“If this potential is true for me, then it must be true for others as well,” The Magpie considered deeply, then continued. “Then, other birds who see me must be performing, whether consciously or not. And if that is true, then when we see each other, we are simply watching each other acting out our representations of ourselves.” He suddenly felt dizzy; this was a lot for one bird to realize. He wondered, “Do others realize this as well? If so why has no one told me?” The Magpie stood for a while in front of the mirror, thinking.
The bird was actually trying not to think, but his mind kept racing and a new idea came to his bird brain. “If the social space where we interact in life is performed, then it, like my identity, isn’t predetermined either. It must also be a space that is constantly in motion and transforming—like a series of movements in time and space, with constantly changing activity and shifts in status all caused by these performances of our representations.” The Magpie considered this idea further. “Then this space is a kind of dramatic reality punctuated by multiple performances of various kinds. Here, our performances help build and create our reality. And we engage with each other like scenes in a play. We are surrounded by moments that are constructed through the exchange of dramatic actions and counteractions.”
“This is getting silly,” The Magpie thought. “What kind of ideas are these? Do others think this way? And if they think this way, does this realization change them?” Initially, when the bird looked in the mirror, he was just curious, and wanted to investigate the movement there. He didn’t anticipate the realizations that had occurred. He didn’t expect to go off on some kind of philosophical reverie about self and society. He shook his head and thought, “If magpies can think this way, why do we all act the same? Maybe we have rehearsed our performances and our actions and have passed them down. These actions are taught to us and we practice them over and over again like actors. Through
repetition, they begin to appear more natural and seamless. Our life then emulates the stage. It is as much an imitation of art as the reverse.”
The Magpie returned to his image in the mirror. Sticking with the theater metaphor he thought, “If like improvisation on the stage, my performance causes the others to adapt and change their performance, then our performances cause others to act and react. So, my personal experience is not only structured by others, but effects and structures others in turn. Well, then, my personal self has implicit political agency. Our personal/private self and our public selves are part of the same being, not nearly as separate as they are made to seem. My private self has action inasmuch as it is conditioned by shared social structures.”
The Magpie smiled a huge smile, as it suddenly felt very powerful. It thought about the many things it and other magpies had produced with their actions that had transformed their environment, like their magnificent nests—hundreds spread from tree to tree like aerial beehive-shaped beaver dens so much more majestic than the nests of other birds—or the way they call back and forth to each other across great distances; the meetings that they hold in public standing in a circle to discuss a death or a threat; or the way they play, fool around, and play tricks on each other. And the simple things he did everyday: the way he held his head when he walked, or the specific way he floated down from a tree to the ground, gracefully touching his tail to the earth at the end; even the way he posed when he knew others were watching him. He realized all these things had effects and repercussions.
The Magpie took a step or two back from its mirror image. He flapped its wings, bobbed his head, and walked to the left and right; with each wing flap, each bob of his head, and each step, he could almost see ripples course through the surrounding environment. The bird looked long and hard at itself and thought resolutely, “Behold…now I am somebody!”
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