This morning I watched a bird fly right into a glass shut window.

As it soared through the air, on trusted wings, it smoothly sailed right into a strong and sudden THUD that sent it flat down on its’ back on the cement below.

The hit was so hard, it shook me suddenly with a full chill down my spine.

Watching the bird lay there on the ground, from inside my own perch of safety, I was swept with so many feelings and thoughts.

Should I rush outside to help?

Should I see if it is ok?

Should I do nothing?

Should I expect the worst?

Am I thinking too much?

Would birds like flowers at their funeral?

I also felt such deep sadness and pity. What a cruel thing for life to throw at this bird.

Its’ own self is to blame for the demise of a beautiful life in flight.

How sad to trust ones’ body, a part that comes from birth to soar you through life.

And yet, a piece of ones’ own death.

Could you imagine the feeling of having wings, something humans wonder about and cannot out into sense or words.

To be able to glide through air so gently or strongly, at the thrust or ease of your own strength?

Imagine that kind of power on your shoulders?

To be failed by your own body, and even your own mind…

Did that bird have an inkling of what would happen should it fly into the glass?

Does it even know what kind of danger comes with confidently flying in an unknown direction?

Or was I seeing it all wrong…

Maybe the bird was out flying a predator.

Or an unwanted mate.

Maybe the bird saw freedom.

And just hoped for the best.

Sometimes freedom looks like a clear, open, and safe space.

Sometimes, it does not matter if the new place does not look great so long as it is “safer.”

And the danger one faces in making such a quick decision to jump from one perch to another without assessing the next step is the one decision that can define if we live or we die.

Assessment.

Assessment and a pragmatic approach.

Not only relying on intuition.

Not only relying on the wings that have carried you as far as you are now.

Because even a bird that is born knowing how to fly can make a simple error or calculation that costs itself a life.

Its’ own.

I was full of thoughts and yet speechless for minutes.

In sitting there contemplating why this bird did what it did, I lost track of time.

I was so desperate all of a sudden to understand why. And how. And what could have prevented it…

I wanted to know HOW to trust in ones’ self and HOW natural instincts could STILL lead to failure.

Because that goes against everything we are taught.

Because sometimes death makes no sense at all.

And then I went from lightheaded and nauseated over this situation, to utterly sick to my stomach.

I should get up.

I should be doing something to help.

Maybe it was still moving.

Maybe THIS TIME it only got knocked out for a little bit.

But there were no scars to tell a tale, no bruises to give visible shame to the stupid decisions it made.

Maybe this bird had done this before and KNEW how to catch itself’.

YES.

Maybe the bird was in fact OKAY.

And I misjudged.

It is not like I am well versed in bird reflexes.

Sure a cat could have made it, but a bird… maybe I underestimated the strength of a creature that is born to not only soar but sometimes fall. Fail.

So I stood up from my chair and I peeked at the cement.

WHAT THE F**K.

It was gone.

Gone.

Seriously, how long did I sit there wondering…

Wondering if this fucking bird was okay.

Worried it was hurt. Or worse, dead.

But wait…

What if a cat got it?

What if while I sat here wondering what the fuck to do and I contemplated the biological engineering of bird wing mechanics and mindfulness, I did not foresee the WORSE danger approaching.

Fuck.

Or maybe…maybe I should sit.

Maybe it flew away.

Maybe it is fine.

And maybe it is off soaring once more, on trusted wings and hard-earned wind.

Maybe it is gliding into the sunset.

What a beautiful thought.