I couldn’t get tibetian nuns dot org to load. I wanted to decipher the hand mudhra of the buddha sitting in our hallway. We’ve been renting our semi-furnished place for a year, which came with buddhas-thank-god, and I didn’t even notice the hand gestures. Or maybe I did, and just learned that each one has a different meaning.
That was Saturday, the day I learned about the do no harm and take no shit meditation.
Turns out it’s the Mudhra with one palm out (take no shit) and the other in a cup formation like a giant hand collecting the whole world’s tears. Fearlessness. Abhaya Mudra.
I was also googling the anatomy of doves. I wanted to know if the dove that smacked into our window had broken a rib, or what the black thing protruding from his chest was. There’s still a heart-shaped smudge on the glass.
My partner said he’d pancaked – he was the one who saw it happen. I ran upstairs immediately after hearing the noise that rattled the paper-mache walls of our apartment.
Animal Rescue arrived in under ten minutes, because San Francisco. Drips of crimson dove blood spattered the patio tiles.
We watched from the doorway as the dove, having regained consciousness, flew back up onto the railing, took one look at us and disappeared into a nearby tree.
I cringed at the symbolism — I mean, blood trickling from the heart of a dove — it must go all the way back to biblical times. Learned there is a species called the bleeding heart dove, evolved to look injured so its prey would think it was spoiled meat.
In any case, we were relieved that he was okay.
Five days ago, everyone was obsessed with the Big Bear eagle cam. The eagle parents, Jackie and Shadow, took turns incubating the eggs in a nest high above North Shore Drive.
One day, an egg began to hatch. The hatchling knocked its tiny beak against the inside of the shell until it cracked open —but the next morning, we learned that the eaglet had died overnight. The internet had a meltdown.
Over ten thousand people had been watching this livestream, including entire classrooms of kids — and my first instinct was, everyone is way too fragile for this right now.
Everyone was speculating about the tiny bird body – where did it go? – so much that the rangers closed both the chat and the comments section on the website. I wondered if Jackie and Shadow ate the baby, or if they buried it — leading the rangers to delete the footage — I mean, this is nature after all, metal and savage.
Two days after the second eaglet died, the local news station did a morning and evening segment to calm everyone down. “It’s nature,” the nice ranger lady with the white hair said. “It’s beyond our understanding or control.”
The injured dove came by yesterday, a little tuft of feathers but no black twig protruding from his chest. This morning, the tuft of feathers was replaced by a little red squiggle. He sits in the middle of the feeder as he normally does. I see him and his date as I type this. Please don’t fly into the window, I think. We’re still way too fragile for this.