Gull Screams

I’m thinking about the pattern that you and I are finding that we are in, in our individual lives- and that it’s a vital pattern, even if we get into fights with our friends or cohorts. Some strange twists come through that no one expected, and that always, always teach us about ourselves. And what I’m thinking about tonight, is that in this pattern that I am living and being lived by, sort of both at the same time, that there is not exactly a comfort, yet in knowing the depth and robustness of it, even though some of the events that may happen are beyond any kind of thought that I might have…

I do have a sense that containing it all, and the containment I mean as an embrace rather than any kind of constriction, though at times it may seem like a constriction- that through it all, there is this sense of constancy, alertness, a vitality that is beyond a human kind of awareness, and accompanying this deep love is a sort of ironic humor. Some have called it antinomy, and some have called it other things. In the midst of our tantrums is a kind and compassionate awareness, that is fully privy to the horrors that humans can experience if they choose to- if they place themselves in the path of a tsunami or earthquake or even death.

Sometimes, in the difficult times, the contacts with our friends who understand us mean so much. Yes, it has been a difficult day, and yes wasn’t the expression of so many inexplicable- and yes, I’m here to talk with you and let you know as you let me know, that we aren’t crazy. And that it was a pissy day, with everyone on their horse. (Whether it was high or not is other than for us to say.) We, all of us, watched amazed, as these horses go by, one by one. And it isn’t the horse’s fault, by any means. At least I wasn’t riding one of those horses, was I?

You can look into a horse’s eyes and see the extraordinary equine forbearance towards humans, most of the time. And sometimes they have had enough.

When I go to the beach, I sometimes see gulls who just start screaming out of nowhere. There is such permission in that, in a gull scream, ’cause that’s what they do- they don’t wonder if anyone is going to criticize them for vocalizing. So I’ll join in, sometimes, and remember that when my emotions get to a certain point, I can release them through a gull scream.

And the beach is still there, and the waves roll in endlessly. My friends are done tantruming for the night, as am I. How have I contributed to the general field of pissyness, I wonder? Such a curious thing, a pissy dance. And the dance floor didn’t go away, and we aren’t dead yet. I’d rather waltz, or West Coast Swing. Sometimes the pissy dance is all we know, ’cause that’s the expression of the gull scream, waiting to come out all day long.

And then, the gulls stop screaming and look at you curiously, and it is as if they had never screamed in that next moment, but were always walking nonchelantly, pigeon or gull-toed along the beach, looking for the next morsel.

©2011 Anthony S. Wright, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved.

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