Black Raven Rising

I’ve had a reoccurring dream since I was in my 20’s.

I was at my college’s indoor track, in the company of a random variety of people from my past. There seemed to be no real pattern to the types of people I saw there. Anyway, I found myself running around the track.  As I was jogging, I was observing.  I noticed the different groups that people were walking in.  I noticed who was training intensely and who was just out for some light exercise and conversation.  I noticed who was struggling to keep going and who seemed determined to push on.

While I was taking all of this in, I began to notice my own breath.  My own speed.  My own footfalls, one after another.  Like a heartbeat.  I became aware of the drive inside of me to go faster.  I wanted to go faster.  I wanted to be stronger.  I felt I was on the cusp of something incredible.  I wanted it to feel effortless but I was glad for the burning in my tired muscles.  I began to notice that the faster I would run, the more my speed would lift me off the ground.  I pushed harder.  I gained speed and I lifted off the ground.  The faster I could run, the easier it was to stretch my arms out and lift off into flight until I was actually flying around the track, looking down at everyone as if I didn’t even exist.  I had learned how to fly and yet to my dismay, nobody noticed.  I began to call out at the people from above.. “Hey! Check it out! I can fly!”

I landed and tried to tell people what I had discovered.  Some people were uninterested.  Some seemed willing to learn.  It seemed that I could talk and explain and demonstrate but for the most part I was frustrated that I couldn’t seem to teach anyone how to fly, or even to want to for that matter.  I felt defeated and confused.

Who wouldn’t want to fly?

“Goodbye, Little Yellow Bird” from The Portrait of Dorian Grey

The snow was very plentiful,
and crumbs were very few,
when a weather beaten sparrow through,
a mansion window flew,
Her eye fell on a golden cage,
a sweet love song she heard,
sung by a pet canary there,
a handsome yellow bird,
he said to her: miss sparrow,
I’ve been struck by cupids arrow,
would you share my cage with me,
She looked up his castle,
with its ribbon and its tassel,
and in a plaintive tones said she:
goodbye little yellow bird,
I’d rather brave the cold
on a leafless tree,
than a prisoner be,
in a cage of gold.
The spoiled and petted yellow bird,
could scarcely believe it true,
that a common sparrow should refuse,
a bird with blood so blue,
he told her the advantages,
of riches and of gold,
she answered that her liberties,
for gold could not be sold.
She said I must be going,
but he cried no no its snowing,
and the wintry windstorm blows,
stay with me my little deary,
for without you ‘twould be dreary,
but she only sighed ah no.
Goodbye little yellow bird,
I’d gladly mate with you,
I love you little yellow bird,
but I love my freedom too,
so goodbye little yellow bird,
I’d rather brave the cold,
on a leafless tree,
than a prisoner be,
in a cage of gold.

Some birds find comfort and security in their own cages. 

Black Raven was meant to fly.

Won’t you join me?

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