October 3, 2022
Greetings from the question,
Some time ago I shared with you the idea that the purpose of the universe is to be noticed. That all of this beauty and pain and growth and death exists, from the big bang until now, in the expectation that somehow, someone would witness it.
We don’t have to consider this seriously, or give up our faith, or try to prove or disprove the idea of it. It is simply an idea, not a poor one, in my view, that suggests creation has been unfolding all this time primarily so that we may see it. And we were not here to see it, if it failed in its purpose, would it exist? If a tree falls…
Occasionally, in moments of dramatic and inspirational experience, I become convinced of this idea. And then there are other, smaller moments like I found yesterday. I meant to keep this to myself but for whatever reason, it won’t be resisted.
Yesterday I went for a run, which I have come to believe is my part in the purpose of the universe and its work. It feels like my role is to pay attention. I recognize that not all of you can notice every day, there are lots of important things going on, what with the midterms and wars and the soaring price of AAA batteries. So, I will carry that burden. If we meet for coffee, we don’t have to talk about it.
Anyway, I was running. It was a gorgeous day, a gift that Summer left for Autumn to open. I ran along the river, a favorite place to meander while running. The trees, wearing the first of fall fashion, were admiring themselves on the river’s glistening surface. It was a morning of inspirational beauty that made me grateful and inspired.
And that’s when I came upon a chicken.
She was standing still just off the path. She had white feathers, but she was wet, so they seemed dingy gray. Her little feet were sandy colored, set firmly in the short grass, and she wore a ruby-red comb and matching wattle, which showed off her beak nicely.
I was so surprised I had to stop and look at her, and I suppose let her look at me. In spite of her bedraggled appearance, she seemed like she was calm, content to be standing where she was as if she were waiting for a bus.
I stopped, because how could you not? I said good morning, inquired how she was. I didn’t think her rude, but she didn’t respond. So I wished her a good day and ran on, delighted at the moment.
This path follows the river and makes its way into a large park. It is surrounded by forest, filled with all manner of birds. It is usual, and still remarkable, that I will encounter deer, herons or muskrat or ducks, or the occasional wandering dog. But a chicken? Never in my significant history of running.
When I came back up the river, some miles later, the chicken was in the middle of the path. As I ran up, I expected she would scurry away, but she stood there, practically ignoring me. I stopped again and addressed her, and she maintained a dignified silence. Not so much as a cluck.
As I ran toward home, I wondered what possible combination of events culminated in a chicken on that path. Kidnapping? A sudden urge to migrate? A romantic rendezvous? Did the chicken swim there?
There is the rather shallow philosophical question that comes up, probably not in your day, but here it was in mine, in full force. Wondering about the motivation of the chicken, specifically relevant to crossing the road. My road, particularly.
It is possible that the chicken is a part of the unfolding of the universe, partnering in the greater purpose, which is to be witnessed. Whether the chicken or the egg came first, the reason for its journey may be tied to the reason for all of our journeys. So, it may be we have finally answered the question.
The chicken crossed the road to be noticed.
Hope this finds you befowled,
David
Copyright © 2022 David Smith
Comments