We all have flying dreams. In some of my flying dreams I am above everything, looking down on my street and seeing my friends. It's like being above the turmoil of life. In many of my dreams I'm unable to keep flying. Despite the fact that I am flapping my arms as hard as I can, I descend back to earth unhappy and let down. It had been so exhilarating being above everything.
For me it meant having to accept the fact that I am one of the vast number of normal, average human beings. Not easy to accept my ordinariness. I realize that there is the 1% who have talent, even genius: the musicians, the poets, the leaders - those special ones who for unknown reasons I thought myself one of them. Truth is I'm not.
Growing up, I thought I might be a saint. At the least a member of the chosen, the saved, guaranteed a seat in heaven. Now I know heaven doesn’t exist, nor does God. And so here I am down to earth with the awareness of the limits of my species. And individually painfully aware of my own frailties, foibles and failures.
Oh there are times, that I can fly high, be connected to my higher self, the Divine within me, These times I accept as blessed moments. But they do not last, and once again I come down to earth, conscious of my limits if not aware within me of the latent darkness that I see manifest within my species that for wont of a better name we call evil.
And this seems to be my task. To accept that I walk this earth, conscious of the destructive nature of my species, one with the lost and lonely and anguished of my kind, aware of my kinship with all who walk or crawl, and share this world, and open to the brief glimpses that are offered to all of us, of what is all about us – Life in all its awesome beauty and being.