[Marianne]

Hi savemysoul, I love your story of trying to save the little bird! You described it and what you were feeling so well I felt like I was there with you. I can feel your sadness and disappointment that the little bird did not live long enough to get it to the vet to possibly save it. I love your story in that it shows the empathy and tenderness for the lives of living creatures and the whole cycle of birth and death. And then like you are questioning at the end how we all wonder about rebirth (beyond that of the seasons which is more seemingly impersonal to us as humans living our lives than the here and now of the individual lives we humans and all the creatures around us are living. I would like to share a couple stories with you too about trying to save baby birds, one from my own childhood and another story from my daughter’childhood and hope to do that soon. But here for now I will try to answer the wonderful question you asked me about how I felt when looking/gazing at the mummy.

It is hard to describe how I felt back then, but the first thing I noticed was the incredible beauty of the sarcaphagus. I probably should have mentioned I didn’t see the actual mummy or mummified body at the museum–I had seen illustrations in books of mummies though. The sarcaphagus with so artful with all its golden and blue and coral colors and the black lines accents of the eyes and the decor on it, plus it was large and seemed larger-than-life itself. I was awe-struck with the brilliance and the art. I did wonder moments later about the body inside, and I marveled that there was a body once alive in there. I grew up attending a Catholic school so I was used to seeing the statues with the glowing eyes in the hallways at every turn as if the statues of the saints were somehow alive and their eyes always watching or following you (meaning the general you as in me or you), so i perceived it much as I perceived the statues of the saints in the Catholic school–like statues almost alive or alive in some sense in that they seemed to still possess “soul.” In that sense, I perceived it as mystical and in its own way rather magical of some sort. I felt so in awe of it that it was as if it were almost some kind of miracle that I was able to be there seeing it. It had a stately appearance, as if in all its beauty it was so beautiful that it was also solemn, and in that sense, sacred, then. So very still. I do remember wanting to speak with it somehow, wishing I could ask it questions. I do feel like I was hoping to try to identify with it somehow as to how it felt to know the “:secrets” of eternity! The longer I stood there, I think (if I recall correctly–or perhaps I am editing in later details of my own personal myth!), the more I wondered about the mysteries of death that might be answered by the ancient Egyptians. Thank you for asking! It was fun to think back into what I was feeling! I kind of feel put back on a track now, like a life-track, after posting this and reading the responses. It does kind of tell me a lot about what my personal myth has been about and still is. Like everyone else, I suppose, I do wish I knew all the mysteries and “secrets” about death. It is sad but it does loom larger than life and in that way is amazing. But most of all, I felt the beauty of the art. The art of living? The art of dying? The art of the ancient Egyptians who made such things so beautiful with the craft of paint and dyes?

I have been to the Cleveland Museum of Art a couple times in the past couple years, and again was drawn to the Amazing Mummy Room! I had my photo taken in front of an open and empty sargaphagus! As if to say I survived all I have survivved at this point, and look, it (I) live! lol! I will have to review how to post/include pics in this forum! I am not very high tech, but will try to decipher the mysterious mummmy code!

I can also ask you if there are birds around where you live now or have you ever wanted a bird? What type of bird was it, or colors? What are your favorite birds? I love herons, ducks, and I love wild canaries (had a big dream of one once) and love the folklore of “the bluebird of happiness.”

I think one thing I felt when seeing dead baby birds on the forest ground was also helplessness. Like you trying to save the bird but being helpless in the larger face of time. You and your story made me think of that, of “helplessness.”

Nice meeting you and hearing your story!
Mary Ann