All morning as I was working at my desk, I occasionally glanced over to look at the parakeet cage near the window in the room. My son has two parakeets, NB (for New Bird) and Max. Max, a blue parakeet and the older of the two is going to die soon. It is painfully obvious. I keep thinking, maybe it's time to take him to the vet to make sure he isn't suffering. But the amazing thing about watching him is every time I see him fall or struggle to fly and I think 'this is it', he gets back up on his feet, climbs the ladder, and gets back on his perch. He nibbles at his food takes a drink of water and rests.
Over and over he gets back on his feet, makes the long climb up to the bar to sit in his usual spot. His determination has a certain dignity to it. He doesn't want to give up and he simply goes on living. His feathers are unkempt and he now has a little bald spot on the top of his head from NB picking at him, but he sits and goes about his business adding up the moments, one after another, that he decides to stay. Quantum physics tells us that time is relative. That the concept of linear time - time as a continuous, fluid line of events- is merely an illusion. Instead it says time is a floating, infinite cluster of moments. Humans try to string it together to make sense of everything. Perhaps the idea that we exist only from one random moment to another is too upsetting to wrap our heads around. But for Max that is what life is. One moment, then another. Appreciating that one step, that one glimpse of movement as our cat, Lola walks by, that one taste of food, or that one tone of sound from the radio. Life slows down as it comes to an end and all creatures seem to finally see time for what it is. A cluster of moments collected in our minds where we try to make some sense of it.
UPDATE: March 5, 2012
Max finally passed away today. He was a brave little bird and will miss hearing his call in the morning. Could teach us all a lesson about persistence and appreciating simply being alive.
