Thankful that the caged bird sings

Today . . . I am thankful that the caged bird sings.

This may mean many things to many people. To mean, it brings me directly to a poem I wrote when my most amazing mother passed away. A set of lines from that tribute states:

She encouraged each of us to pursue our wildest dreams,
Never doubted our abilities, instead assisted in our schemes

I grew up in a house where using our imagination was occasionally our only avenue of entertainment. We did not have a lot of money and so we found alternate ways to have fun which included actually playing outside (what?), creating games, putting on plays and skits, going on constant adventures in the woods or across the tracks or by the river, playing music, and letting our fantasies run free.

As a result, many in my family are amazingly creative. Most of my brothers are carpenters/builders. That alone is a creative-man's field. We are poets, writers, musicians, idea people. We are not bound by things that are 'probable'. Rather, we exceed those boundaries by sheer and simple thought.

If one does not exercise their body, the body becomes flabby, shapeless, and ill. If one does not exercise their imagination . . . the outcome is the same.

Although I was not able to offer my children the incessant opportunities in music that I would have liked, I allowed them to wander wherever they chose in their creative realms. I am in awe of what a little freedom and possibility can produce. They amaze me . . . continuously!

The bird sings not because it is free to do so . . . it sings because it loves its song. No matter how you try to harness something, its real passions and productivity will come through in the end.

I am thankful that the caged bird sings. It's a beautiful song that the world would be robbed of if the captor got his way.

Sing!