Whew, I cannot believe the "ego epidemic" taking place online. I've been caught up in it myself...and have chosen to back off. The result? Happiness! And guess what else? It has not led to poverty or lack of business or the respect of my colleagues.
When everyone is a reporter, publisher, blogger, has their own radio, TV station, film studio and ways to track how many friends and Klout they have, it is easy to see how this has happened.
To my fellow PR practitioners and professional friends, let's all take a deep breath and realize that the universe will continue to affect our lives, regardless of our online popularity or power. Step back a bit. Big ego can lead to big pain. Dismantle it. You might be surprised how much easier life starts to flow.
If you like symbolism to drive a point home, read this set-up and poem I wrote from my own outdoor observation. You CAN take a moment to rest and ponder. And if this post appears egotistical, please accept my apologies.
Several springs ago, my husband and I noticed a bird in our yard that couldn’t move very well. A tiny sparrow was feeding on the ground and there are cats in the neighborhood. I wandered after him/her and she was able to fly as high as a bush. She even jumped onto my fingers and greeted me for a moment. She was there throughout the spring and I observed her closely. She was a survivor. She fed off the ground. When the wind would blow and the rain came down, she would cover her face with one wing and hold on tight. Sometimes she was so weak, she would simply fly to the ground where she didn’t have to balance, and would rest and sometimes shake in exhaustion. I watched her heavy breathing and knew that she was close to dying or had a wing injury. I didn’t expect to see her for long but she survived two seasons. She didn’t return last spring.
Last year, I sat on the porch a lot, watched the birds and I wrote this poem…which has heavy symbolism about the quality of humility. Thought you’d enjoy it, and the photos of One Wing, my nickname for that darling little sparrow.
A Finch Who Bows
Such haughty green finches.
You dine at my feeder,
in so much arrogance,
hurling seeds to the ground
in gluttonous glee.
There will always be more.
I kowtow to beauty,
permit the wasteful sin.
beneath my empty
fast-food-hut for the feathered,
I glanced below
at seeds in mushy mud,
and there, just one of you,
one who has realized
it can bow its head,
flourish in dirt
as others flash and fly away.
the wasted seed
as others starve in heavenly trees.
Pride aside as he picks between mud and stone.
The greatest feast is his, alone.