by Fionn Zarubica
Has anyone ever noticed the swallows that fly over Belgrade? Every day I watch them from my 6th floor window, swooping, sailing, diving, playing their parts in an astonishing fugue.
So many Serbians I speak with feel that they have been abandoned by the universe, left vulnerable, to suffer with no succor. There is a feeling of hopelessness, and it is held in place by a defense against accepting that all is well.
The Serbian people have certainly experienced their share of difficulties, it has been a challenging path to navigate, but I believe we have been afforded a kind of grace by being given the opportunity to develop without the influences that beget homogeny. It is hard at times, but in the end it is the ultimate gift.
It is similar to the difference between the privileged child who never has to face his own challenges, and the less privileged child who has to go out and make his own way. Yes the way for the first is easier, but the outcome for the latter is greatness.
And then there are the birds.
The birds, their flight patterns never ceasing, never arbitrary, refined and perfect.
The birds, manifestations of the thoughts and prayers of the people below; reweaving and retooling the dialogue into a healing.
The birds, messengers of peace.
We have not been abandoned, we have been given the greatest of privileges, and that is to remain free and independent; to have the opportunity to rise up into ourselves and unite with who we truly are.
All the while, sheltered in our efforts by tireless helpers who weave for us a heavenly fabric of love and protection.
Look up sometime and see the birds. See the angels over Belgrade
Image: Bruno Ganz, Wings of Desire, a film by Wim Wenders