Expecting To Fly
There you stood on the edge of your feather, expecting to fly …
~ Neil Young
As I wait with great anticipation for the next grand phase of life to fully fledge, I am drawn inexplicably to large windows overlooking the vast Pacific. Almost as if pulled along by some gossamer thread – then standing, stock-still, gazing down at a small cluster of yellow and green:
I’ve heard these babies screaming in their nest to the east, but this morning, they have clearly moved on. Gripping tightly to the Texas ranger’s brittle limbs, they gather close – huddle in tight as Easter peeps in cellophane. One tucks its head back into the warmth of a downy soft wing while two siblings remain facing forward. The wind is fierce today, sweeping the bodies of small saplings into uttanasana. Why Mother Nature telegraphs “fly” to these tiny creatures in such circumstances remains one of life’s great mysteries. Yet even as my mind ponders miracles, here comes the mother bird – feathers ruffling in the gusts – prodding her offspring with an insistent beak to get on with it, while tucking the odd morsel into waiting mouths.
Perhaps it is with all beings, not solely us humans, to flock to the safety of the familiar.
I marvel at the wisdom of creatures – the inherent intelligence that inspires each purposeful movement. If humans were nearly as frugal – conserving our energies for only what is essential – we would all live well and happily into our hundreds.
But it is a useless fascination – we are each and all endowed with the drive to break through self imposed limitations – unique motivations in this Universal dance of life.