Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. |
It's a name applied to black birds of all sorts, from the smaller ones of single-word name to the large grackles like these. It reflects our own propensity for identifying things with greater accuracy and inclusion than the colonial languages superimposed on us: Our names revolve around what creatures do, whereas the others focus strictly on [some] appearances. After all, a female blackbird is not black at all, but brown and gray (as are the female grackles, including the great-tailed grackles that visited today). So I ask: Whose is the more accurate name?
A male showed up yesterday for a brief moment. This morning, he was back, singing from atop the aspen for an extended period. I was consumed with completing horse-related tasks before the rain hit again (and didn't manage it, several times over), so I didn't take time for a photo. He returned to the same spot this afternoon, though, and sang and sang until I relented and came outside to take his photo.
Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. |
Photo copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. |
They do not, to my knowledge, have any particular symbolic significance here — beyond, of course, serving as seasonal heralds and standard-bearers of an avian sense of community. But tomorrow is a day I have set as one in which I will deliberately let go of one particular set of burdensome tasks. There is significance to the date, but only for myself. It will not by any means release me from the dynamics which have swamped me, heart and soul, for the last month; that will continue for a long time, and I will continue to work it out in my own way. That means that I will continue to do as I see fit to deal and heal; this is not something anyone else gets an opinion on, because no one else wears my moccasins.
While I'm now unburdening myself of this one set of tasks, I've been mentally doing likewise with other dynamics in my life. There are places and spaces where people are unlikely to find me now, and that is fine. Changes are looming here; we have much to do in the coming weeks and months, and there is nothing — not a single thing — that does, can, should, or will take precedence over Wings, myself, and what we are and do here.
Asiginaak sings, and we listen.
We're simply living.
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
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