This is an excerpt from my book, “I Woke Up in Paradise.”
It is Friday morning. I am sitting in front of my 10,000 lux lamp because if I don’t do this most mornings in the winter I start to get depressed and find it hard to wake up in the morning. They call this type of mild depression the “February Blues” because so many people get depressed from a lack of sunshine. In February, the summer is still a long way away.
We had a light snow yesterday and some of it is still on the ground. It reminds me that I have not shut the water off to the outside faucets and I’m hoping that they have not frozen and cracked.
During my time at this particular house,[the house I lived in with Bob] there were two black birds that liked to sit outside of the master bedroom window. I do not know for sure if they were crows or ravens, but I do know that they were large and black and there was always a pair of them.
I have learned over the years that the universe is always trying to speak to you, but you must be willing to listen. The messages come in the form of experiences, observations and synchronicities, but the important part is that you must be paying attention. Black birds often figure prominently in these types of messages for me. They have brought so many insights.
These two would sit together just outside of the window on the edge of part of our roof and they could be seen clearly from inside of the house. It was actually a pleasant feeling to have the two of them visible when I walked into our bedroom. It was like having pleasant neighbours that you saw but never had to engage in small talk.
It always felt like a good sign to see them there. A pleasant reminder of the fact that there is good in the world. This obviously content couple were inseparable and would sit together and fly around our court together.
On my way to work, I would drive out of the court and turn left on a larger road that took me toward the city. One day as I turned left, I saw that a large black bird had been hit by a car. These birds are natural scavengers so it may have been feasting on road kill when the car hit it. The other bird from the pair was standing on the boulevard a few feet away from the dead bird.
When I came home for lunch the hopeful partner was still standing beside the road waiting for the other bird to get up. The bird was still there after work. Every time that I drove by this place for the next few days, the big black bird was standing at the side of the road waiting for its partner to get up. Gradually, the dead bird became less and less of a bird and more and more of a smear.
After a few days, the bird was no longer there. The pair that used to sit outside of my window, never returned. I did see that another couple had started to include this newly single bird in their group and I would see this group of three sometimes in our neighbourhood, but the new group was never invited to sit on the eave outside my window.
This whole event shook me. True love and attachment was not something that has been cooked up by Hollywood, or mandated as a way of enforcing breeding rights on people. This was a fundamental part of our world. There were other animals that formed true, binding attachments to one another.
A reflection on the arrangement that I was in, stood in stark contrast. He would never stand on the side of the road for days waiting for me to get up. He would not even notice that I was not behind him if he left. It was a gentle reminder that that was not the kind of relationship that I was in. It was time to leave.