Bird’s song

I wake up wondering why I woke up. I wake up clasping the edges of a rapidly dissipating dream. I wake up wondering, ‘Wait, am I supposed to be worried,’ as a flash of unfounded fear permeates my body. Morning.

Tweet, says a little bird. Tweet, he joyously announces the birth of a new day despite the fact that we are still deeply buried in night’s darkness. How do you know, dear bird ? How can you be so bold ? Then there is a chirp, a cheep, a twitter, a tweet. The dawn chorus cracks night open to let in the day’s light. Do birds ever awake in fear and doubt ? Do they ever worry that morning won’t come about ?

Being so cerebral, we humans actually have to wake up twice. First the sleeping body is blasted with a blaring alarm. Like receiving an electrical jolt, it jumps or stumbles, unthinkingly, out of bed. Body, now awake, mechanically puts on slippers and goes dutifully down to breakfast. But mind is still dreaming upstairs in head. ‘Why did I say that,’ the dreamer wonders once again.

Body has changed from pyjamas to coat and tie. On his way to the office, under the rain, he impressively handles his umbrella while dodging the dangerous eye poking ones held by others. Of course his agility gets no recognition from headquarters. Mind is busy fending off dangers in a world of his own making. ‘Why did I say that ? She probably hates me now.’

So begins another day for body without his head. Be careful, bodies on autopilot are all about. The problem is that they look and act as if they are fully awake. In fact, they even talk. (And that, to answer your question, is probably why you said what you did.)

Birds wake knowing morning is near. Their faith comes first, long before the sunrise. This morning my body woke up but my head stayed in his world of worry. I sat on the edge of my bed. Darkness inside and out. Then, tweet. An invisible bird pecks at my barricaded brain.

Body is amazing, no doubt about that. But head has quite a lot on his mind too. He is the guardian, judge and jury of his life experiences, past and future.

And somewhere between physical body and mental thoughts lie the seeds of something much bigger than both, being.

It isn’t the bird’s song that shakes the mind out of its stupor. It is the meaning behind the melody. ‘I’m here,’ bird tweets. ‘I’m alive!  And that is something to sing about !’

My body sits on the edge of the bed waiting for captain to come out. A bird chirps at the iron gates. His song reminds me of something I used to know. Then there is a twitter, a tweet, a chirp, a cheep. The dawn chorus cracks my sleeping mind open to let in day’s light.

I wake up once, wake up twice. I hear a coo cooing outside. Or is it inside ? All I know is I am here. And I’m alive!

Head and body go into the morning together humming… happily.

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