Indigo is calm in his convalescence, after being bullied by other roosters. He’s relieved to be in his cage, nibbling vervain seeds and other treats, as far as I can tell.
And something unexpected—he’s not lonely. The other roosters (his brothers) spend almost all of their time hanging out around his relaxed and shady retreat. They like to be nearby him, napping, clucking, snacking, preening feathers. We’ll re-integrate after making some changes that should reduce stress.
No bandwidth to do hyperverse this month, I’m afraid. Family matters require extra attention lately and I’ve given myself permission for less, on here. Anyone reading this, I wish you substantial moments of reprieve from the onslaught of bad news. And restful sleep.
I reaffirm my belief in the power of quiet voices, not least the quietest ones, the hard-won voices of the interior. Those voices can’t be silenced by armies or by algorithms. Their power is deeper than tyrants can fathom. The only hope that humanity possesses, not to destroy itself by its own cleverly-implemented appetites, remains in the quiet voices.
This is the paradox of democracy, and human politics writ large: that government by the loudest would never survive without a demos that could and would listen, deeply, to the quietest. No constitution could replace the primary need for education in a republic. Secondary pillars of liberalism crumble without it.
Children must be taught to listen; shouting only closes their hearts.
Assalamualaikum, selamat tilem, peace 🌑
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