“Hello, dear Clown! How are you?”
“Hello, Shopkeeper! I am all a-twitter – I’ve decided I would love to buy a bird today!”
“How exciting! We have some lovely…”
“OH!” Said Clown, in awe, moving quickly towards the corner of the shop. “THIS is the one!”
The bird who had so immediately and completely captured Clown’s attention looked at Clown shyly from within an elegant copper cage, and Clown cried,
“Just look at that plumage! I have never seen such colours! This is indeed a unique and precious bird.”
As soon as Clown brought Bird home, Clown told Bird how beautiful Bird is, how rare and special.
“I can’t wait to hear you sing, Bird!
Oh, I can imagine your song so well – it will perfectly match the vibrance of your feathers, so strong and rich, and yet have such a sweet note that matches your gentle eyes!
We will travel the world and people will come from miles around, just to hear you sing!
I will make them laugh – and you will make them cry with the depth of your emotive melodies!”
As the days went by, Clown waited and waited – but Bird did not sing.
Clown started to do all Clown could think of to try to get Bird to sing. Clown encouraged and cajoled, praised and nurtured Bird, even tried silly antics to make Bird sing.
“Sing the song a songbird should, Bird!” Clown cried, desperately.
But still… silence.
Bird would simply look at Clown with bright black eyes, head occasionally tipped to one side, and then Bird would gaze dreamily out through the window, seeming to drift far away.
One evening, so distraught and exhausted was Clown with all the efforts to draw out Bird’s voice, Clown forgot to cover Bird’s cage for the night.
The following sunrise, Clown was roused from a deep sleep… What was that? A sound like nothing Clown had ever heard or imagined. It was enchanting and it spoke of things as yet unknown, and yet somehow already familiar…
Clown hopped lightly out of bed and followed the sound. It was coming from… oh! Bird’s room?!
Yes! The beautiful sound was Bird, singing soulfully and unreservedly with all Bird’s avian heart.
After several moments, Bird stopped and looked at Clown contentedly.
“Bird!” Clown said, wiping away a tear. “You are finally singing!”
And Bird said,
“Yes, Clown. For as long as I can remember, people have told Bird what they expect from Bird. They had their own idea about how Bird should or would sing. Bird did not wish to disappoint by singing a different song than the one they had in mind.
So Bird chose not to sing.
Last night, Bird gazed at the stars for a long, long time.
They were a reflection that did not instruct, tell, expect or ask, but instead simply shone their own beautiful glowing truth.
Left quietly alone with the stars, Bird finally heard Bird’s own song, and Bird sang because the song filled Bird’s heart.
And Bird realised that Bird is free.
Free to be Bird.”
