On the Wings of…

Sometimes I fly. Sometimes I soar. Sometimes I think I’m gonna crash. Sometimes I do.

In the times I fly, I fly not on my own power, but on that of the Divine, and on love and support from friends and from all yogis. I am like a sail – without that Divine Wind filling me up, I am just an empty, tattered thing. Filled with love, I expand, unfurl, fly. 

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All the modern sages tell me I am no good unless I am strong and capable, independent, complete in myself and requiring no one. I tried that for years. It worked…to a degree. I can fly on my own, as any eagle can. Yet for eagles to truly soar, they need to be borne on the glorious breeze. Geese can fly on their own, yet they form Vs so that the wind from the wing-beats of one lifts and sustains the others behind them. 

If the cool people are self-sufficient, then I am definitely not a cool person…but we all knew that. I need the love and support of the universe to truly soar. I need the guidance of friends, a good woman, the sages.

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I am like Icarus…borne on wings of wax, I fly towards the sun, the glorious sun.

I feel that heat.

I am looking for organic wings, doing the things to help them grow. In the meantime, I use these wings of wax, wings that carry me towards the gods, towards Olympus. 

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I’m not sure where this blog -or my self- is headed. Like a swallow, I simply dart around, swooping, allowing my thoughts to roam. I need no destination, no purpose, no immediate goal. I need no maps or Point A to Point Z routes. I simply fly. 

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I fly alone, for now. That can be a beautiful thing, but I prefer to fly as part of a pair, or even as part of a flock. As the old folk saying goes, if you want to fly fast, fly alone…if you want to fly far, fly together. This solitary airborne soul has flown alone for a while now. My wings are getting a bit tired. Sometimes I look down, far below me, and wonder how it would be to simply dive, to allow gravity to pull me towards my mother Gaia and never pull up. Sometimes I wonder how I can wreak a little more performance out of these wings, how I can fly like Johnathan Livingston Seagull into a new world, a new me. 

Mostly I just fly.

I guess I am sort of a phoenix. I rise from the ashes of my old self, from the ruins of my old life. I rise, I fly, I soar upwards to greet the dawn. I fly alone, but perhaps not forever. I am just glad to fly, to be able to flow through the air, through time and space. 

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I am love on wings.

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‘Here I’ll live and die with my wings in the sky and I won’t come down no more.’

          -Kansas

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