Late at night, I was walking the dog. It was cold, wet and inclement weather. February is coming to an end and spring is slowly coming in sight. I see the lights of the houses. The people are warm and cozy inside. Watching the TV or sitting down to read, get ready to go to bed or prepare for the next business day. In my thoughts I walk behind the dog. The dog doesn’t feel like going out with this weather. Honestly, neither do I, but it has to be. I’m dreaming ahead of myself. I walk deep in thoughts. Then my attention is drawn by the sound of a flight of flying geese. Geese heading for far-flung places.
I move my thoughts to the geese. Great to be able to look down through the eyes of the geese and see what towns and villages look like from their perspective. Nothing is noticing us as human beings. How we live, how we work. There is nothing to notice how we sit in our homes and what we think or do. I dream of distant shores and quiet beaches. Warm countries and quiet places. How relative our life is and how short. Too short to see what this earth will look like in thousands of years.
I fly with them to non-existent worlds, to non-existent societies. To be able to see the world through that animal’s eyes. To see how they see, feel or experience the world. To be able to fly around the world and land wherever you want. A sense of melancholy takes hold of me. I look up, but I obviously don’t see anything. It’s dark and foggy. Just the sound of those geese, who keep each other informed while calling. A leader first, the others next. It’s a wonderful thing that those animals have been able to adapt so much.
There were once fairy tales collected under the name of Mother the Goose and released by Charles Perrault. His collection of folk tales and fairy tales were published in 1683 under the name: Contes de ma mère l’Oye. There is even a suite for piano composed by Maurice Ravel in 1911.
What a goose doesn’t do with our imagination and creativity. A monogamous animal that stays with its injured species until it is better or has died. It’s remarkable that animals often possess more civilization than humans. As far as civilization is concerned, we still have much to learn from them.
Oh, how wonderful dreams are. I’m almost home with the dog. It’s gotten quieter on the street. Everyone, except for some late passers-by, is home. I pat the dog’s head. Open the door. The dog immediately lays down in his basket. I’m locking the door. Yes, now I can prepare to go to bed. Now I can dream, but I can’t. The geese will already be far away and keep spurring each other on.
I’m falling asleep. Time flees me by.
