I think it amazing that baby birds simply know how to fly. And they all seem to do it. They simply know that if they leap from the nest and flap their wings, they will take flight. They boldly leap out into un-solid air. They take a huge chance of free-fall, just because they have the deep impulse of flight. Even if they might be fearful, they do not resist. They abandon the security of a solid nest and take flight.
Flight is in my nature as well. But it has taken me a long time to discover it. Like birds, and like all other humans, I have this deep urge and desire for flight. I dream of it, I sometimes practice it. I am instinctively drawn to the abandon of flight, of accepting the free-fall of truly living.
I have this deep urge to accept the world just as it is, and yet I often resist flight. I sense that I am drawn to take flight into the free-fall of the moment. I want to spread my wings and ride on the uncertainty, undefined aspects of every moment. I want to be present in a way that does not cling to imagined reality, to fears, to security.
Yet I live in a culture that encourages the opposite of flight and letting go. I receive constant encouragement that urges me to hold on to security, to certainty, to a predictable future. My culture works against free-fall and trusting flight. It says to be afraid of falling, of letting go, of flight.
I like what baby birds do. I wish I had more of their same trusting courage that allows them to leap off into un-solid air, fully confident that they will take flight. I want to know my self as habitually stepping into free-fall moments and enjoying the exhilaration of flight.