Flying Lessons

Only a few short weeks after the doves built their nest outside my office window, the shallow patch of twigs they so constantly tended is empty now, and I can’t help but feel sad at the loss, and a twinge of loneliness.  The two baby doves required only days to grow from bobbing tuffs of fluff to handsome, miniature versions of the doting adults.  They chafed impatiently at the confines of the nest, stretching their wings long as if to say “they're made for flying - let’s go! let’s go!”  I remember the morning the parents left their young alone for the first time.  The adults  stood bolt-still aside the nest for a full ten minutes, sensing the danger and difficulty of the leap they were about to take, and then surged into the air together, allowing the fledglings a cooler distance that encouraged them further in their flying lessons.  But the parents weren’t far away, re-emerging minutes later on a nearby branch and calling “whoo-WHY-uh, whoo-WHY”, as if to say “come on now!  come on!”.  One of the youngsters finally fluttered two or three feet to a nearby branch and perched there a long while, pruning and preening before the return trip home, and then the parent returned, as well, with an affirming “whoo-WOW-whoo-whoo”, or “How-WELL-you’ve-done!”, and then the calming “whoo-WHAH-whoo-whoo-whoo”, as if to say “That’s-ALL-for-now-now!”

I found that observing their daily routine encouraged me in my own endeavors, many of which are as new to me as the trees and skies are to the baby doves.  Seek a balance in your activities, they seemed to say - no need to scale all the hurdles altogether.  But do a little each day, as you feel the energy rise in your wings.  Fly to the branch in front of you.  Sit there for awhile and enjoy the view.  Prune.  You don’t have to be the first out of the nest.  All the nestlings make it - at their own pace.  Just do what you can do each day, eat well, take time to snuggle, and get plenty of rest.   There are storms to weather, naps to take, and there’s time.  There’s plenty of time.  Tomorrow you’ll fly again to the nearest branch, then a familiar thing, and from there you’ll see another, and then another, ‘til at the edge of your familiar home you’ll look upwards to the huge expanse of sky for the first time and throw your voice outward in amazement and joy, and your wings will follow.  You’ll surprise yourself at your capacities, and oh, my - the fun! the fun! - whirling through the air, weightless and free!  You’ll not pine for the nest any longer, then.  Far below, it will appear a cramped and little thing.  You’ll prefer to soar, soar in the sun, and the rain will flow from your back and the thunder will be like a clap of the wind, cheering you on and on.  And that’s where you’ll belong - soaring and twirling your dance in the air, and your song will lead others to the waters you’ve found and you’ll share them.  You’ll share it all!