Gary,

That bird’s death was a very small point on a long timeline of events. Consider that instead of being alone and malnourished as it died, it was tenderly cared for, loved, fed and respected before it died. It had a good life, and no life seems long enough to those of us who love. Consider that you’re dwelling on your mistake, rather than the love you shared.

This is normal for the grieving process, and its fine to be sad. Just try to remember that it was your heart that made its last moments freedom and flight, rather than hunger and solitude. Perhaps you could honor how that bird came into your life by continuing on your journey where you give love and nourishment to other living beings.

With warmth,
Matt

Gary,

Its actually quite contrary to logic, which is perhaps why you reject it. The bird’s energy is far more than its one life, and the death was a very, very small point. Sometimes we cling to our pain, because we feel it is the only way to honor our friends or our loss. This is not the case. We do best to honor the lives of those we love when we remember the totality of their life and what they meant to us. To collapse their entire life’s meaning into one moment of loss is a far greater tragedy.

Namaste, and I wish you well tidings within your mourning.

With warmth,
Matt

Gary,

Consider that the nurturing you gave it was its extra time. Its normal for our faith to be shaken by painful events. The big picture doesn’t really help the pain, just the clinging.

The problem with answering your question directly is that it could push your view into nihilism or eternalism, neither of which are correct or helpful. The energy of the bird was like water, its body like a bucket. When the bucket ceases, the water rejoins the river… it is only when we fear that the bucket is the water that we fall into a view where there is a permanent loss upon death. The death of the bird was not its loss, it was yours. All of that hope and love you gave it is rebounding into your heart and mind producing confusion and pain. Namaste.

With warmth,
Matt

“I fed it”, “I cared for it”, “I taught it to fly”, “I killed it,” “I buried it,” “I dug with my bare hands”

You know what, to be honest, this sounds like a lot of ego and self-centeredness.

You are not the center of universe. You don’t give it life and you didn’t take it away. That bird had a will of it’s own and, through your guilt, you are disavowing that bird’s life and existence.

Part of acting out of goodwill and compassion means acknowledging that other beings (birds or people) are responsible for their own lives.

You’re not here to save the world. You can try to nurture, guide, care for, empathize, but the moment you cross the line into guilt for something that was completely not within your control (i.e. where the bird flies), you insult that bird’s free will and it’s right to go where it pleases.

You didn’t point a gun to the birds head and pull a trigger. This wasn’t premeditated murder.

If I was the bird, at first I’d tell you not to beat yourself up and forgive you because it was an accident.

But now, I’d tell you to drop it. Because really, it’s a little ego-centric to think that you have that much responsibility.