Today’s post is from Secular Mornings’ guest author, Jack Kelly.
Today’s text is an excerpt from the book The Yamas & Niyamas: Exploring Yoga’s Ethical Practice.
When I lived near the shores of Lake Sacajawea, I had the grace of time to take long walks on miles of land that held the promise of seeing no one. One day I stumbled upon a large nesting site for blue herons along the banks of the lake. I became a constant visitor until the herons accepted me as part of what belonged. I watched as eggs were laid and tended; I watched as young chicks poked and maneuvered their way out of their shell homes, now become prison; I watched as those newborns were tended and fed. I watched as they grew to look more like herons than fuzzy masses. Finally the day came, when I was privy to their flying lessons.
It had never occurred to me that a bird wouldn’t automatically know how to fly perfectly. What I watched was a comedy in errors. I watched the parents strategically fly off (but not too far) and leave the young ones seemingly unattended to figure flying out for themselves. I watched as the brave ones began to try their wings and hover ever so slightly above the nest. And then I watched them get braver and fly out of their nests and begin to play with the wind and landings. I watched as attempt after attempt was made to land back in the best, only to be misjudged over and over again. Whoops! I don’t think I have ever laughed so hard in my life, nor been so touched by the beauty of this mastering of flying.
Somewhere we forget that we had to learn how to walk like these young birds had to learn to fly. We forget how many times we fell. We forget that things take practice.
(Pages 137-138)
As I am struggling with learning a new skill (google ads) and feeling frustrated at being an absolute beginner, this quote is resonating. I feel like a baby chick that is flapping and missing the nest over and over. Instead of getting upset, it feels much more empowering to laugh at the silly mistakes and to be patient in knowing that it takes time to learn to fly. Like most wise practices, easier said than done.