Bitter Ironies & Acts Of Greatness
Tonight, Tracie and I had to drop off my prescriptions at the Walgreens near our apartment. I spent the better half of the day going from one doctor's office to another; I'm tired, still a little shaken but no longer stirred. Since we had a few minutes to kill, we decided to just drive around in silence and listen to her "Wicked" soundtrack. I am easily touched by things - music, imagery, words. A couple of the songs on that soundtrack really struck a chord in my heart.
I'm an emotional person. Things touch me in ways that are truly deep and profound. I seem to find beauty anywhere, in anything and in anybody. Sunsets, sunrises, clouds, stars, trees, small animals and children. The stark asymmetry of a city skyline. The majesty of the ocean. The silent grace of a pine forest. To me, they are all indicators of something greater. For that reason, they are wonderful. Perhaps I should be more logical and rational. It would certainly keep me from hurting myself as much as I seem to do. But I feel that I was made this way for a reason. I'm a sensitive guy.
After we returned to Walgreens, we had a few minutes before we had to pick up my meds, so I decided that we should take a walk to the bridge. This was the very bridge that last week I was considering throwing myself off as a result of the wrong medications and too much stress. Now was my chance to walk across it victoriously. I had beaten those inner demons.
As we stood at the point where I had considered jumping, I looked to the southern shore of Goodby's Lake and saw an anhinga on a fallen log. For the unfamiliar, the anhinga, or snake bird, is a cormorant-like bird that is perhaps better at swimming than it is at flying. It appeared to have a fish in its beak, and would shake it from side to side.
It seemed odd that the bird simply wasn't throwing its head back and swallowing this small fish. That's when I realized it wasn't a fish at all. It had a piece of plastic stuck on its beak, holding it closed.
The water's edge along the tributaries of the St. John's are not the safest in the world to try to walk along. But being me, I went off on a knight's errand and was soon standing on those muddy banks, ten feet from the bird. It was surprisingly calm. The plastic looked like maybe a fishing lure, but translucent. As I tried to get closer, my feet soon began to sink; the mud in this area can get waist deep. I backed up and realized that there was no easy solution here.
A couple nearby saw me and what I was trying to do as Trae stood on the bridge, watching and hoping to be able to flag down a police officer. Ed and Debbie come to the newly built boat ramp to enjoy the view of Goodby's Lake. As they saw me and my attempts to rescue this bird, they decided to help as best they could. Ed went to a nearby marina and sports club while Debbie hunted around for a net. I stayed to keep an eye on the bird. The folks that Ed spoke with were too drunk to really care. Debbie found a sheet and a netted bag. Not much, but a start.
It was now 8:20 PM, and with clouds filling most of the sky, it was growing darker by the minute. Ed came around to the section of muddy shore where I stood. We tried to come up with some sort of solution, but hope seemed to be dimming with the sunset. That's when two young men with a jet-ski showed up. I never did get their names, but we called to them and explained what we were trying to do. Without even hesitating, one of them jumped straight into the murky water and deep mud and began to close in on the anhinga.
The bird seemed pretty weak, but as the young man reached out to grab it, the anhinga dove into the water. As I said, this is a bird that is more at home in the water than in the sky. For the next twenty minutes, all of us, the boy in the water, the one on the jet-ski, Ed, Debbie, Trae and I tried, in vain, to herd the anhinga towards the boat ramp. In the end, though, it out maneuvered all of us. It is a swimming bird, after all.
By this point, it was past 9 PM. The sky was too dark, and so was the anhinga. We left feeling a little down. The anhinga's prospects are very dim; without being able to free itself from this human-made trap, it will starve. That sad point was at least balanced by the fact that six humans came together for a half hour to try and save it. In that simple act, grace was upon each of us.
Last week, I wanted to end my life from that bridge. My life was spared. Sadly, a little life that didn't ask for this punishment may be lost near that same bridge. More importantly, though, a small group of good hearted people gave the best they could to spare that little life, acting in greatness and true kindness towards another traveller upon this Earth.
I'm an emotional person. Things touch me in ways that are truly deep and profound. I seem to find beauty anywhere, in anything and in anybody. Sunsets, sunrises, clouds, stars, trees, small animals and children. The stark asymmetry of a city skyline. The majesty of the ocean. The silent grace of a pine forest. To me, they are all indicators of something greater. For that reason, they are wonderful. Perhaps I should be more logical and rational. It would certainly keep me from hurting myself as much as I seem to do. But I feel that I was made this way for a reason. I'm a sensitive guy.
After we returned to Walgreens, we had a few minutes before we had to pick up my meds, so I decided that we should take a walk to the bridge. This was the very bridge that last week I was considering throwing myself off as a result of the wrong medications and too much stress. Now was my chance to walk across it victoriously. I had beaten those inner demons.
As we stood at the point where I had considered jumping, I looked to the southern shore of Goodby's Lake and saw an anhinga on a fallen log. For the unfamiliar, the anhinga, or snake bird, is a cormorant-like bird that is perhaps better at swimming than it is at flying. It appeared to have a fish in its beak, and would shake it from side to side.
It seemed odd that the bird simply wasn't throwing its head back and swallowing this small fish. That's when I realized it wasn't a fish at all. It had a piece of plastic stuck on its beak, holding it closed.
The water's edge along the tributaries of the St. John's are not the safest in the world to try to walk along. But being me, I went off on a knight's errand and was soon standing on those muddy banks, ten feet from the bird. It was surprisingly calm. The plastic looked like maybe a fishing lure, but translucent. As I tried to get closer, my feet soon began to sink; the mud in this area can get waist deep. I backed up and realized that there was no easy solution here.
A couple nearby saw me and what I was trying to do as Trae stood on the bridge, watching and hoping to be able to flag down a police officer. Ed and Debbie come to the newly built boat ramp to enjoy the view of Goodby's Lake. As they saw me and my attempts to rescue this bird, they decided to help as best they could. Ed went to a nearby marina and sports club while Debbie hunted around for a net. I stayed to keep an eye on the bird. The folks that Ed spoke with were too drunk to really care. Debbie found a sheet and a netted bag. Not much, but a start.
It was now 8:20 PM, and with clouds filling most of the sky, it was growing darker by the minute. Ed came around to the section of muddy shore where I stood. We tried to come up with some sort of solution, but hope seemed to be dimming with the sunset. That's when two young men with a jet-ski showed up. I never did get their names, but we called to them and explained what we were trying to do. Without even hesitating, one of them jumped straight into the murky water and deep mud and began to close in on the anhinga.
The bird seemed pretty weak, but as the young man reached out to grab it, the anhinga dove into the water. As I said, this is a bird that is more at home in the water than in the sky. For the next twenty minutes, all of us, the boy in the water, the one on the jet-ski, Ed, Debbie, Trae and I tried, in vain, to herd the anhinga towards the boat ramp. In the end, though, it out maneuvered all of us. It is a swimming bird, after all.
By this point, it was past 9 PM. The sky was too dark, and so was the anhinga. We left feeling a little down. The anhinga's prospects are very dim; without being able to free itself from this human-made trap, it will starve. That sad point was at least balanced by the fact that six humans came together for a half hour to try and save it. In that simple act, grace was upon each of us.
Last week, I wanted to end my life from that bridge. My life was spared. Sadly, a little life that didn't ask for this punishment may be lost near that same bridge. More importantly, though, a small group of good hearted people gave the best they could to spare that little life, acting in greatness and true kindness towards another traveller upon this Earth.
posted by Robert at 7:04 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home