The Dead Dove

I woke up this morning to find a dead dove near my door and I couldn’t help but feel sad about it. I picked it up with a polythene paper bag and threw it into the fields. Immediately, some blue and yellow birds began circling over it. They would fly over it, pause in mid-flight and then proceed on. It’s like they were mourning for it, paying their respects. Either that or they were realizing that it’s a dead bird and they don’t eat those. These are the cycles we go through in life; birth, death and everything in between. These cycles remind me of a conversation I had with my brother yesterday and he was pointing out that he has noticed that people go through cycles of depression. These cyclical bouts of depression are like a hereditary curse that gets passed on from parents to their children. They (the cycles) in a way become trans-generational. Yes, there are times when we are up and other times when we are down, but could this be true? Just like the dove that was up in the air one minute and down on the ground the next. And if these cycles affect us, how can we avoid them, and if that’s not possible, how can we survive through them without succumbing to their numbing powers?