Crow

Crow. Last weekend we went to Napa and Sonoma for a film festival. We drove up the state on I-5 and on the way passed through an incredible landscape of dry yellow hills and valleys. With almost no vegetation other than dead grass it was so stark, the shadows on the hills stood out and described their round and simultaneously angular forms. It struck me that the hills up there are like no others that I have ever known. We rolled through this landscape for hours with very little life marring these sun-baked hills set against a cloudless blue sky, except for the occasional crow. Lone crows hovering, perching, swooping over the barren hills. I really like crows. They seem so self-contained and free and joyful in their solitude, and when they band together, into their so poetically named plurality, the “murder” of crows, they are raucous and appear to know no rules, but still are orderly in their unison movements. Crows seem to have a rich inner life and an unconventional but ready understanding of order in the universe. In hardship I imagine that a crow would never feel sorry for itself or act foolishly or give up. It would coolly examine its situation and accept it or figure a way out, or maybe appear to be accepting it while figuring a way out. It seems like it would be hard to get the best of a crow.

I have been trying to channel a little crow this week as we have had some disappointment. We believed that a much anticipated and hard-earned financial reward was coming our way this past week, and at the very last minute it turned out that it very potentially isn’t. I’m sure that I don’t need to tell anyone that matters of finance are a tough point for us and most everyone else these days. Tough times come and they go and this isn’t the end of the world, but it was bitter. It all gave me an opportunity to think about disappointment and examine it in my life. Being disappointed makes you feel stupid. We are in no way at fault in our current personal situation, and we weren’t the only ones who believed, but it still makes me examine myself for the flaw. As if, if we were perfect there would be no problems. Where do we get that idea? I always think critically about how I don’t lead a “safe” life. I do in a physical sense these days, but I don’t make decisions or choose paths for myself based on a secure or safe outcome. I live pretty much from the heart. If I don’t believe in something or feel moved by it, I can’t commit to it. Yes I don’t want to be worried and I do want financial security and a good job and kids and a secure life for them. Believe me I really do. But I guess it turns out that I don’t want those things as much as I want to feel inspired first. When I got tired of being a teacher and an activist I decided that I wanted to be, (even better from a financial standpoint!,) an artist,(sarcasm) and I fell madly in love with and married a writer/moviemaker and entrepreneur,(not exactly secure income there either,) and we have an un-luxurious yet still very expensive and complicated life arranged totally around our loves, passions and dreams. I suspect that this mode of living is somehow an affront to the corporate banking system, since they always seem to be punishing us for not having some “t” crossed or “I” dotted. Making financial decisions based on love, passion, and dreams is maybe not always the most conventional or secure way to go. Suze Orman would probably be disappointed in us if she knew. I wonder though, if I played it a little safer, would I actually hit these bumps in the road less frequently? Or does disappointment hit us all the same? I think of the various ways that it manifests and it does seem pretty universal: a missed opportunity, a failed relationship, a lack of recognition for effort spent, an unexpected outcome, an inability to obtain something sorely desired. I think of crow. Probably crow doesn’t have any expectations, and thus can never be disappointed. That seems smart, but totally unattainable to me with a complicated and wildly creative human brain. Also, I know that not getting what you want can often be a blessing in disguise, but really, how are you supposed to feel that in the moment? You have to grieve for your lost dream. Which sucks. But then, the really hard part that separates the men from the boys, spiritually speaking anyway, you have to keep your heart pried right open and not become bitter and closed in yourself and your life. Tough one. Very tough. What are the alternatives though? Going through life with fear and a hard heart? Not dreaming anymore? What a tragedy. With every new chance taken those sore spots hurt in anticipation of another disappointment. I guess that’s a tough thing about getting older and having more life behind you. As a kid I fell off of a horse once, flat on my back and had the wind knocked out of me. The instructor, bless her, made sure that I didn’t have a spinal injury, picked me up, brushed me off, and made me get back on that horse before going to the nurse. I’m not afraid of riding horses today.

Maybe mute crows alone hold the whys and hows of the universe since they can be at peace with it, no questions, no fear, no disappointments.