He soars….he hangs on the breeze, effortlessly maneuvering with a flick of a feather.  If you told him, I think he would be surprised by your wonder. To him, flying is like breathing….it’s something he does without thought. He flies to find food, find shelter, find a mate. Does he fly for the joy of it? Does he fly to impress? I don’t know. To me, he is glorious; he epitomizes freedom and grace and beauty.

From his perspective, what he does is nothing big. To me, it is amazing….

…I can think of many in this world who seem to soar above us: Stephen Hawkings*, Mahatma Gandi**, Bill and Melinda Gates***, Yo-Yo Ma****, and Nelson Mandella*****. But they don’t amaze me as much as the woman down the street who gave up her job to be a full-time care-giver for her infirmed husband, or the volunteer firefighter who drops everything when he hears the whistle blow. They are the truly amazing ones, don’t you think?



2 thoughts on “Soaring

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