20141106 (J)
Journal: Novemeber 6, 2014
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Joie de Vivre                                  Animal Souls

Crows: (in prose) I watched some crows this morning, playing in an early November bluster. Wave upon wave, now going east with the wind, now west against it. No sailor on any of the seven seas can tack so well as one of these. Now up, now down, now left then down. The flock passes over as flies north, another south, another east, but the flock drift to and fro. Some stall in the wind, remaining still to the trees for several flap and darts, then banks to the wind and soars while descending the slopes of the wind, 30 MPH faster than the 30 MPH wind. Then joining another, perhaps its mate, in synchronous dance, waving together till parting again. It seems so energetic, fighting of the wind, and seems so futile as a geese V does not. It is not hunting, I think, nor sexual except maybe showing off.

I suspect play is a play, and Jonathan Livingston Seagull desire had infected these playful crows. But perhaps I see play where no play occurs, projecting my wishes onto my senses. But corvid play is seems to me still.

I am reminded of my friend the raven, another corvid, from Canyonlands Island in the Sky road terminus. I always suspect he just preened, then looking straight at me, asked, “Aren’t I pretty?” or stated it. Perhaps he just said, “What, no food after that great show”. Either way he flew off without looking back.



                                                        Death                                              War
I just don’t get it, I guess. The other day while watching Joseph Campbell’s interview, a scene that showed throat slitting and gutting a pig. One woman shrieked a little in disgust and said she just couldn’t get over such “brutal” scenes, though the “tribal” people killed the pig for food. This same woman in another class expressed support for bombing of ISIS in Syria and Iraq. I just don’t get it, I guess.