I’d soar up like an eagle but I don’t have any wings

I have read that dreaming one can fly is a fairly common thing; I myself have had such dreams many times. They indicate a person’s general contentment with life and reflect an overall sense of happiness.

There is something about the a bird’s ability to fly that has intrigued humans for as long as we have looked up to the sky. There is, for one thing, the great ease with which many birds take to the air; Robins and Sparrows seem to take off with the greatest of ease and with nary a thought to their ability. Wouldn’t it be great to do something so wonderful so simply and quickly? Larger birds take a great deal more effort; watching a Heron lift off is an exercise in patience and determination; their wings are so long that you can practically feel the exertion as they air resists their flapping; their bodies, especially their folded necks, appear so ungainly that flight should be all but impossible; when they finally get up enough speed to clear the water and begin flying with more ease there is a sense of relief, joy and admiration when they have overcome their initial aerodynamic hurdles and taken to the air. It’s a wonder that something so ungainly at take-off can be so graceful once in flight.

Simply watching birds in the air is a sight to behold. A Hawk’s mastery of air currents allows them to glide easily and slowly as they seek out their prey. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to move with such ease and confidence? A flight of birds darting about in unison, rising and descending, twisting and turning, all in synchronized unity, all carefully, precisely, and safely spaced apart is a beautiful example of unity and cooperation. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could work together so silently and effectively? A swallow dive-bombing a hawk that is too near her nest is an incredible sight. It’s speed and manoeuvrability allow it to advance on its larger, slower moving nemesis with minimal risk, while its persistence and annoying determination often results in the Hawk seeking a hunting ground with less irritating denizens. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could take on the Hawks in our lives with a Swallow’s effectiveness? Crows in certain Chinese cities have very few trees from which to collect branches for making nests available to them. That’s not a problem; there are, apparently, lots and lots of coat-hangers to be found and those coat-hangers are every bit as useful in making nests as are plain old tree branches. The result is that these clever, resourceful creatures have simply adapted to their environment. It seems to make little difference to them that branches and twigs are few and far between as long as there are plenty of coat-hangers. Wouldn’t it be wonderful so be so adaptable and swift to change as the conditions around us change without our consent or input? A Seagull hovers in the air silently. With a gentle twist of its wings, with a simple turn of its head, it changes direction, seeking the best position to stay aloft in the breeze, or perhaps adjusting its course. It is peaceful and quiet, in perfect harmony in it’s aerial environment. It is, of course, comfortable on water and land as well, yet only when it is in the air, hovering easily or flapping gently, that is truly seems to be where it belongs, at total peace, at one with the air that both supports it and gives it life. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to find such peaceful, quiet, perfect belonging? It’s no wonder that we look to birds with admiration and a certain degree of reverence.

Alas, we have no wings; we have airplanes and helicopters and some folks even have personal jet packs, but they aren’t quite the same; they are not part of who an what we are; we can’t simply take flight on a whim by dint of our own labour; we need tools and resources that are noisy and bulky and never really a natural part of us. And so we look to the skies and wonder at what might be, dreaming of flying with ease and grace, of having the freedom to get away from it all, of finding relief from our inner turmoil and external struggles, of having the power and will of taking command of our situation and soaring above limits both self and externally imposed. I’d soar up like an eagle but I don’t have any wings.

But I have an imagination; I have skills; I have gifts. We look around and say, “If only” but fail to look in the mirror and say: “this is what I can do with what I’ve got.” We aren’t limited by what we don’t have; we are limited by what we don’t appreciate or understand; we are held back by what we don’t see in ourselves and by what we wrongly believe to be our limitations.

Of course we cannot do everything we wish we could. Of course there are limits to what we can accomplish or what our bodies can do but all too often we don’t even come close to reaching our real limits. How many beautiful songs are unwritten because someone believes their idea is no good or because they have been told they have no talent? How many lives are lived hesitantly and incompletely because of fearing failure or embarrassment? How many dreams have been left untouched because they seem silly or unrealistic? How many skills have gone unattempted because they might end up dashed on the ground before they are mastered? Surely we will never fly with the easy grace of a sparrow or even with the ungainly first efforts of a Heron; there are physical concerns that keep humans from accomplishing what birds do naturally; yet there is no reason that our souls can’t take flight and soar; why we can’t at least try to reach beyond self-imposed limits or to break free from the excessive or unfair boundaries place on us by others. We might not have the wings to fly like a bird but if we explore all of our own wonderful giftedness, maybe we’ll give the birds something to dream of as we move freely, comfortably and without hesitation on the ground.