The Parrot, Our Bridge to Divinity–a reflective essay by Debbie Goodrich

The Parrot, Our Bridge to Divinity–a reflective essay
by Debbie Goodrich
August 14, 2011

Two birds, trapped in a world not their own, look out a window of opportunity.

This picture represents how I see the world today. How the health of our entire world is today. Parrots are the bridge that we can walk on between the worlds of human habitation and the world of the divine–created outside of our influence. When we bring a parrot into our world, we bring divinity to our doorstep. An ancient creature, millions of generations old. Ourselves, mere babies by contrast. A creature who extends their wings and flies, our dream. A creature of enormous beauty that ages gracefully. What we would not give to have such youthfulness as we age, to be able to fly, to feel the ideology of freedom. Yet, none of us are free. Certainly not them. It begins with survival or death in the wild–competitive and forceful. It ends with us creating their wold for them, a mere shadow of what it was. We have drained their color from them. Removed the very beauty we seek to obtain. Denied the very divinity we seek at our end. They seek freedom in the window but their world is blurred by our selfishness, greed, disrespect and fear.

This picture is two blue and golds staring into the sunshine of fresh air, greenness and a window blocks their escape. Imagine being trapped inside a nightmare where your wings will not save you, your social skills will not save you, no one will save you and it goes on for days, for weeks. Each day, staring out at the possibility of salvation, but none coming. Eventually, turning on yourself, driven mad by the inability to escape the endless reality of someone who completely forgot about you. Someone who could not even provide water to you. Starving, dehydrated, dirty, your heart keeps pumping–wouldn’t you want it to end? The human condition, our world. The condition of neglect, despair, greed and selfishness. Not the open, fresh, world of the rainforest where food was plenty, competition was low and water was clean to drink so long ago, before our time. We have not learned how to do this and our world is polluted–water is tainted, food is tainted, we are tainted.

This is the state of our world. Where we take and take and take to such a point, there is nothing left out there. A polluted world, squandered, used up. A delicate balance of survival usurped by our continuous, burgeoning human population with no sign of control of numbers in sight. No sign of control in demand. No sign of control in reducing how much pressure we put on the planet. No sign of control in ourselves.

Two birds, glorious turquoise and golden with green. Sentient beings with thoughts, memories and intelligence. Reduced to malformed feathers, skin and bone glaringly obvious. Staring in some vain hope that the green they see outside will be theirs again. To eat clean food, to breathe fresh air, to drink fresh water, to escape the nightmare of black mold, no water and death lurking ever closer.

This is what we do to the bridge to our own divinity–the bridge to the world we know now to the world no science has answers to as yet. Instead of building it, we are destroying it in every way we can. We destroy what they have done for millions of years in millions of seconds. We are destroying the possibility of discovering who we are through them. We leave them to people who would rather forget their significance to the world, boasting instead of their own. Millions of years old iconic species representing all that is wild, right there at our doorstep. They are so radically different and have so much to teach us and we learn so little from them.

No one seems to fully understand what we are losing when we see a picture like this. It’s not just sick birds in a sick home. It’s a sick planet with sickness in it’s very foundation. This picture shows our gross misunderstanding of our purpose on this world. This picture shows a gift we are given that is thrown away. Our “trash” that continues to want to live, to teach us that we can be better people. “Take us,” they say in the window, “and let us teach you how to live the right way. Let us show you the beauty we see in ourselves and that beauty that can be brought out in you. Open the window….” their shouts become a whisper…”You’ve shut us out completely. You’ve closed the bridge, you’ve lost your focus, your life is so small, you won’t even remember it. Remember us, remember the possibilities. Don’t forget us, please help us…”

Instead, the window is closed and they look out wondering when it will just end. Their bridge is open, we have burned ours. We’d rather look the other way, ignore our responsibility to ourselves, to our neighbor, to the entire world. They look out the window, hoping for the salvation we think is only ours to have. How can we be so wrong? Through them is who we are and what we do. We should look to them for guidance vs. us being their guardian. Instead of mutual understanding of each other as fellow beings, we have disrespect, greed, and fear. How can we receive salvation when those qualities are the preponderance of our race?

I have always strove to love everyone. Each year, my love is tested. My husband says, “How can you love everyone–you would not be left with enough love for me….” I say, “How can you not love everyone first and then step back and wonder why?” I feel so futile going against the largest wave and monstrosity that our race has become. So little love is shared and so much fear has replaced it. When was the last time you talked to your neighbor? How many neighbors do you really know? How many countries have you seen? How many differences have you found to actually be the same?

If you love something, you respect it, understand it and put forth effort to protect it. Shouldn’t we love everyone this way? The birds looking out this window are asking us this. Shouldn’t we love everyone, no matter what they look like? To show someone the path of freedom, of flight within our soul. Not to block it by a tainted window. A window which should be opened. What we see is a facade. What we become is up to you.

Two birds, trapped in a world not their own, look out a window of opportunity.


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