The Feathers of the Soul

I have always admired wings and feathers.
I wanted to have both when I was younger. I probably still do, but haven't thought about it much lately.

I remember being upset when I learned that the balance between a bird's size and ability to lift its own weight in flight tips at about forty pounds. I was upset because I weighed something between 45 and 50 pounds when I learned this. If only I had read more about birds sooner. I could have used wings...

Birds heavier than 40 pounds, like albatrosses, must be content to glide, since they cannot sustain the sort of muscle mass necessary to flap that kind of bulk into the air - the needed energy intake is just not sustainable.
For a long time, in my head, I built gliders that would have adjustable tails and wingtips. I wanted something that could give me falcon capabilities.
I haven't thought about that for a long time either.

I think that swimming through air would be an incredible feeling, and am somehow not content to swim in water.
So I run and bike and ski/board and climb trees instead.


This is from The Conference of the Birds by Farid ud-Din Attar, translation by Afkham Darbandi and Dick Davis



One night a fool of God wept bitterly
And said: "The world, as far as I can see,
Is like a box, and we are locked inside,
Lost in the darkness of our sin and pride;
When death removes the lid we fly away-
If we have feathers - to eternal day,
But those who have no feathers must stay here,
Tormented in this box by pain and fear."
Give wings to aspiration; love the mind;
And if at death you'd leave this box behind,
Grow wings and feathers for the soul; if not,
Burn all your hopes, for you will die and rot.