I Can Fly

I returned to the old place. They said I would find the landscape much altered, but nothing had really changed. Steep paths, though less visible, still descended to the ocean sand.

I recalled the plunge down those same paths. Paths so steeply vamped that it took such courage for a child to descend. But I did it. Rushing with monster steps and flying feet, in order not too plunge or tumble.

Faith was important as well. Believing I could run. Believing I could fly. Only one fleeting moment of doubt or hesitation and I would tumble end over end down steep cliffs, over sharp rocks, and into the briars.

I think about how enviable I could have become if gravity could be slightly skewed so that my feet could fly with the same rapidity on a flat track.

And perhaps if the gravity in the human mind could be skewed in a similar manner, we could likewise make unbelievable strides. Strides large enough to accomplish all we ever hope or dream. As long as we don’t hesitate and begin that self-perpetuating tumble – down, down, down. End over end over end.

It is surprising to me that this old haunt offers such philosophical and academic import. Study notes, as it were, promoting an understanding of how the character of the soul can find agility through a memory that cements the belief that ‘I can fly’.