The life of a sparrow is precarious, yet this diminutive, adorable member of the avian tribe has sufficient stage presence to have been immortalized by the immortal Bard.
Shakespeare liked birds.
There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow Hamlet tells us at the play's penultimate moment of dramatic action.
A lone sparrow signifying meaningful, life events? How could this be?
Hamlet explains in the next line, in this greatest of all philosophical meanderings in five acts: everything is interrelated and ineluctable- If it be now, 'tis not to come. If it be not to come, it will be now. If it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all.
The readiness is all, what a fantastic thought; everything connected in every single aspect and movement of our existences, with timing the essential ingredient for taking action, for reaching fulfilment of our destinies! The path leads us, just follow. This is the kind of stuff self-actualizers and new age messiahs exploit and make their fortunes on, as they tell us in three easy lessons or so to stop pussyfooting around, get in touch, and live our lives 'cause the clock is ticking. Shakespeare philosophizes, analyzes and poetically memorializes these important universal truths for the ages.
I'm watching a sparrow go for a miniscule morsel of croissant on the pavement as I have my coffee outside. Why imbue so much significance to such a little, winged creature and its essential role in the unfolding of the melancholy Hamlet's fate, and ours?
Simply put, everything counts. Every action and reaction mirrors and plays a part in our journeys, no matter how insignificant. The final destiny being mortality, it's best to act now on whatever fate has in store for you, and play the hand you've been dealt to the fullest. You play it, all the while knowing we all must walk through the state of being while living in the shadow with our knowledge of our mortality, those nice, comforting images of pretty still waters and green pastures notwithstanding. Existence is temporary, unpredictable. Therefore, embrace your life, and your fate!
The sparrow of course knows nothing of any of this as it hops about my chair while I sit in a cafe dispensing tiny dots of croissants almost as small as atoms to this little mendicant, who hopefully if fretfully is checking out the territory. If the bird could sip your decaf cappuccino in some manner, it would gladly do that too. It's survival by tiny offerings of breakfast muffins.
The cafe is typical, an iconic mix of New Yorkers clustered around a few small tables on the sidewalk, trying to forget about the pandemic and the world and the weather and all our losses, young, old, intense, relaxed, hopeful, alert, calm, neurotic, sad, whole generations of A to Zee-ers, lone breakfasters, many glued to laptops and phones. It's also the land of opportunity for a tree full of sparrows shading the small tables, a magical place wherein the streets are paved with gold crumbs from every imaginable, pastry worth chirping about.
I think about the life of a sparrow and how shaky its time here really is, how it can change on a dime. For this miniature though cuter member of a former flock of dinosaurs, even the gift of flying is not enough to create a secure existence, free of anxiety. I mean, they're just so small and vulnerable, anyone can see that! Much like us in the great big universe of existence both visible and invisible, known and unknown, tentatively trying to make sure we don't collide with something much bigger and unhappier. The world and nature are indeed complex phenomena, full of disasters and miracles, and mysteries.
Claudius questioned if there was a method to Hamlet's madness, we question if there is one to our own, chaotic lives and moments of intense challenge in the face of our losses. If Einstein really was onto something in his final thoughts about intelligent design, I'm still not exactly sure how sparrows fit into the plan; however as I sit here tapping out my thoughts, the fliers just keep landing, cautiously, hopefully, exploring further in the quest. Everything in nature as we understand it through our limited senses is connected through a silver thread of simply being, continuing to be, having consciousness, whatever that may mean. More Mystery.
So put it all into your thinking caps, you questioning Hamlets and Ophelias of the ever evolving human condition, because the other characters in the play often do not appear to be addressing the question, of meaning that is. And much like that ill-fated, thinking, betrayed, couple in five acts, the universal grief at our own condition often may be enough to drive one mad. We "play" at being temporary, wandering guests at the inn of the world, while outside our cozy nests a storm threatens to rage and occasionally makes good on that promise. But still we are told to keep on traveling.
At least for sparrows, pastry keeps them safely in the moment, for a split second.
