Most people who know me know that I love animals, and at the moment we have two little cockatiels at home.

Birdie is not really my first bird, but she is the first bird that I managed to bond with. She loves sitting on me when I do things, writing, eating, walking around, doing business in the toilet, doing yoga. To me she has always been such a special bird…. so intelligent, so loving, so easy to understand.

And then the other day I came across these videos of wild cockatiels in their native home, Australia. And it strikes me that these animal usually live in such a big flock in the wild – whilst our flock is only four (including the two human members that is me and my husband). And somehow that really touched me, my little birdo, small, grey, and really not of anything special, could easily disappear and blend in has she been in a wild flock, yet somehow she has became this very special little thing to me, that I connected with without any logical explanation; that I love not quite the same way as I have loved my other pets. She, is my birdo.

And I thought to myself, in a way isn’t it the same with people?

With the 7 billion of us, as much as we like to think ourselves special, physically and genetically there really isn’t much of a special thing about us compare to our neighbour, compare to this guy on the other side of the planet. But it is through the crossing of our different paths, through the process of connecting with other people, that our being becomes significant.

And I thought of the people who I had crossed paths with, connected with before, and of those who I never cross the same path, or see, or connect with again. They still left an impact, and traces of past tangle in this big webbing of interconnectivity in my being. And we may never know if our paths cross again. And that in itself, is nothing short of a miracle.

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