February 22, 2004
Winter Birds Transmigration
Thousands of small black migrating birds (with orange beaks; starlings?) invaded our peaceful green pocket of Phoenix this rare rainy morning. For hours they circled and perched and grazed, circled and perched and grazed, occasionally scared into a startle of black scarves heading for nearby bare branches. Here we see some of them resting in the rain in the (almost) bare ruined choir of our neighbor's pecan tree, where still those sweet birds sang. Some of those little clumps of black are leftover pecan clusters, and some are birds. That reminded me of an old anecdote from the Kabbalah, which I can't find right now, so I'll paraphrase:
When Rebbe Abba saw the fruit of a tree turn into a bird, he wept. "If we only realized the depth of the knowledge we have lost, we would rend our garments down to the navel in sadness at that revelation."
These days, though, thanks to incessant observation and science, we know how fruit can turn into a bird, and how a bird can seed a tree, and the many braids between migration and transmigration. As knowledge deepens, the sadness and ignorance recede.
Spring comes early here. The green fuse burns.
[Update June 18, 2004]: For those interested in Kabbalah and its distortions, you might want to read my recent piece Frontier Kabbalah: What Becomes of the Broken-Hearted.
Posted by Jerome at February 22, 2004 06:29 PM | TrackBack