Down

Crow calls caws and implores, perched atop a building, high up and repeating the call, a call to arms or wings? In the human umwelt these spaces are usually reserved for those with harnesses and safety instructions, to deny gravity’s desire to pull them plummeting downwards, not flying but rather, dying. As various philosophers and writers have long theorised and fantasised about the deep-down tunnels and tracks of chthonic critters, legends and myths of myriad ‘underworlds’, conspiracy theorists and writers alike obsessing over the centre of the world, numerous religious ideologies cast in the fear of eternal damnation in the underworld fires of hell, and – of course - amidst the innumerable oil and gas conglomerates desiring to drill down, we are a society obsessed with downwards motions, looking down, feeling down. Moreover, we are entrenched in media, social or otherwise, which doesn’t let you forget for a second the horrific impact you’re having on the planet –

“ – just buy our set of metal straws and you, yourself can single-handedly save the turtles, don’t worry about the meat on your plate or the amount that you’re throwing in the bin, and certainly don’t worry about how much carbon goes into making these products, just pay us and momentarily relieve your guilt – ”

– which feeds a bottomless ‘doom-scrolling’, a falling deeper down - creating embodied, subconscious frameworks of doom-thinking, making you want to stick your head in the ground, crawl in a hole, or various other embodied downward retreats.

 

“While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.”

 

CAW!

 

Of course, crows do not come knocking on doors -

only ravens do that

- but we can heed the call, the caw, which can be heard in various habitats from various gloomy bedrooms.