Seeing Orioles makes my insides flutter. They look like they are on a mission from another planet. Perhaps, they are here to tell us that there is such a thing as too much yellow. Or that our ancestors weren’t primates; they were plants. And how silly it is that we move around so much instead of sitting still and reforesting our homes.
I bet it was something our ancestors had never bothered to listen to. It is probably why the Orioles gave up and turned into earthlings. Eat. Poop. Procreate. Sleep. Repeat. No more spilling of universal secrets through subliminal birdsongs.
I have seen three different sub-species. The Golden Oriole, the Black-Hooded Oriole, and the Black-Naped Oriole. They haven’t yet asked me to take them to our leader. Perhaps, they know how poorly governed we all are.
When I am not bird-watching, I indulge in people-watching. I am captivated by our nonverbal behavior. Gestures such as shoulder shrugs, head nods, and hand movements. They are significant parts of human interactions. Our inner whistle-blowers. They leak information about our personalities. Subconsciously, they present a more honest picture of who we are. Rather than sell the idea of the person we want to be.
Whenever emotions run high, in places such as airports, hospitals, and funeral halls, the body language of people is mesmeric. No matter how restless or torn they may be, their actions are always fluid. It’s as though they are acting out unfinished haikus. I am connected to them in an incongruous yet satisfying way.