Resting our feathers

Our canaries are singing this morning. They haven't sung for over a month. Their feathers have been scruffy and they've looked ruffled. And they haven't been singing. This morning, I watch them coming to life after a cycle of transformation. When they were weak, sat on their perches and waited. And then, suddenly, they have started to sing again. Several friends have recently finished their degrees. Some graduated with a Masters, a few have wrapped up doctorates. And they are tired. They're sitting on their perches with ruffled feathers. Worn out from the efforts, no matter how wonderful the learning has been. (I remember their exhaustion and the lack of creativity or vision from the year after my own graduation.) "What now?" they ask. "I'm waiting for the next thing but have no strength to pursue it yet." I look at the wisdom of the birds, who have sat still, hopped around gently, and eaten just enough to survive. I see how the plumage...