parable of the trapped bird

(source)

One sunny morning, a little bird made its way inside the house and hovered over the four corners until it got into my room. Why it was lured to fly inside the house I only have the slightest perception. Was it lost in finding its nest? Did it find itself trapped behind walls while trying to track the sweet whiff of the blooms in my neighbor’s garden? 

I tried to catch the poor bird and toss it outside but it cannot seem to stop flying around. It would rest for a while but would flap again towards the tiny canopy on the other side of the ceiling. I tried to lead the bird to the open door where it got through but it would not follow the clues. I was unsure if it was figuring its own way out of this enclosure to be back to the open space or if it actually reveled in the different surrounds of walls and furniture that is entirely unlike the trees. Was the little bird tired of the trees where every other bird was and wanted to look at a different view? Or was it only finding solace, perhaps a new spot to build its nest?

I let the little creature fly until it will tire with its flight and will allow itself to be led outside. It finally rested on the pane where the air con used to sit but is now covered with aluminum screen. By the time I was able to grab a chair where I could stand to reach the pane, the tiny bird again flew, taking wing around the corners of the room.

Why it refused my hand when I could have been its one chance to freedom I could only begin to show concern. Its ticket to the open space and the trees was upon me. Was it afraid that I will not lead it to the blooms in my neighbor’s garden? Was that tweet its scream of "leave me alone!" and that I just let this tiny being’s flight be on its own free course?  

I opened the door wide and the windows to allow it many gates to get out of these confines. Little bird, the garden and the blooms are outside, and this sure is not the best place to build your nest and raise your young. The trees are waiting for you outside. Can’t you hear the chirp of the other birds?  They are calling out for you.

The little bird did not notice the bright rays of the sun coming through the open windows as it hooked its claws on one dark corner of the ceiling, the flapping of its wings becoming slow and weary.

I took a hammer and pulled out the screen covering the air con slot. The little bird, few ounces of strength left, flew few little flaps and rested on the pane. In a while, it finally flew outside, landing on the branch of the mango tree where its tweets chorused with the rest of the birds and the humming of the morning breeze. The faint sweet smell of the camias on my neighbor's backyard wafted all the way up.

I took out a few nails and hammered the screen cover back. 

parable of two fishes

A buddy toured me to his backyard pond where he grows freshwater breeds, but mostly tilapias. When he threw some palay bran into the pond, a number of tilapias the size of my palm surfaced, their mouths grasping the dusty fibers of food. After, they swiftly plunged back into the murky abyss. They did this in repetition until the pond's surface was clear of residues.

We have rounded the pond when one tilapia re-surfaced for another grasp of the bran but immediately plunged back when it saw that everything had already been consumed. I was urged to throw a fistful.

'That one's quite hungry', I exclaimed.

'They're due for harvest next week', my buddy replied, 'that one must have known that I'm hoping for few additional pounds. Come back and you'll get few pieces for free', he cracked. I knew he would be selling the excess from their provision.

A few weeks after, I caught up with a neighbor while cleaning up his aquarium. The goldfishes were temporarily put in a large basin. After the cleaning has been done, the fantails were put back in the glass case for feeding. After a few minutes of grasping feed pellets, one piece bloated as a ping-pong ball played dead to the glee of this neighbor. 'This one loves to show off to visitors', he says. 'Taking care of these things relieves me. I guess that's why they're created'.

The encounter with these two fishes stirred questions about meanings and purpose. That things are not much as a matter of choice as a consequence of pre-ordained calling: a tilapia for food, a goldfish to embellish.

If you happen to pass by the Sto. Nino de Paz Chapel in Greenbelt, you will notice a school of fish on the pond where it sits. If you happen to look closely, you will notice that a gray tilapia swims among the colorful kois. Good if you happen admire the tilapia too among the kois. I do not. To my thinking, its swimming in a pond that is intended to be admired for its colorful inhabitants doesn't achieve the tilapia's purpose. But I digress from those who mock the tilapia for where it is. It might not have been a choice for that tilapia to make.

If it's not much of a bother, please say a little prayer on my behalf.

scotch mist

Sometimes, nature gives you a sick sense of humor for a realization.

There's this guyabano outside of my room bearing several ripening fruits. 'Ignorable' guyabano is to me (I still go for mangoes when fruits) but I was drawn into stocktaking one day. There's this particular one that just got me: it is not the biggest (which would typically be the favored one) neither the most plump of the bunch (which would make for a pulpy shake) but I knew this tiny piece would just be right to 'satisfy' a craving in me. This one got me into daily morning visits and my anticipation was building for the 'right time' for this piece to finally ripen in the care of nature's elements. As they say, "masarap ang hindi hinog sa pilit" (what's ripened by time is more delightful).

Then the day finally came when I figured it's the right time for picking. I haven't climbed a tree in quite a time to note that the guyabano branch is not as sturdy to carry my weight and 'hantiks' (big red ants) had been guarding the trunk where 'my' fruit was hinged on. Quite a gamble for one 'ignorable' guyabano, but I was driven into letting loose of some defenses for this one glory - to my terms at least.

So how would you feel when you got out that morning mustering all hopes and find a flock of 'kulansyangs' (red-eyed black birds) pecking into 'your' fruit? Only the seeds which fell to the earth knew how long they had been devouring it.

A raging sense was all over you twinged with the eroding feeling of regret: I should have picked it 'yesterday'. Yet it was funny why looking at the birds cannot make you feel the audacity to drive them away. It's no longer of any use because even after you succeed in shooing them away and reclaim 'your' fruit, it might no longer serve its purpose since its flesh were already among the birds. What is there left for your planned guyabano shake?

Then you learn to take things as they are, maybe in the way they were intended to be. And finally, when you steered clear of things, you realize that you had no right to claim 'that' guyabano as yours: looking by the window you knew that the 'kulansyangs' owned the entire tree. They always did and never really left it. While my eyes were fixed on 'that' fruit, I did not notice that on a far branch, they had built nests. I couldn't know for how long they had been humming melodies for that guyabano to ripen.

What better thing to do but to retreat to your own confines. You cannot continue wallowing on that wee bit feeling of loss over that 'thing' that cannot become, had never been yours in the first place. What better thing to believe is to be persuaded in the thought that somewhere, other 'guyabanos' will soon come into bloom that no birds own. What better thing to realize is that you have the capacity to 'nurture' and have hope.

Outside, the rain slowly drip and I noticed that there are new buds coming into bloom. I hope in time, the birds will give me 'this' one piece.