Saturday, June 5, 2010

FEATHERS IN THE GRASS

So after wasting getting up at 5:15 and "wasting" an hour and a half on the internet i decided to spend no more time stressing over the oil spill for once, and take an hour at the gym to send my energies elsewhere for a minute. As I was walking to the gym I noticed something, there was this huge gorgeous feather just lying on the grass. It also had freshly fallen from a bird, you could tell by how clean it was and untouched.

This feather got me thinking about myself when I was a child and how if I ever saw a feather on the grass i would have picked it up in a heartbeat. It wouldn't have mattered if it was freshly removed or not. And then I would play with that feather, and keep it in my room as if it was the most precious object I have ever found. (It was my gold. It was my oil. It was my Dolce & Gabana cologne. Hello?)

This morning I walked over to pick it up, but then thought, "What is the point in picking up the feather? What would I even do with it?" And then I continued my walk to the gym. It was on the rest of the walk that I thought, "Why wouldn't I pick it up? If I was a child that feather most assuredly would not still be there even if I was heading to the zoo or an amusement park. Nothing would have stopped me from picking up that feather."

What happens to us as we get older that we start forgetting those amazing childhood moments? I am sure that if I sat and contemplated it I could come up with so many more amazing and interesting ways to keep and preserve that feather than a six-year-old could. However, I decided I didn't want to use my brain that way anymore. I believe, at this moment while I am typing this, what an awful decision that was to just leave that feather on the grass.

A feather is special. A feather to me symbolizes strength, wisdom, flight, heights, elegance, beauty, and perseverance. That is what a feather indicates if I sit and dream about it. However, I decided to disregard all of that beauty and pass up the feather. I don't know if a six-year-old would have thought of any of those things, and yet they would respect that feather more than this 30-ahem-something would. Maybe a six-year-old knows all along how beautiful and magical a feather can be. Maybe the six-year-old just doesn't have the words yet to express the intelligence they possess.

So I want to make a vow (and who cares that it took me all these words to say this), but I will never pass up another feather on the grass again. I am going to respect that what that is on the grass is not just a feather, but a bit of childhood brilliance. I don't think that childhood brilliance should be left sitting on the grass.