Right now my feet are dangling over the edge of my Lazy Boy chair. My stomach is heavy and my eyes feel like closing. I’ve been sick the last few days.
I wonder if it has to be this way.
Can I create flying right now? Can I rise above the vague nausea and lift into the sky? Can I feel the power of my wings pulsing down, pulling me upwards? The wind whistling through my feathers?
Can I look downwards to the sweep of the land and all the folks walking on it? Can I then lift my head to the far horizon and the mysteries that lie beyond?
Or am I stuck in the pull of the body … the pain and the weakness? I know. I’ll ask a friend:
He says “Come join me on the currents of air. There is much to discover, dear human.”