Joy (cithra) wrote,

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Looks like I might get to stay on this side of the water tonight. What on earth will I do with myself? snort Unpack a few more of my own boxes, I imagine - Mom's move being inspirational.

I know at least one reason why I resist un-packing all the way is that sense of finality - if I'm still living out of boxes, I'm still in transition. If I'm still in transition, then I can't be pinned down. This fulfills two survivals: 1) it's harder to hit a moving target, and 2) it's easier to forgive faults if there's lots of other stuff going on - as in it's easy to forgive something dropped of a juggler who is juggling 2 eggs, 7 bean-bags and a chainsaw on the deck of a ship sailing under storm; less so a juggler juggling one (1) bean-bag of disproportionately large size on level ground. I think it's related to why I've never particularly wanted to own a house - too much thereness makes me fidgety. Life is much easier to bear while I cherish the illusion I could slip off in the night.

What I logged on to write about was neither of these, but of the great joy of seeing the peregrine falcons hunting over my building on Sunday afternoon. sharkins and I were walking back down the hill after our pizza, and I noticed in passing the two birds circling, lazy against the sky. Part of what I love about Capitol Hill and First Hill is the wild life, squirrels and crows and a huge flock of pigeons rock doves that will occasionally mistake me for the woman who feeds them and come swarming up to meet me as I'm walking to work - so birds on the wing are not an unusual part of the backdrop. But my eye kept being drawn back to them as my cataloging soul tried and failed to fit them into the standard categories - too light for crows, too small for gulls, the wrong shape for pigeons... we got closer and one of them dropped their gyre enough for me to see the bars on their wings, and it all clicked together. They live on the Washington Mutual tower, you see, and as not-thinking of me as it was I somehow failed to appreciate their hunting could easily take them from thence to my environs. Compartmentalizing, yes.

We stood there some moments in the middle of the sidewalk and watched them swoop over us and around, the sweet double helix of their intertwined flight as awesome as any pillared cathedral, any temple karyatid holding up the blue vault of heaven. As often as I find the universe intricate and perverse, sometimes a little is enough.

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