Just the other day…
A loud thud on the ground ensued after a pigeon had tried to fly through a first story window.
“Do you think pigeons only fly into a glass window once,” A friend asked as we were spray-painting ‘freedom’ on the back of a dumpster nearby.
“The smart ones don’t, but I guess the dead ones don’t either,” I replied.
He considered this for a moment, “Would you fly into a glass window again?”
Puzzled, I looked over to him, “Of course I wou–your ‘O’ is a little egg-shaped.”
“Oh.” He began to edge his letter as he asked, “okay, so you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice?”
I stood still for a moment, keeping my eyes on my half of the word’s paint job. “I guess it all depends on your perspective.”
“What do you mean,” he asked. I sat the can down and pondered.
“I guess thinking about it now; I may fly into it again if I were a pigeon. If you think about it, what are humans but bigger, more stupid animals?”
“What do you mean,” he asked as a cop pulled around the corner.
“My point is, how many times do you think it takes us to learn the lesson that’s equivalent to that of a pigeon and the window? It shouldn’t seem like such a difficult thing when you get down to it, but, then again, so many people make the same mistakes over and over again until they can’t make the same mistakes anymore.”
“Why do you think people keep making the same mistakes, knowing what it can do to them in the end,” he asked while being handcuffed by the officer.
“I can answer that,” said the officer. ” People are just stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” I said after a long pause.
“Oh yeah, why do you think people do dumb things then,” the officer asked while fingerprinting us.
“Hmm, I guess at the end of the day, some people may truly be stupid, but that shouldn’t keep them in a loop of making the same mistakes over and over. It shouldn’t mean you’re stupid, either, if you willingly make the decisions that mess you up.”
“Why would someone willingly do something to put themselves in harm’s way,” My friend asked across the cell from mine, holding his cellmates ankles for incline push-ups.
“Hm, ignorance can be the only real explanation. Some people may want to just stay in the loop of chasing a fictitious dream and hoping they catch it one day, completely tunnel-visioned with addiction to the thrill.”
“So, you’re telling me that this pigeon doesn’t want to cope with the fact that he could be wrong in his pursuit of happiness, and because of his prideful nature, he doesn’t see the error of his ways? Even though, under many circumstances, it’ll be the death of him in the end,” asked my friend’s cellmate, holding a brush dripping green paint and wearing a striped jump-suit.
“Actually, yeah, that’s exactly it. You see, we, as dumb animals, tend to let our emotional struggles get in the way of seeing a more appropriate cause rather than a simple whimsical pursuit. In the end, we really just need to think about what we’ve done and ask ourselves if we really want to experience it over and over again until we’re dead. If not, we can explore ourselves and the world around us a little bit more before thinking the building we’re flying into is the only one left. Sure, we can try and fly into other buildings along the way, but I think as long as we don’t get stuck on the same one and continue to fly into it over and over again, we’ll be okay.”
A thud was heard on the ground again. The three of us peered over the dumpster lid.
“Was that the same one from yesterday,” my friend asked.
“Nope,” I replied. “I’m pretty sure that one just crapped on the cop’s shoulder.