Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Wounded Bird

My friends, you may wonder at my choice of names for my blog - or not - but I will tell you anyway. For some reason, whether it's the way God made me, or because I grew up with an abusive, alcoholic father, and am wounded myself, or whatever, I am drawn to the wounded, both people and animals. My dear departed sister called it "the wounded bird syndrome." My niece, her daughter, has the syndrome also.

I have thought that if I ever started a blog of my own that I would call it "Wounded Bird". To my wonder and surprise, the name was available on Blogger.

We have never had a pet by choice of breed. Ours have always been strays, who just showed up and seemed nice, and I felt sorry for them, and took them in. At this time we have only one pet, a mixed-breed dog named Diana. She was found by the animal rescue folks with an arrow in her leg. Of course, they put her picture in the paper, and, of course, she came to live with us, when she was about a year old. She is now is pushing on 11 years old and the poor dear has glaucoma, and is pretty well blind in one eye. It costs the earth to keep her in glaucoma medication, but there you are; once you give your heart away to an animal, you are responsible.

At one period, we had one dog and six cats. We were the cat people of the neighborhood. We have no cats now, because Diana hates cats, I mean HATES them. When she came to live with us, we had one cat, Boy, and each time the cat went into the yard at the same time as Diana, he was up a tree. He died from kidney failure not long after Diana came to live with us , but I think it was from stress. It was quite unfair, because Boy was here first.

One evening, a huge stray tom cat got into our yard and fought with Diana. My husband could not separate them, and it was a fight to the near death of the tom cat, which my husband had to finish off. So goes life in the jungles of south Louisiana. In the end, Diana was pretty beat up herself, so you see that she really hates cats. It was Diana or the tom cat. One of them was not going to make it.

Early in our marriage, my husband rescued a mother flying squirrell and her three babies from their nest in a tree which was being cut down. We kept them in a hamster cage in our tiny apartment for a couple of years, until I had enough of the smell and the mess, and I convinced him to let them loose on a college campus with lots of trees and space. It was quite exciting when we'd let them out of the cage, because they FLEW.

You now have a small part of the picture of "the wounded bird syndrome" in action over many years at chez Mimi, as applied to the beasts of God's creation.

I know I'll make you breathless with suspense, when I say that in my next post, I will go into the "wounded bird syndrome" in action with human beings.

20 comments:

  1. A wounded bird still sings! If we were never wounded, we would be of such little use to others as to be people of little consequence.

    Before I take my breath of anticipation -- a dog story.

    My first German Shepherd, Strider, was active and very intelligent. He and the 3 cats had rules of engagement. If the cat were on the porch, or in the house, there was no chasing of cats. Nuzzling was even observed from time-to-time. However, if they were in the yard, they could be chased with wild abandon. They all knew the rules and it worked just fine and kept the cats in good shape.

    After Strider died, he was followed by German Shepherd #2, Ranger. He was active, but not too smart. The cats anticipated the same rules of engagement, and seemed very distressed to learn that under the new regime, the rule was, there were no rules. All in good fun on the part of the dog, but it cannot be said that a good time was had by all.

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  2. Mimi..The Wounded Bird Syndrome is suffered by so many - I'm a member along with you.

    I hate to see anyone suffering.

    Even my enemies (and it always surprises me!)

    If it were up to me, I'd have a small zoo, but, my dear husband, will not have it.

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  3. KJ, I love the animal stories. I hope I don't freak anyone out with the story of the fight between the dog and the cat. Our wonder dog, Rusty, coexisted peacefully with our cats, sometimes even snuggling with them, as your Strider did.

    Eileen, I'm trying to work out blogrolling for my friends with blogs. I have the instructions, but it's finding the time and getting things to work. I'm already at the computer far too much, and having the blog will only make it worse.

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  4. We have a secret sign on our gate left by some cat - that says "nice man, loves cats, good food, warm beds" My husband has taken in several -we are down to 3 now. They all showed up with some sort of woundedness - including a 3 legged one who now sits with him and helps him with the computer. Ms Kitty as she is called - was feral but he tamed her and know she is devoted to him.

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  5. Ann, I'll bet three-legged Ms Kitty does all the work, and your husband is merely the front man.

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  6. Okay, I see you made the right choice. Hope you get this. I have to say that I think we are all wounded birds in one way or another. It has to do with dysfunctional families. See, I believe we all come from dysfunctional families,,,,some are just more dysfunctional than others.
    And now to push the post bar...

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  7. KJ, I was so impressed with the first sentence of your comment that I stole it to put under my title. Is that OK? I'll take it down if you say so.

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  8. Grandmére, I wish I could take credit for the quote, but alas, I cannot. I'm afraid that you will tease me mercilessly when you learn that this is from a song written by Olivia Newton-John, "Love is Letting Go of Fear" on an album entitled "Grace and Gratitude", an album that integrates various faith traditions in sound and lyrics with a focus on health and healing. In part, the lyric goes:

    Pain is something you can't ignore
    You're always wondering what the hurt is for
    Your heart feels something that it can't explain
    You yearn for love, but you're afraid to change

    Remember, a wounded bird still sings
    Remember, faith has tiny wings
    Love is letting go of fear
    Love is letting go of doubt
    Love is letting go of the chains that tie your spirit down
    Love is letting go of pain
    Love is learning how to dance inside the light again.



    However, if I should ever have an original, creative thought, please feel free to use it!

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  9. KJ, will I have to put that up on my blog? If I don't, will I have to take the words down? Olivia Newton-John! What shall I do? It fits so well. Olivia Newton-John is just not me. I'll take it down. Gee, I wish you had said it.

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  10. The ONJ of today is not the one of the 70s and 80s. Life, raising a child, divorce, battling cancer, losing a partner has a way of changing one. The CD is meditative and contemplative and beautiful with a theme of gratitude for all that life brings. It speaks to me.

    Since it includes sounds and lyrics from various faith traditions, including Buddhism, evangelicals do not approve of it, but for different reasons than why they wanted "Physical", a song as leader of the PCGLBTL (Prudish Christian GLBT League) I must say I never cared for, banned in the 80s.

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  11. KJ, I have not been fair to ONJ, nor to you, because I have not listened to her recent music. I really did like the line.

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  12. I once knew someone who was a major fan of Olivia Newton-John. I never got it. It really didn't make any sense to me. I mean, she all but ruined the movie version of Grease. unforgiveable.

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  13. kj, do I see a theme developing here? Strider, Ranger... Is there going to be a Halbarad, by any chance?

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  14. So, in the next episode, Wounded Bird's husband has to put some poor human being out of his misery, that Wounded Bird had picked a fight to the death with in her garden.

    Sounds exciting. I must remember to tune in.

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  15. Ah, Tim -- If only. Ranger was the last of my shepherds and Halbarad was not to be. My partner is fond of Dachshunds, but not of The Lord of the Rings, so I couldn't negotiate a Hobbit name for The Wiener.

    Damn compromise!

    Wait a minute! Wiener dog? No LOTR's name? If there's a compromise there, it eludes me.

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  16. Your blog name reminds me of the people who arrive at Saint Helena's Vails Gate, NY guest house. So many, and I have been one of them at one time or another, are wounded birds who desperately need a safe nest to heal their broken wings so they can fly again. And, yes, as KJ said, a wounded bird can still sing and it is through the rhythm of prayer of the convent that I have been healed and strengthened to go back out into the fray.

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  17. Yes, Caminante, so many, so many wounded birds, including me and thee.

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  18. All I can hear (you'll forgive me, MP) is Paul McCartney's voice singing,

    "Blackbird singing in the dead of night

    Take these broken wings and learn to fly

    All your life

    You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

    Blackbird singing in the dead of night

    Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

    All your life

    You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

    Blackbird fly blackbird fly
    Into the light of the dark black night.

    Blackbird fly blackbird fly
    Into the light of the dark black night.

    Blackbird singing in the dead of night

    Take these broken wings and learn to fly

    All your life

    You were only waiting for this moment to arise

    You were only waiting for this moment to arise

    You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

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  19. Liza with a Z, I'm hearing that song too. Thanks.

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