the spirit of the hawk

i recommend early morning walks with headphones on when experiencing writer's block. it seems to be inspirational. i was walking home from work this morning at half past seven when i found myself swirling away in a quick succession of thoughts, which i hope to be able to trace back, now that i am finally seated in front of the computer. i wanted to post this blog before catching up on my sleep (and boy, do i have some catchin up to do!)

so here was i walking home, unusually early for me, headphones on. and then rednex' spirit of the hawk comes on. that song has something uplifting about it. and the (perhaps not so) strange connection my tired neurons make, in an attempt to provide imagery to sounds, i presume, is to pink floyd's take it back video. (i think it was take it back, might be learning to fly... i only saw the vid once, so correct me if i'm wrong. one of the things i have on my to do list is to catch up with the floyd discography, but that is another story).

the image and the sounds overlapped perfectly as the song went on and on... "high on a hillside, heaven above; drifting to high and low we fly away, me and my hero, me and my love"... and then came the sad part, the voice of the indian. "i am tired. my heart is sick and sad. i will fight no more." and i so feel it. i don't feel indian, i don't feel old, i don't feel wise. but i feel i have been at war for too long, and a futile war it is. however, how can i not fight? how can i stop trying to open people's eyes even when the light makes them blink? how can i stop trying to describe rainbows to blind troglodytes? how can i prove the existence of all that is good and kind, and joyous and worth living and living for to all those who prefer their dark, damp, cold and stony caves, to hide and cower in their corners, because they are afraid that sunlight will make them blink, rub their eyes and look at their lives in light? how... when i myself have a very comfortable cave indeed?

and yet... i do have my phial of light with me. i take it out in the darkest dark when i am afraid. and i look around and assure myself that the world is still there, and i am still in it and that i am ok, and that i can go out and look at rainbows. and sometimes i do. and while i may be miserable for days on end... those precious moments when i lay my head down and close my eyes and drift away in my mind... when i create my happiness for me... however short, those moments are worth dragging to a day, however miserable. and more often than not, they are less miserable than they seen, unless i myself insist on making them so.

and here was i some posts ago complaining i am no hawk. no, i am not. i will not jump off a cliff with a firm belief that i will sprout wings. but there is something of the spirit of the hawk in me. even if it shows for just a couple of minutes at the end of a tiring day. and if a part of me can fly for a while, then the rest of me may one day follow.