Ornithotypology

I had another real moment today. As I approached my front door today, a cedar waxwing flew so close to me that he actually brushed my shirt with his wing. I suddenly noticed that dozens of them were perched nearby and were eating the berries from a juniper near my front door. They were so close I could see their expressions. They looked like their faces had been airbrushed on, so perfect and crisp. It was such a beautiful and moving sight, I just stood and looked at them for at least fifteen minutes, until they grew tired of being admired and folded themselves back into the sky en masse. I have had this experience before. I have been in a bar, surrounded by gorgeous, flawless people--seedier waxthings, if you'll indulge me in a bit of wordplay--sipping their juniper and tonics, and allowing themselves to be admired. I have been so overwhelmed by the ubiquity of beautiful people that I can't decide who to look at first, until sensory overload convinces me to fold back into the scenery and disappear.

The Romans were in the habit of finding signs in the appearance of birds, and I cannot help but do the same here. For the first time in my life, I am one of those beautiful people. I have lost sixty-five pounds, and am in the best shape of my life. I find myself in the unfamiliar circumstance of being hit on by strangers, etc. It is therefore significant that, after the waxwings had denuded the juniper and flown away, I heard the beautiful song of a chickadee. I stooped to see under the branches of the juniper, and there he was: contendedly exploring the underbrush and sincerely sending his piccolo voice into the universe. He was nowhere as pretty as the waxwings and not at all glamorous, but my home was not simply a stop on his way to Mexico. He had nowhere better to be. What he had was enough.

Kierkegaard endorses the idea of "Ultimate Resignation," and I think this is the option in front of me now. I have the charisma and appearance necessary for initiation into the prestigious fraternity of ambulatory Abercrombie billboards, but I decline. I am sustained by the light of the universe, and I forfeit all other claims. In fact, I am officially not looking for romance or approval of any sort (and if you have read much of this blog, you know how preoccupied I have been with it). Anerriphtho Kubos.