Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Light as a Feather

The morning walk to my office is festooned with the eclectic leftovers of the previous night: homeless men and women still sleeping; booted and ticketed automobiles waiting on owners or tow trucks; bicycled, segwayed and equestrian members of local law enforcement; a muddle of condom wrappers, lost lingerie, and containers that once held assorted spirits. Among these trappings I routinely come across an array of feathers, mostly from the pigeons that boldly walk these downtown streets competing with human hunger for sustenance.

Their charming, morning-grey plumes are castoffs of biological necessity. That the separation from their avian proprietor carries the pain of amputation, lightens the load required for flight or goes completely unnoticed is a mystery to me. But as I bend to add a captivating quill or two to my bookmark collection, I remember those things that I have discarded or abandoned: by accident or necessity; excruciatingly or without a fight; fully aware or otherwise. And I wonder if there are spectators, whether gauche or enthused, stooping to retrieve whatever I may have left behind.

I have relinquished unsubstantiated judgment and abject suspicion for the serenity of “it is what it is”. This keeps me out of nests of anxiety constructed by impractical acts that are based on raw emotion.

I am working to relegate emotion to her proper place in my psyche, particularly as it relates to matters involving the opposite sex. I am no longer easily riled or surprised by the relationship components of human interaction.

I am resigned to the inconsequence of the opinions of others. It has been said that “what people think of you is none of your business”; there is peace in this assertion.

I understand that Love is my choice; and a reflection of what I think of myself. I will love in the language required and reciprocity is non-negotiable: I insist on being loved in the manner I require.

I know that I own my self-esteem and self-preservation. No one can or should be responsible for my happiness; it is my sole responsibility. I must be selfish enough to fashion my own contentment and pleasure.

I have learned to reject and return compartmentalization. I do not answer to or live in the expectations of traditional or stereotypical assignment. If anyone attempts to label me, I am swift to peel and remove the layers of false identification, placing them squarely back into the hands or at the feet of the accuser.

I am joyful! Joy…Full! Whether enjoying the calm before a storm, or dancing around the winds of temporary adversity, I choose to remember and celebrate the things for which I am truly grateful; people and possessions too numerous and personal to record at the present.

As you move in cooperation with the creator and this great universe, welcome the manifest shedding of your “plumage” and rejoice in the fruition of renewed productivity and prosperity, and improved mental and spiritual well-being.