Once upon a time there was a small bird called Pepper. Due to her excellent vocal range Pepper was put in charge of the first range of sound in the mornings. This was an especially important role since the first sound was the most subtle and it was responsible for waking up the most subtle of humanity. These humans, in turn, were responsible for waking the next round of humans through inventions and their good intentions. There was a cascading effect and Pepper was the first to set it off.
One morning, on one of her flights, Pepper realised her song wasn't waking up one of her people. Usually, when she flew past and sang her tune, she would feel an energy rise behind her. This morning it was different and she started to feel the heavy pull dragging her down. She looked into the bedroom window and saw the human forlorn and hiding under the covers.
Pepper fluttered mid air. She looked over her shoulder at the sun slowly rising, the people ahead of her and the potential domino effect of the system breaking down. She felt a rise of panic. It would mean letting down so many for the one.
And in her despair, she stopped singing. It grew quiet. Her wings gently holding her mid flight.
So still. No thing.
So still that in that pause the heavy energy lost it's momentum, it's purpose, it's opposite, it's game plan.
And as she fluttered above the human, she saw her look out the window and directly at Pepper and held her gaze. Pepper smiled and promised she would be back tomorrow morning.
(A story based on a song called "The Littlest Birds" by the Be Good Tanyas and a real life one that stayed with me from an article about a man, on suicide watch, who befriended a sparrow that would visit him everyday. It was the first and only time he said he ever knew love.)