"And death shall have no dominion…”
I stood in a small restaurant in the quiet Moroccan coastal town of Tafedna when what felt like a racing ghost swept over my shoulder, just barely skimming a few of my hairs and sending my gaze darting around the room. What in the world just moved past me? Then I saw it. A bird. A mother bird. She stood on a very old clay pot decorating the fireplace mantel at the end of the room with eyes fixed on me, completely unmoving and entirely focused. I then glanced to my left towards a pillar made of an ancient tree trunk. It had grown itself a perfect cradle for this mother’s babies; a hollow holding a downy bed of long hair comprised of the regions abundance - a mix of human and goat. Inside were held a few precious eggs. This collection of this moment - the aged tree, the mix of hair, the tiny eggs and the bird herself - felt entirely, passively holy.
The holy moment suddenly faded from my mind, replaced by a sharp anxiety. I feared that the server would notice what I had noticed. Did I just give this little family away? Would she hurt them? Where I live in the United States, I could only assume that a bird and her babes would not be permitted to live in any establishment, especially a restaurant. They would be removed and the space sanitized, for safety and legal purposes of course. A new set of eyes looked over towards me, then to the nest. The server with hair similar to mine walked over with a soft smile, and looked at the pillar. In my head I began preparing my case for the bird. My hope was hollow, as I assumed the chances of convincing a place such as this to overthrow the rules was slim. Her eyes traveled gracefully. She then smiled at the nest with the sweet nature of a child and gently said, "yes,” walking back to the kitchen with a languid gait. Perhaps she offered this short and simple response because of our difference in language. Or perhaps she said it because it was all that needed to be said.
The world I envision is not one of human oppression, but shared existence and honorable stewardship. For just a moment in Morocco, I felt such a world come to life.