I am in love. This is no secret. In fact, now, it's as loud as Stravinsky talking to Patrick White over a bottle of red. That my lover is beautiful is not hidden from anyone either. She has rare gifts like X-ray perceptiveness, world class musicality and a keen intelligence that can cleave body from mind and put them back together again. She can also make the best espressos in the whole wide world on a shiny machine she works like a steam engine. And this, of course, is just the beginning.Being in her presence I feel whole. I am joyful. Lucky, I know. And when I part from her? Well, that's when it gets really interesting.
You see the universe seems to support this partnership. Kindness and true love are blessed by the gods, it seems. So they have sent me a messenger, of sorts. A reminder, if you will. Because quite frankly, sometimes I have trouble keeping the faith. At these moments, I look toward the burning sun that is keeping me warm and filling me with light and I wonder why the Willie Wagtail is dancing about my feet. I wonder when the rain will come. But now in these times of melancholy, of sudden darkness comes illumination.Yep, the Sulphur Crested Cockatoo arrives.One of the first times this happens is in Sydney. After watching my lover perform at Angel Place and hearing the most beautiful music and loving her for days and nights, we have to separate. I say goodbye to her and her instrument at the airport. On the train journey back to the hotel, I stop at Circular Quay. I walk to the Botanical Gardens where suddenly I feel incredibly sad. Hmm. What will happen in the future? I think. How will this work? And, I look across the road and there they are. Two cockatoos roadside. I smile and walk toward them. I watch them as they eat and play comfortably together. For some reason, I get the feeling that they have been together, forever. Cockatoos, I have read, can live up to eighty years in captivity and do indeed partner for life. So, my impression is highly likely, right.On another occasion, I climb onto the shuttle bus at the Melbourne Airport after leaving my lover. The sky is grey and there seems to be concrete and asphalt everywhere. Why am I here? I think. I look across toward the car park that rises up like a rectangular mountain. I feel lonely. And, then I see the movement of white wings. Uh huh. Again, the cockatoos. Flying toward me from the cliff face of the car park are a pair of them. You're kidding, I think. Then, grin. I understand what they mean.
Everything is going to be alright.
The message of the cockatoo comes like a burst of light. Like a booster. One that charges me, propelling me forward on my journey, reminding me that I am loved. But on this night it is different. I am walking home from work and in the distance, in the darkness, I hear the sulphur crested cockatoo. I have never heard a cockatoo call at night before. Have you? I look up toward the hilltop, try to pinpoint her position in the darkness. She is really calling. In my heart, I know her message. My lover wants to talk with me. This is what I hear, this is what I know.
I don't own a mobile and long distance calls aren't on my dance card either but on this night I take in the cockatoo's message. I check in with my lover. Yep, she does indeed want to speak with me. At the time the cockatoo called, she wanted to ring me but resisted because she didn't want to alarm me. She had heard some bad news that had awoken a fear. One to do with thieves. One arising from an experience I had shared with her. Men breaking into homes in the night can do that, trust me. We communicate our love, our concern and before I sleep I thank the Night Cockatoo.
My lover and I are both warriors of sorts. Alive to the moment, courageous. And, usually when we part we do so bravely, strongly and lovingly but on this afternoon we feel sad. It will be a while until we see one another again. And, while I am driving home before taking her to the station, I say we need a cockatoo to cheer us up. Oh boy. Yes, I kid you not. Right beside the wheel of my car, roadside, on the gutter, appears a beautiful, sulphur crested cockatoo. I am now, speechless. I have driven along this main busy suburban road a thousand times in my life ...maybe more and I have never, ever, seen a cockatoo. Let alone one perched on the concrete as if she is waiting for a taxi. We stop, wind down the windows and talk with her. And, laugh for the rest of our time together.
Scientists would have a field day with me, I know. Words like coincidence and statistics would reach my ears, bounce about. And, in turn, my ears, would close like wings. I would smile like Mona Lisa while other words like rational and logic float about me. There is no way to explain mystery, I would say and watch them walk away. Shaking their heads and raising their hands to the gods in exasperation.
I would call after them, tell them about last weekend.
It is late in the day, early evening, in fact and I have just run a workshop and returned home. Here, in my small apartment with its beautiful garden, I yearn for my lover, deeply. Sadly. And, this is when I hear the cockatoo cry. I walk to the back door and see her appear in the sky, watch her fly toward me, glide about overhead, circling me in the dying light, in a soft breeze. My ribcage floods with light. I am now a believer.