Tag Archives: flying

Feeling Fly

The end of summer is drawing near. I feel the smallest bits of change every day. Though it’s still hot late into the evenings, mornings stay cool a little longer, dawn breaks scant minutes later each day and the sun sets a little earlier.

With the gradual changes also come some acceptance. Events and projects I planned or hoped for most likely won’t happen this summer or this year. Next year. Fine. But for the first time in decades, I am actually feeling disappointment – emphasis on feeling.

I don’t know about most people. I know some people that grew up with abuse and violence learn how to cope with disappointment early. For me disappointment always seemed to be a lesser pain – one with fewer immediate repercussions. A slight from somebody here, plans are waylaid there, loved ones go away or move on – this is life. I learned to shove disappointment so easily, that I rarely noticed it as an adult.

For many years God and I have worked toward healing all that broke as I grew up. The biggest, most difficult part of the process is learning to feel in the moment. As I learn and heal the numbers of people I meet that share similar trouble – feeling their emotions shocks me.

I can report that now, after much prayer, work, studying, soul-searching; now that I am beginning to recognize my feelings earlier into the experience process, now what used to be easy is becoming remarkably hard. And now that I’m beginning to grasp the concept of feeling, I mostly recognize disappointment. And often when that happens, I also recall God’s words to Mackenzie from The Shack*

“Most birds were created to fly. Being grounded for them is a limitation within their ability to fly, not the other way around. You, on the other hand, were created to be loved. So for you to live as if you were unloved is a limitation, not the other way around. Living unloved is like clipping a bird’s wings and removing its ability to fly. Not something I want for you…  And if left unresolved for very long, you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place.*”

I also noticed how disappointment often becomes hope more quickly than any other feeling.  I not only believe I can live with this feeling, I’m beginning to wonder if maybe I really can fly!

“This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” 2 Corinthians 5:17 (NLT)

*(c) The Shack by William Paul Young, Chapter 6, A Piece of π, p. 97

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Filed under A Door Ajar

Nature Walk

Sitting in my courtyard, I bask in the warm sunlight.

2015-04-19 18.48.30

I hear something barely audible scratch the wall six feet away, level with my face. I turn to see a bright green gecko hurrying its way across the wall. Gecko stops and seems to be looking into my eyes.

Gecko’s bright vermilion throat balloons and then deflates. As I watch, Gecko spins around to face the walkway, and then strangely, it spins back around, stopping with its face pointing directly at me again.

Fully into the scene, I begin to very slowly stand. Gecko also maneuvers even more slowly, and stops to point toward the walkway again. As if waiting for me as I step toward the walk, Gecko shoots across the wall about 12 inches, stops and then spins back around to face me yet again.

I continue slowly forward toward Gecko. He turns toward the walk again and then darts forward too, turns around the corner of the wall and vanishes behind a shrub.

Certain Nature is leading me into a dance, I begin down the walk and onto the street.

While I enjoy deep, invigorating breaths, a crow screeches from where he floats on the air just above and before me. Crow circles around me and slows in front of me again, as if willfully drawing my attention. I don’t speak crow. Crow doesn’t speak English. So, in fun I stretch my arms out widely as I continue walking along behind and below him. Crow circles again and glides a few feet up and in front of me as if enjoying the game, I run, he flies above and ahead.

As we approach a trail leading into the park, Crow banks left and I leave the trail to run after him up a grassy slope. Crow screeches, circling around and then glides directly ahead of me again. Enraptured by the moment, my arms still out from my sides, I quicken my pace back down the slope after him. Crow seems to hover in front of me and then he shoots upward.

Still running while watching Crow rocket effortlessly, suddenly the ground disappears from beneath me too. I feel the air holding me and I imagine I feel exactly what Crow feels.

Sudden, abrupt ouch!
Icy cold!
Wet!
Confusion!
Pain shoots up my legs – my feet slide out from below me, my rear and my hands splash into water, both slamming across slimy rocks lining the creek bed! What the…???

Soaked, I look up at the lower side of the bridge a good seven feet above me to my right, and further where I’d run off the grassy ledge moments before.

“Silly human” Crow chuckles as he flaps away over the trees.

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Filed under Latent Poetic Tendencies