more lessons from the reservoir.

there's a bird in central park that is braver than i am.

at 89th and lexington there is an entrance to a 1.3 mile loop around a resevoir that continually serves as restoration for my mental health. it has kept me from going crazy in my Manhattan-sized apartment, and keeps the asylum-like white walls from closing in on me, though i'd rather be discontent with unemployment than satisfied with laziness.

but i found my sometimes overlypensive self at my favorite part of the resevoir where you can pinpoint the union between the old museum architecture and the sleek design of today's modern buildings. but on this day i wasn't spotting these differences or absorbing the reflected sun rays off of the glassy water like in the ending scene in the Little Mermaid.

i was watching a duck. it's not really a duck, but it kind of looks like one. it has darker coloring, and a longer neck, but it's not a swan either. it's smaller and skinnier and a goose. i don't know what this mystery waterbird is, but it's the coolest not-duck-goose-or-swan i've ever seen.

this bird was too good for the cheerios the four year old girl next to me was throwing at it, disappointed by her ignored efforts. this bird didn't wait for the bits of old sandwich to drift it's way after some corporate suit probably carlessly threw in the water as his lunch break leftovers. this bird didn't wait for anything to float toward it. this bird spotted it's food below the surface and completely immersed itself to get it. it's whole body dove underwater in the blink of an eye to tackle it's food. the bird would sometimes come up satisfied, and sometimes come up blank. though the bird doesn't have the most expressive facial features or any real postural difference to indicate it's emotions, i don't think this bird ever regretted diving in head first.

and there i was pondering why oh why the jobs i applied for weren't calling me back. fighting the economy is a full court press, and really it's own full time job. sometimes i have the fire to hunt like this bird, and sometimes i'm burnt out and would rather have the job posts thrown my way. but goals, and on some level dreams, don't get tossed to you by toddlers with cheerio-stocked parents and cubicle slaves on their lunchbreak.

i'm surrounded by a lot of artists and seeing the fierocity that they tackle their daily routines with is inspiring. for many, staying creatively active means being up before everyone else and not sleeping until the long after the 9-to-5ers are counting sheep. they, too, immerse themselves fully in their craft, sometimes fruitfully and sometimes leaving them emptyhanded. but with the same stoic expression and upright position, they march on in the face of the grinding effort and in the name of art, often times pushing their way against the current. this inspired lifestyle relights my engine when it is out as i try and manuever my way to a 40+ hour work week.

we should all have a bird brain.
-k.