October — The Blessing of Animals and Nature
Everybody loved the Blessing of Animals and Nature, especially the children, of course, who had waited all year to bring their pets to the Hearth so that the Twins could utter a benediction over them.
At the beginning of October, all families climbed the stairs up to the Market Square, bringing a basket, a birdcage or a fish bowl, happy to show off their beloved pets, which had been specially groomed for this particular occasion, even though they looked a little grumpy in their carriers, appalled by the indignity of being dragged around town.
At the top of the stairs that led to the Market Square, merchants were handing out ribbons of every color, for people who wanted to make a last minute decision to beautify their furry or feathery friends for the happy occasion.
Most of her friends had a dog or a kitty cat, Aifa had a singing crow. It had come in from the fields one morning, through her open window, and perched itself on the window sill, cawing delicately, as if not to scare her. It was large, almost the size of a hawk, and had lustrous black feathers, on which the morning sunshine cast green and blue highlights.
Aifa’s family tried to convince her that the crow was a wild bird, which just happened to land upon her window sill at the moment when it needed to rest, but the bird returned the next morning, and the morning after that, and its singing became a feature in the neighborhood, so much so that when, for some reason, it didn’t show up, people worried and asked Aifa what happened to it.
It occasionally made cawing sounds, but most of the time it sang, with the sweet warbles of a nightingale.
So now, every morning, regardless of the weather, Aifa opened the window, waiting for the crow to stop by and rest, and placed little treats on the sill, gifts of grain or fruit, which her visitor sampled on occasion, just to be polite.
Aifa was a little sad that she wouldn’t be able to bring her feathered companion to the Hearth, since it was, after all, a creature of the wilderness, but to everyone’s surprise, the bird showed up right on cue, minutes before the family was planning to walk to the Hearth, perched itself on Aifa’s shoulder and refused to leave.
“I see your friend decided to show up,” grandmother smiled mysteriously. “They are very smart birds, you know.”
Aifa climbed the stairs to the Market Square, proudly, with the giant black bird on her shoulder, an image that nobody questioned in the large sea of pigeons, canaries and parakeets, all perched up on people’s shoulders just the same, the only difference being that their legs were loosely tied to their owners’ wrists so they wouldn’t fly away.
When they reached the top of the stairs, the crow flew to one of the merchants’ baskets and picked a ribbon for itself, and then flew over to the stone railing at the look out and waited patiently for Aifa to fashion it into a bow and tie it around one if its legs. It then resumed its place on Aifa’s shoulder, as the latter approached the Hearth.
The Market Square was filled to the brim with people and their pets, who had come to receive the Twins’ blessing, and also to witness the yearly miracle of the birds.
The Twins got out into the square, and looked up at the sun, and it shone brighter; they looked out at the sea and it gleamed, happy; they looked around at the animals, and they all made little sounds, according to their species; they looked at the people and the people were filled with joy.
All of the sudden, as if out of nowhere, all the birds of the land arrived, in large flocks, birds of the sea and birds of the fields alike, and their collective singing drowned every other sound in the square. They landed and made themselves comfortable everywhere they could find room. They had resigned themselves to share this space with people for the occasion, and covered the stone caps of the railing and the flagstones of the plaza, but most of all, people’s heads and shoulders and the outstretched arms of the Twins.
The two just stood, smiling and covered in birds, and in the crude sunlight of the morning, they almost looked like they had wings themselves, as the feathery visitors flopped and fretted on their arms, trying to keep their balance while they packed tightly together.
The seagulls had arrived last, when there was no more room for them to land, so they all perched on top of the roofs all around the square, and especially on the roof of the Hearth, which had suddenly turned white and bluish gray for the occasion.
“Why are all the birds flocking here today, doyenne?” Aifa whispered to her grandmother, although she already knew the answer, only because she wanted to hear the story one more time.
“They come to talk to the Twins,” grandmother obliged.
“The Twins can talk to the birds?” Aifa asked.
“The Twins can talk to all nature: to the birds, and to the animals, and to the sun, and the moon, and the rivers, and the wind,” grandmother replied. “They are their protectors.”
“Do you think my friend knows that?” Aifa turned her head to look at the crow, who rested on her shoulder in silence, mesmerized by the Twins’ gaze.
“That is a mystery, granddaughter. One for the crow and for the Twins to shed light on, but I’m going to guess that neither of them are going to.”
“What do you think the Twins are telling them?” Aifa burst with curiosity. What did one say to a bird to make it fly, enchanted, at one’s feet?
“They are calling them sisters and brothers. Nature is powerful and kind, and filled with the love that binds us all. Maybe the birds can’t understand the Twins’ words, but they can feel their hearts, and that’s why they come.”
Aifa looked up at her crow, and the bird turned its head, as if to point out that it didn’t want to be disturbed during the ceremony.
“Great!” Aifa thought. “I am being disciplined by a bird. If that’s not humility, I don’t know what is!”
“We put ourselves above all things,” grandmother responded, as if she’d heard, “but we are only stewards of the world we live in. We are here for a while, just like our ancestors before us, and we need to leave the world thriving and pristine to our descendants. If you put yourself above a tiny bird, or an unassuming weed, you will never feel the love of the spirit, which fills all beings and keeps life in balance.”
The Twins must have finished their silent conversation with the creatures of the sky, because the birds had started taking off, group by group, leaving room for the four legged pets to approach the Twins. The crow picked at the bow around its leg until it untied it, then dropped the ribbon on Aifa’s shoulder and left.
“It must have other commitments,” grandmother teased.
After the ceremony ended, it was customary for people to take a walk outside of town, so they could enjoy the beauty of the turning leaves one more time, before the weather became unpleasant. The Twins led the way, as they did when they were children, and just as excited by every sprout, insect or creature they encountered on their path.
“How are they never bored with all of this?” Aifa asked grandmother. “It’s like they have seen a butterfly for the first time, every time.”
“That is exactly how we all should approach life, with childlike wonder. We become accustomed to the miracle around us and we forget to appreciate it, but it is all a miracle, life is. When you start really looking at the world around you, you start to understand that everything springs forth effortlessly out of nothing, and realize how much of your energy, and the energy of everything around you, you pilfer by fighting life as if it were a battle. The essence of life doesn’t fret, it is not brash or boastful, it doesn’t envy, it doesn’t hate. Life is very modest in its splendor, and its miracles happen in silence.”
The sun came out of the clouds, and when it hit the orange, yellow and red foliage of the trees, it made the hills and valleys look like they were on fire. The sky was just as periwinkle blue as it had been in spring, as if nature didn’t care whether it looked at an end or a beginning.
“That’s because there is no such thing. Life is round, it doesn’t have a beginning or an end, just discernible, repeatable patterns.”
“Doesn’t that make you sad, doyenne? That there is nothing new under the sun?” Aifa asked.
“Sometimes,” grandmother admitted. “But if the universe itself runs in circles, who am I to want things to be otherwise? Don’t worry, granddaughter! Just because the yearly cycle is so short that you can see its repetitions, that doesn’t mean all of the cycles of existence are the same. Some span lifetimes, some span eons. You’ll have plenty of experiences throughout your life to keep you always learning something new.”
“Is that what life is about? Learning?”
“If I had an answer to that question, I would be the first human in existence to do so. Maybe we are all looking at answers in search of questions, and in our fervent desire to give life meaning we miss its meaning altogether. Nobody ever asked me what is the meaning of me loving you, and yet this love is more important to me than the tasks and functions I usually ascribe meaning to. Maybe only the lesser things send you, anxious and intense, in search of their meaning. The things of real value, you just know. We live our whole lives in repeating cycles, on purpose, so that we notice the repetitions, and in that, learn to look beyond them, beyond the surface of our daily existence, for life’s more profound lessons.”
“But then you can’t enjoy things anymore! How can you enjoy things when you see them as unimportant?” Aifa protested, upset as if grandmother had ruined Bonfire Day for her.
“Everything has its time, Aifa. When you are a child, you enjoy childish things, but then you grow up, and you lay those things aside. You wouldn’t want to perceive your entire life through the lens of your five year old self, would you?”
“But you just said that I should keep my childlike wonder,” Aifa protested the logical contradiction.
“See, that is one of the aspects of mystery, it often seems to contradict itself within the boundaries of human logic, but its message is always consistent and self-reinforcing, even when looked at through opposing ends.”
“If the logic of the divine and human logic have nothing in common, then what is the point of human logic at all?” Aifa mumbled, mostly to herself. “Might as well throw it to the wayside and live like the birds.” She paused to realize that was exactly what the Twins did.
“Maybe your crow can offer an opinion on this tomorrow morning,” grandmother said, half joking.
“If we can’t figure this out, why do you think the crow would know?” Aifa replied.
“What makes you think we’re smarter?” grandmother smiled at her, and then started to collect colorful leaves and stems to take home for decorating.
All that walking up and down the hills and valleys, combined with the discussions about the meaning of life, had given Aifa quite an appetite, and she was looking forward to a warm meal. She knew her mother had started making her favorite soup, rich and creamy and flavored by the fruits of the fall, and she figured the soup must be ready by now. She enjoyed its hearty flavor in advance, and planned to pair it with the fresh goat cheese she and her grandmother had purchased the day before. All of this planning lifted her spirits and she picked up the pace to get home faster. She remembered the shortcut she had discovered the previous week and was glad they could get home much sooner than usual and then it dawned on her that, even in the light of universal truths, and despite a meager understanding of the divine laws, maybe there still was some redeeming value in the workings of human logic after all.
