Reflections of a Bat Caved in

“Too in your cave you live,” she claims. Our thoughts there are one. 1

“Every day lights from the stream sparkle into our eyes.” As she drinks she is showered in sensual bliss.2

“The rains, rays, and stars themselves fall on and around us all the while we graze.” Under shine or night she enjoys her food.3

“I move from grounds to grounds among those of my kind, part of a whole. You…you fly out alone only to feed, and always return to the same dank hole.” She is whole and I am fragmented.4

“I, and others like me, feed on the abundant ever-growing greens, while you grow from the life of others. How very selfish of you.” They are sustained by perpetual life, and I by death.5

“I, like the rest of my kind, am to this world a valuable commodity. The very shirt off my back protects the whole of man. I serve my part in protecting the flock. What good are you for?” I serve none but myself, and have turned my back on my kind. 6

“Does anyone consider you a divine creature? I bet not.” My home remains unlit by the grace of the heavens. 7

How can one to another teach what to the self should be taught?8

Below me runs the stream—it’s where they get their drinks. She’d have to look up to the ceiling to see me crawl into the light, but she doesn’t. Without even looking she talks to me knowing I am there. I come forward anyway so that she might more easily hear my reply to her thoughts, but as if on cue, a horse trots in. 9

“Still here, Bat? Well, it’s nice to see you again.” I did not recognize this horse anymore more than I did the sheep, but I like horses much more. They care less about what I do or don’t do. “You should get out more. Do you think a muscled physique like mine can be had by staying inside all the time?” A chest like his would benefit the likes of myself. Still, I prefer my own company. 10

“We should go running sometime—” his eyes drew up to the ceiling and saw me, “or…you know, try.”11

“You see, Bat, the strength of man rides on the shoulders and backs of those like Horse here.” The horse embodies the essence of sweat and blood.12

“I don’t know,” the horse began, again. “I just think you could get out more.” I’m not as I could be.13

It’s funny how little things have changed. Names of things come and go, but beneath it all the ebb and flow of interaction always seems to float around the same point. 14

I came down to them. The sheep finally looked at me. 15

My awareness of this started when I was young. When I was learning. Back then choice could hardly be mine—I could hardly be mine. Winds in the world tugged at, and pulled me wherever they wished—I was helpless.16

I remember coming up to the most beautiful swan once. In my eyes she flew so high and was so graceful. She had such a soft complexion that she glowed. The world was hers and she sailed effortlessly through the events that came her way. One day I came down close to her as she swam in a lake and I tried to catch her attention.17

“Ek..ek…excuse me?” I was nervous. Too afraid of the water, I stayed back not wanting to fall in. Her inquisitive eyes turned towards me—there was no surprise in them, just curiosity.18

“Hi,” she said. Nothing more.19

“My name is Chirop. What is yours?”20

“I’m Cygna. What are you, Chirop?” She asked me a question! I remember being so happy she asked me a question. She turned around and swam in the other direction sticking close to the edge of the water. Though I was small and she was fast in the water, I still managed to keep up with her. I was never quick on the ground.21

“I’m a bat Cygna, what are you?” I was struggling over and around obstacles, but I felt this was going to work.22

“A swan,” she said. Nothing more. Then she started swimming towards the center of the lake.23

“Cygna!” I called out. My voice was always high pitched, and so it was hard for people to miss me when I called for them.24

“Yes Chirop?” she said swimming back to the edge of the water. 25

“Do you want to be friends?” That took more effort to say than anything I can remember.26

“Maybe,” she paused, “I’m not looking for friends though. Why?” I had no answer for this; well, not one that I could voice. She saw this in a heartbeat. “I think we are too different Chirop. You should find someone you’re more a match for.” And after that she started swimming away. 27

I was lost for words, but still desperate. I wanted to be whatever it took to get her attention—whatever it took to be more like her. That was when I saw swimming as the key. If I could master the water, she could surely fall for me then. I looked into my own wavering reflection and was terrified, but when I looked back at her swimming away nothing could stop me. I dove in. I used to think that was the first most important mistake of my life.28

I thrashed and choked about. I was drowning. My body wasn’t designed like hers. I couldn’t handle the water. Panicking I shouted, but the water flooded in every time I opened my mouth. It didn’t take long before my muscles tired, and I could no longer hear or smell much. All I saw was fragmented, dazzling light refracted through the surface of the water, now rising farther away from the grasp of my long bony fingers. Everything I had hoped for was about to be lost.29

Although I didn’t know it then, I was lucky. Cygna came back when she heard my calls for help and pulled me out of the water, leaving me at its edge again. I remember hearing her say something. “You should not try to be what you are not, deep down. It’s okay to be different because there is always someone, or a place for you somewhere.” Then silence. When I opened my eyes and called out looking for her, she was leaving the water and flying away. I was too weak to pursue her, and we never met again.30

So here I was, years apart from that experience, still being faced with those who would judge what I am. Some would act as if only those who followed the norm, or only the outgoing were worth knowing; they would act as if there was only one path to cut through this world. If there is one thing I learned, it is that these types are a part of life. Cygna’s words were well intentioned, but they still hurt…until now. Her words were hers to know, and I was hurt because they did not mirror what was true for me. I fell when I thought that all opinions could be shared. Now I know this doesn’t need to be. Now I know her words for myself.31

It was almost afternoon, and I was no longer used to being up this late. I rubbed the grog out of my eyes and finally spoke to the horse and the sheep. “You obviously like the way you are. Do you think that I could change you by coming up to you and offering descriptions of my superiority?” The sheep looked at me confused. It’s not used to me talking to it “Or even suggesting it?” I said turning to the horse, maybe harsher to him than I needed to be.32

“Sheep, you are always in change, but to you it’s all the same. I may be nearly blind, but how much of those lights from the stream do you really see? Or do they just sparkle into your eyes? 33

“Your food is all the same; it is so abundant that you’ve lost your appreciation, and you revel merely in the act of eating and drinking it. You gorge on the fact that you eat under the sun, rain, or stars but when was the last time you only felt each drop of rain, or just a minute of warmth, or even looked up and gazed at the constellations? 34

“So I eat by the life of others. I feel the life and death of all of those that sustain me, and remember where it came from. When was the last time you thought about the source of your food?35

“Horse,” I turned to face him now, “Few can deny the beauty of your form. But for its own sake, I do not want it for myself. Thank you for the offer, and I know many love to watch you gallop over here or there, but I do not like exercising in front of others. I take my exercise when others cannot see me, where my pace is self-set. I may not be as out going as you, and you’ve seen far more of this world than I, but we cannot all learn at the same stride or in the same step.”36

I turned away from them and began a climb back to my home above the stream. I spoke to both of them, or maybe neither. 37

“The world I see, I reconstruct indirectly, but I have seen great things come from the noises other people make. I may be largely blind to the lit universe, but I, through others, have seen more than what exists today. In me, the thoughts of others are revivified, and as you can see, all of this comes from within the walls of my home.”38

My best friend came out from down below. She’s a mole. “What’s going on, Chirop? The same old?” I didn’t say anything, but I rolled my eyes because it was true. “Let it go, if they’re not ready to hear.” She was right, but part of me always wants to try, and maybe always will, even when my words and thoughts fall onto deaf ears. Those like the sheep, and the horse live outside and are a part of the world of light, but I might say the cave they live in is their own skulls.39

I’ve heard of a time when, the Stream would have been called a “bar,” and bars could have been owned by anyone. There were many, and they had many different names. Now all we’ve got is “the stream.” 40

What are now “lakes,” we once called swimming pools. I don’t like pools much, but I would give anything to see a lake. Real roaring rapids, snow-peaked mountains, and subterranean crystal caverns—now, these are just names for what were once called “restrooms,” “air conditioner stores,” and “mirror shops.” We name things for those we no longer have.41

Back then we—my self, the swan, the horse, and the sheep—would have been called people. Yeah. That was when we still had wild animals. People’s differences were supposed to be equal back then. Or so I hear. Now, we deconstruct the human personality and attribute a kind of creature to every kind of individual. 42

I’ve seen the real things though! Horses, swans, lakes, and streams—I’ve seen what I can hardly dream of because I’ve listened to what others have said. It’s all been recreated in the space between my ears a million different times, and each from a new angle. In the end, I have come to see the world that was, that is, and that will be in the only way that I can. This is a way, I believe, that can never been seen the same way by another individual ever again. 43

I withdrew to my loft…I mean my cave above the stream for the day. As far as I can see neither the sheep, nor the horse, bothered me again.44