Curiosity and a Canary: How Ordinary Events Become Extraordinary

The introduction to a book on Andre Gide and Curiosity begins like this: "In the autobiography of Andre Gide, the 15-year-old Andre is walking down a Paris street when he sees a canary flying toward him like the Holy Spirit. It lands on his head, designating him, he believes, as a writer."

The author describes how the young Andre is both curious regarding the canary, and simultaneously an object of the canary's curiosity. This statement from the book's description especially stood out for me: "Curiosity was a credo for Gide. By observing the world and then manifesting in writing these observations, he stimulates the curiosity of readers, conceived as virtual conduits of a curiosity once his own."

Reading these few lines brought several moments from my own life back into view, the first being that specific moment in time when I myself felt called to be a writer.

Other memories also came to mind of encounters with nature, or experiences in which I witnessed something unusual that seemed to have special significance for me. Like Gide's encounter with the canary, one of these involved an encounter with a fawn. The incident occurred in the fall of my junior year at Ohio University, 1973. I'd gone for a walk with my sketchbook as sunset approached, seeking a place to sit and draw. I found a quiet open space that overlooked a vast expanse to the west, hemmed on both sides forest, delightfully peaceful. I still remember the vivid colors of that red and gold sky, the swoop of the valley's architecture, the silhouettes of the trees as darkness approached.

Drawing, like any creative endeavor, becomes timeless when you've lost yourself in it, and on this occasion I must have been in the zone as it were, quietly absorbed in the moment. Suddenly I became aware of a young fawn that had evidently been creeping along the path, curious about this strange person sitting in her way. Her head bent forward below her shoulders, she kept approaching me, tentative and uncertain. Our eyes locked as I studied her face, each of us expectant, though she was no doubt more wary than relaxed.

Suddenly, two rifle shots echoed in the distance and my curious friend became alert but she didn't run. Eventually she sauntered back to the woods in the direction from which she came.

* * * *

I've been re-affirmed by the presence of a dove.

The incident must have made an impression on me because a couple years later I woke one morning with the first stanza of a poem tumbling and swirling in my head, along with the other images from this experience. The poem that I crafted became As A Young Fawn, I, a retelling of this incident from the point of view of the fawn.

During the night as I lay thinking about these things I was also reminded of the story of the Magi from the East written about in the Gospel according to Matthew in chapter 2. These priest sages who had been students of the heavens recognized a star of major significance and connected it with the birth of the anticipated Messiah spoken of by Jewish prophets. The Bible never says there were three, as the song "We Three Kings" suggests. It does, however, acknowledge a connection between nature and our human story, both individually and collectively. There are moments when something breaks through from Beyond that our modern scientific minds tend to dismiss, disregard, ignore.

Bringing this all full circle, the Magi were men whose mystical inclinations made them curious about the greater meaning of things. How they learned about this miraculous birth isn't explained in this passage, its historically documented that Israel's Northern Kingdom had been overthrown by Assyria circa 720 B.C. and the remaining Jews of the Southern Kingdom taken captive by the Babylonians circa 587 B.C. The Magi were undoubtedly familiar with, and curious about, the sacred texts of these peoples. Their arrival in search of the newborn child was no coincidence. 

Psalm 19 begins, "The heavens declare the glory of God." Open your mind. Sometimes a canary, or a dove, is more than just a bird.

Merry Christmas.

Northern Lights courtesy John Heino Photography.

The Dove and the Rainbow

"How many seas must a white dove sail before she sleeps in the sand?" ~Bob Dylan

Much has been written about Dylan's "Gospel Period" of 1979-81, but his utilization of Biblical concepts, language and imagery weaves throughout his 50+ years of songwriting.

His second album, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan opens with one of his most widely translated songs, Blowin' In The Wind, a song about timeless issues related to justice, and the longing for reconciliation and peace. The second line of the song is rooted in this passage from Genesis 8, which takes places after the great flood.

8 Then he sent out a dove to see if the water had receded from the surface of the ground. 9 But the dove could find nowhere to perch because there was water over all the surface of the earth; so it returned to Noah in the ark. He reached out his hand and took the dove and brought it back to himself in the ark. 10 He waited seven more days and again sent out the dove from the ark. 11 When the dove returned to him in the evening, there in its beak was a freshly plucked olive leaf! Then Noah knew that the water had receded from the earth. 12 He waited seven more days and sent the dove out again, but this time it did not return to him.

The dove had been sent forth but could find no place of rest... no home. He returned to the ark. But the next time it returned with an olive branch, which to this day has remained a symbol of peace. The next time this dove did not return. It had found another resting place.

In the sixth song on Freewheelin' Dylan borrows yet another image from this Genesis account.

"I met a young girl and she gave me a rainbow."

This line from "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall" is the only line in the song that speaks of hope. Every other line, about the things our narrator saw and heard, contains images of pain, sorrow, grief, hardship. "I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin'... I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken.... I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children..." And in the midst of this he meets a young girl (innocence) who gives him a rainbow.

It's an image rooted in that familiar post-flood passage of Genesis 9.

12 And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: 13 I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. 14 Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, 15 I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life. 16 Whenever the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and all living creatures of every kind on the earth.”

So this is my Christmas wish for you: May your heart, like the dove, find a safe resting place to call home and may every rainbow you see bring renewal and hope.

Merry Christmas!