Was it something I said !?!?

Today I was washing my hands in the Farmer's Market bathroom. The water was warm and that felt nice. I got some soap from the dispenser and then stuck my hands back under the warm running water. I rinsed slowly, pausing on purpose to savor the warmth. I was sorta in a mood to relax into things, in general. I'd been a little bummed out in the previous store, feeling at odds with the world. I was conciously trying to lose that negativity. And it just felt good, the warmth. (I do btw always appreciate their bathroom. It's usually clean and the hand dryers are powerful. They actually dry your hands, quickly, unlike so many public restrooms where you end up wiping your hands on your pants as you exit. grr )

Anyway, as I was rinsing my hands, Suddenly, briefly, an image of a fight/struggle with my mother flashed through my mind. Actually it wasn't exactly an image, as in a picture, but rather the remembrance of being in the bathroom infront of the sink and the fact that she was trying to literally wash my mouth out with soap. I recall we struggled. I do not remember whether she was successful at all. I've no memory of the taste of soap, so maybe I wriggled away. However, I clearly recall my astonishment and the absurdity of it all, the idea that she really meant it, meant to do it, it wasn't just a figure of speech for her.

No idea why this popped up when it did. It was quick, sudden. It's not a major memory. I mean, if you were to use the expression, "I should wash your mouth out with soap!" in my presence, I very well might laugh and say, "Hey, my mother actually tried to do that once!" But I swear it's not one of the memories that I think about. I have plenty of stories of mom and occassionally one of them will come to mind for some reason or another but this is just not one of them.

Weird. I have no idea how old I was or what it was that I said to prompt this action from her.

Well I say I have no idea why it came to mind, but then again, on the surface it does kinda make some sense. I have been thinking alot about the act of speaking lately; and, how I self-censor alot; and, how the majority of what I hold in, ends up hurting me, disrespecting me. (And I've been meaning to write about all that but haven't taken/made the time.) I say it is wierd because I really do NOT think that this particular struggle with my mom was spectacularly traumatic or influenced/marked me all that much. But who knows. Actually she was verbally and emotionally abusive much of the time, perhaps the fact that in this instance, she was being physical, was significant and memorable. Again, who knows \(@.o)/

Oh well, I just found it interesting and weird, the fact that it came to mind, and the way in which the memory flashed by out of nowhere.

I wonder what the heck it was that I said, that ticked her off so much? I must have been pretty young if she actually thought she could physically do that to me! What could a little kid say that would be so bad? Good grief, do/did other parents actually do that? - stick a bar of soap into a kid's mouth? I mean, it is just an expression, right?

we fledglings

There is a bathroom in our home that's on ground level. The window by the toilet looks straight out to the busy street. Even though there are bushes in front of the window providing privacy, the blinds stay shut all of the time. I was in there this morning and heard a fluttering noise. Sounded like maybe, a bird on the window sill? I quietly peeked out thru the slats. All I could see at first was a pile of leaves on the left. Then I noticed that the left corner of the screen had been lifted up and also a small round hole had been torn out at that lower corner edge. (This particular screen is old and made of fiberglass mesh, not aluminum wire. I've replaced many of them all around the house over the years, specifically because. it doesn't take much pressure to rip the old fiberglass screening.) I realized that I was looking at a bird nest. The parents must have exploited a flaw in the screen there, and built their nest in that space between the glass and screen. I can see how they would have been attracted to the protected location.

As the morning went on, I kept peeking out every now and then. Once I saw a parent bird, a Wren, perch on the screen's frame and shove it's head down into the nest. I assumed there was a baby hidden inside. Another time I saw a beak reaching up.

Later I heard some fluttering and went to look. The baby was out of the nest, hopping back and forth, side to side. The only part of the screen that was detached from its frame was the bottom corner, just by to the nest. And so, the baby was "screened in", caged, looking out on the world, occassionally flapping its wings and lifting off a bit, but unable to leave the enclosed window sill. I watched for a long time. The baby was almost the same size as the parent bird. Wrens are not big birds. I noticed a cracked egg shell on the right side of the sill. It was amazingly small; a large english pea or a small garbanzo. I wondered how old it was, how long had this bird been living in secret on my window sill.? Watching the baby bounce around in there, I wondered if it might crush the small egg shell from whence it had hatched. I wanted to retrieve it because I have a few found egg shells on a book shelf in the living room.

The baby had an occassional tiny downy fluff feather poking out randomly on its body; and also, a couple small bare spots on its cheeks where an adult Wren's characteristic stripe resides. Baby had a sort of "bad hair day" look. From its size and its flapping and its hopping, I surmised that it was more than ready to throw itself out into the world and fly away. If only it weren't for that darn screen!

The parent bird came back many times in the several hours that I monitored the window sill. It sat in the bushes just outside the screen. It sat there right in front of Baby, with a fat spider in its beak. It turned in circles on a branch, teasing and tempting Baby, trying to entice it to come on out. Baby wanted to go but couldn't figure out just how. It kept looking up and out, and hopping from the nest to the far side of the window sill and back again. A couple times the parent hopped from the bush to the window ledge corner and looked up through the hole in the screen. Even though the baby opened its beak and leaned in that direction, I never saw the parent feed the baby during this time. It simply poked its head in, then backed out and sat on a branch in the bush.

One time, the baby flapped so hard that it dislodged the entire bottom edge of the screen loose from the frame. Several times it flew up and clasped onto the screen with its feet and the whole fabric swayed in and out. Although the bottom edge was completely open, offering flight and freedom, it seems Baby's instincts are to go up and out. And so it remained inbetween the screen and the glass, oblivious to the yawning gap below.

I checked again a few minutes ago. The parent is sitting down in the middle of the outer brick ledge, just below the open screen. I think, it's trying to give Baby the idea to go down there, but the message still doesn't seem to be getting through.

I'm not worried though.
There's always a temptation, in these sorts of situations, to interfere, to reach out and give the screen a bit of a push at just the right moment, to "help", to make it easier for the fledgling-wanna-be. But I don't think that'd be right. I'm sure that eventually nature's call will sing loud and persistent enough; and Baby will make its way.

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I love music and song. As a teenager at summer camp, my nickname was mimi-bird because I sang all the time. Camp was one of those rare and special places in my life where I truly felt comfortable and free and loved and appreciated. Often I turn to music for comfort and for emotional interpretations. I believe that my unconscious mind uses songs, to send me messages, and to hints at things, that sometimes I'm not seeing clearly; not unlike the way it sends us crazy dreams in the midst of turmoil. Often I'm too busy or don't look close enough to get the meaning; othertimes, it's all too obvious.

A couple Melissa Etheridge songs have been in high rotation on my stereo lately, Ruins and Testify. And so I guess it's not really surprising that my brain did it's "thing" and popped these words "rip through the wire that screens in my window" into my head, as I stood there watching the baby bird. The words were familiar, the title and other lyrics were just on the tip of my tongue, but still out of reach... I hummed along, trying to get a grasp on what song it was, uncertain if there was any real significance or just a coincidence. Eventually I realized that these were the closing lines from Testify. I think they fit perfectly.

Rip through the wire that screens in my window
Throw open the shade that covers my mind
I'm going to touch, I've got to believe
The bell tolls for me

I love it when that happens! When the message just shoots through, overshadowing all the uncertainty and trouble and pain and confusion. When you absolutely can't ignore the connection.

I think I can keep moving now.

You see, I'd been feeling a bit at odds lately. The birds this morning reminded me of my deep trust in the nature, and also of the sacredness of each individual's life journey. The changes currently ongoing within and without me are difficult; and, are compounded by past choices, like the one I made decades ago, to build my nest in a protected spot. Now, I, like the parent birds am learning that what I once thought was protected and safe, contains barriers to flight. I think I need to trust in my own internal drive, in instinct, inevitable and natural. In my heart I know that is the way. I guess sometimes it just takes a little more time and effort than we expect. However, I have no doubt, life will tease and taunt us and propel us onward, and, we fledglings, will make our way just fine.

Hello?

hmmm just checking