My four-year-old decided to mimic my journal writing (in my journal). It was cute
, until I told her she had to stop to get ready for school and she threw a fit. Her desire to be grown up is sometimes so endearing but other times it's maddening.
I have lost count of the moments she's insisted she could do something without help and has hurt herself trying. I'm glad I am there to pick her up again.
I've realized this is my story, even as an adult. Now and then, I'll wander just far enough by myself and start to get this idea that I've gained enough insight, strength in the wings, that now I'm ready to fly. Solo. To handle it all alone and suddenly soar. Never to return?
I love the book,
Are You My Mother?. That baby bird is pretty cute. He's determined to find his mother.
I will! he says.
I WILL! He jumps (and falls) out of the tree, wanders among strangers, gets a little confused, and doesn't find his mother. Something scary swoops in and that scary thing takes him home. His mother returns and the baby bird thinks he's the one who's found her. How endearing. She humors him. Can beaks smirk? They do in children's stories because I can hear her thoughts,
Mm hmm, you sure are smart, little one! You've figured it out all by yourself. Look how far you've come!
In actuality, the bird still hasn't learned to fly. He's a fledgling. He may be strong enough to try to fly, even leave the nest for a bit, but his mother's job is not done.
It usually takes something of the scary sort to help me find my way home again. To remember, even if I know how to fly, that the soaring only comes in surrender. I yield again to the reality that I can't do it alone, and flying with wings like the eagle only happens when I trust the Wind alone.
No matter how far I have come, I need to let the Wind carry me... and lift me again when I jump and fall.
Spirit, teach me how to really fly. Teach me long.
*Second photo image taken from illustration by P. D. Eastman ©
1960
