Could it be a desire to domesticate evil?
All moments are pregnant. They are imbued with meaning. The birth of meaning is the awareness of it, when the meaning descends from the womb of the moment, so to speak, into the horizon of our awareness. But more often than not, moments pass us by without delivering their meaning in our awareness but go past us and deliver the meaning in the infinite space of nothingness beyond our conscious. And yet there are few other moments, who go into labor right before our eyes, writhe to push their meaning into the thick layer of our awareness. This is when you sense the heaviness of the moment, that there is more to it than the ordinariness meets the eye. A light, halo of mystery, symbolism forms over the moment, like a dream. The moment undergoes excruciating pain until you get the meaning, until you pull it into your understanding.
Three days ago, I experienced one such moment of the latter kind. The moment, alive in my mind, still writhes with pain to deliver its meaning. If only I were a psychoanalyst or a Prophet Joseph so I would interpret the meaning behind the moment. I share the moment with you in the hope that I may find interpreter of moments among you.
It was dawn.
I was standing over the pond in the park, feeding crumbled bread to the hungry fish in the cold morning water. It is part of the early morning ritual I introduced into my life. The ritual is part of the new age spirituality I have gotten into. This ritual begins with waking up at the crack of dawn, at around 5, peel myself off the sweetness of the early morning sleep, get into my sportswear, walk out of my room, and into the world. I have come to imagine that dawn is like my friends of my childhood days who come by my home to take me out to play; that if I fail to come out or come late to welcome the day, the day acts all surly towards me. It turns events or people against me through the day.
And so, without fail, I leap into the new day at dawn. Outside, I do some stretching and jog my way to the park two miles away from home. I consider the short half an hour exercise pumping in the pristine air of dawn into my system.
The park is my spiritual spot of meditation. At dawn, the serenity of the place, the soft rustle of the wind over the pond, the tree all around it, green and blue reflection upon the pond is surreal.
The feeding act was a recent addition to the morning ritual. The thought came upon me like a revelation; that a habit of generosity towards the blameless creatures there in the park, the fish, would lend much needed spiritual power to my meditation. And so, the night before, I would buy them a bread haul and take it with me to the park and just before I descend unto my meditation, I would feed them and carry their gratitude with me to my meditation.
At around 5:30, I stand over the pond with my bread haul, in prayer before God to bless the little bread I brought for the blameless creatures, like He blessed the meals of the disciples and break it into pieces and throw them unto the fishes.
The pregnant moment was not entirely new. It happened often, but it was only this dawn that I was able to sense its heaviness. First, a flock of birds, seeing what I was up to, would join in the party and plead to partake of the feast with the fish. Then, two crows, hovered over at the margin, stealing in, to snatch any stray crumbs I threw on to the birds. I did not pay heed to them at first, only feeding the birds and the fish. Until this dawn.
This dawn, for the reasons I could not tell, a sudden desire to feed the crows came over me. I found myself turning my back on the expectant fish, walked past birds that swarmed around me, and began to throw the crows crumbs. Unlike the birds, they jumped back at the throw of the bread. They stood cautious as though suspicious of my act of kindness. I stepped back to communicate to them that I wanted to feed them in earnest. The birds moved in and began to pick up what was not their due; I was irritated, the way they strutted in. I was startled to find myself shooing the birds away in my irritation. I was startled even more at my rejoice to watch the crows swallow up the crumbs.
Does this mean anything? Am I making a big deal out of an insignificant moment — perhaps out of the hyperactivity of mind, on account of the new age spirituality? Or could there be a meaning behind it? Perhaps a desire for domestication of evil?
