Sorry for my absence of 17 days. My world is just full of stuff (for lack of a better word right now). Haha.
I've just finished three weeks of shows; seven all up in the mean time.
I've been studying my ass off and meeting deadlines (I'm so proud, no extensions!)
Aaaaaand, I am also in the both fortunate and unfortunate position of being courted by two young gentleman.
Busy life, I know!
I figured I'd update, and leave you with a piece of my writing from the archives -
A textual intervention piece I recently just completed for my Professional and Creative Communications class. I essentially extended one of Aesop's fables - The Labourer and the Nightingale and added another bird - The Mockingbird!
Until next time,
♥
Drawing by Aneta
The Labourer, the Nightingale and the Mockingbird.
A LABOURER lay listening to a Nightingale’s song throughout the summer night. So pleased was he with it that the next night he set a trap for it and captured it. “Now that I have caught thee,” he cried, “thou shalt always sing to me.”
“We Nightingales never sing in a cage,” said the bird.
“Then I’ll eat thee,” said the Labourer. “I have always heard say that nightingale on toast is a dainty morsel.”
“Nay kill me not,” said the Nightingale; “but let me free, and I’ll tell thee three things far better worth than my poor body.” The Labourer let him loose, and he flew up to a branch of a tree and said: “Never believe a captive’s promise; that’s one thing. Then again: Keep what you have. And third piece of advice is: Sorrow not over what is lost forever.” Then the song bird flew away.
And flew he did through deep green valleys and over hills covered in meadows of wildflowers, past the outskirts of a village - all in search of a hiding place suitable for his cover. As the bird flew, he stopped to think about how overwhelmed with joy he was about tricking the labourer. “Thou art free,” he cried. “Thou art free!”
The bird eventually reached the outskirts of a forest, not far from a village. He sought his refuge in the thickest and greenest trees he could find. The Nightingale had heard of these trees; they were the safest of them all. However, the nightingale was almost too afraid to sing again. He didn’t want to be taken by another person passing by, just because he had a beautiful song. The nightingale eventually plucked up the courage and sang a little tune. It didn’t take very long however, for the nightingale to realise that he wasn’t alone – for above him he heard his tune repeated back to him!
“Who goes there?” the Nightingale yelled. The only response came from the wind, ruffling the leaves and swaying the tree. The Nightingale stopped worrying and continued to sing.
Soon enough, the tune was repeated back to him. The Nightingale noticed that this voice wasn’t as sweet as his. It was somewhat shrill, but still the same. “Why must you mock me so?” spoke the Nightingale. “Thy voice is but all I have and you are trying to take it from me.”Sorrowfully, the Nightingale dropped his head and stopped singing.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, another bird flew down next to him. “Hello there, Nightingale. Why are you so sad?” The Nightingale slowly lifted his head and turned to the bird. “I am a Nightingale and all I have is my song. Yet it seems there is someone trying to steal it from me.”
The bird replied, “Surely you should be proud that your song is beloved by everyone, Nightingale. It is such a beautiful song.”
The Nightingale sat up hopefully. The bird continued, “Has there ever been a time, where someone has shown an appreciation for thy gift?”
“Yes there has,” replied the Nightingale. “Just before, I was captured by a labourer. He was going to keep me caged so I could sing for him and only him. And if I didn’t sing to him, he was going to eat me. So, I escaped and now here I am.”
In resolve, the Nightingale decided to forget his problems for a moment and turned to the bird. “What is thy name? What kind of bird are you?”
“I fear that if I reveal my identity, you will not like me anymore,” spoke the bird, sadly.
The Nightingale decided to show the same kindness to the bird that the bird had shown to him. “One should never be ashamed of who they are. We all have a purpose in life. I sing. What do you do?”
The Mockingbird looked over to the Nightingale shamefully and said, “I am a Mockingbird and it was I who was copying you. I am so sorry. It is who I am. I mimic the sounds around me, for I have no talent of my own.”
The Nightingale thought momentarily and then spoke, “If this is who you are, you should be proud of yourself too. Maybe, we can stick together and I’ll teach you how to sing just like me.”
The Mockingbird was relieved and happy to have been accepted. “Perhaps true talent is not just found in what you do, but how you do it.” The Nightingale agreed and decided to be more sharing of his gift.
After he taught the Mockingbird how to sing, they flew back to where the Labourer lived. The Mockingbird sang for him, and the Labourer came out to see who belonged to the beautiful voice.
They greeted each other, and the Mockingbird happily gave his services to the Labourer as he had been the only person to truly appreciate his voice.
From then on, the Nightingale shared his gift with all he could find, for although he could not bring himself to sing whilst held in captivity, he knew there were others who wished they could.
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