By Kara Ammon
I was flipping through artwork on my friend’s Etsy site when one item caught my attention. It was a bird sitting on a wire glazed and fired onto a thin, round, clay pendant. Clean, stark, provocative. How does the song go? “Like a bird on a wire, like a drunk in a midnight choir I have tried in my way to be free.” But that was not really true, was it? At least, it wasn’t true then, when the image of the bird was in front of me for the first time.
Have you ever noticed a bird on a wire high above the street? She is in the scene, but not part of it. I guess that was where I was at the time. One foot in my life and one foot out. How can you be fully present when you are working so hard to hold part of yourself back? Living a straight life and keeping a little distance so no one sees the bisexuality behind the curtain. Leonard Cohen’s bird on the wire was courageous. Mine was tepid and aloof.
I bought the pendant from my friend. Then I found a little bit of courage and had it tattooed onto my wrist, an ever present invitation to myself to be “all in.” I’ve been making my way down from the wire and into the whole-hearted midnight choir ever since.