Cup of Coffee, Slice of Pie

I was walking along the waterfront in Vancouver the other day, just taking a stroll. It was my brother’s birthday and we were at McMenamins to celebrate. We had only made it a short distance when we came to the spot where the osprey like to nest. Its not much to look at. A large, spiky looking nest perches atop of an old river piling pole and thats about it. As usual, there were some birds in it, but they only caught my attention for a short while.

What distracted me was the old man staring intently at the three birds. It wasn’t overly warm, yet he had his shirt off and was holding it in one hand. What remained was a pair of khaki shorts and flip flops. I immediately took him to be some wacky, bird enthusiast. He had the stiff posture of someone who had been standing there for a while. My family had stopped for a brief moment to acknowledge the birds, as we always do, and then attempted to continue on our walk. However, this shirtless old man suddenly seemed very keen to impart to us any and all information he had concerning these osprey.”It’s a mother and two young ones!” he all but shouted at us, despite the fact we were already walking away. The group halted, glanced at the nest and then back at this curious figure before us. We mumbled back,”Oh, yes, uh hu, look at that…” We were just about to turn when he spoke again, “They’re trying to fly!” he exclaimed.

That caught my interest and I turned for a better look at the nest. Sure enough, two of the birds appeared to be attempting to fly. They would stretch out their wings and let the brisk breeze gently lift them up a few feet above the massive nest, hover for a few seconds and then come back down. Now that he had a captive audience, the man spoke again, “They’ve been trying to fly for a while now but all they do is hover.” He apparently found this amusing because he laughed before repeating himself, “All they do is hover.” His words were followed up by erratic hand gestures that would have symbolized flight, except for the shirt that still dangled in his hand and got in his way.

His message sufficiently communicated, he turned back to stare avidly at the nest. His silence was short lived. A sudden gust of wind blew by and almost snatched one of the hovering eagles out of the safety of its home. “Did you see that? He almost did it!” the man exclaimed with his peculiar enthusiasm, “but he didn’t really want to, eh? The wind almost took him!” Laughing again, he continued to watch the fledglings.

The birds were getting tired at this point and stopped hovering for a few moments. We waited to see if they would start up again, but after a few moments decided we would continue along the path. I had turned and was about to be on my way when I suddenly heard my grandma give a little yell, “Look, look!” I spun around just in time to see one of the fledglings suddenly soaring out of the nest. He was fiercely battling the wind and eventually made a shaky landing on a piling not too far from his nest. I felt like applauding! Its not every day you get to see the first flight of a young eagle. Everyone was grinning except for the old man who was ecstatic, “Did you see? Did you see? He did it!” he shouted, jumping up and down. The happiness was etched into every line on his face. He was as proud of that bird as he would have been for his own child. Laughing, he continued, “For days, for days, they sit there and try to hover, try to fly!” This accompanied by more erratic hand movements, shirt flapping in the wind. He continued to laugh happily as he turned back to the nest to see if the other bird would be as successful.

We too were now on the edge of our seats. We waited for a long time, but the last fledgling only made feeble attempts to continue hovering. Eventually we had to leave and as we turned to go, the bird was still struggling to get off the ground. That old man still stood there, watching and laughing at every small victory and I knew that when the last bird finally left the nest he would be there, jumping up and down, shirt flapping. The birds weren’t the only ones flying that day.

-N

…

…I must be a very basics oriented person. I am discovering that I have little patience for complicated twists and turns. Procedures annoy me and sequence is tiring. I think thats why I am attracted to things like running and writing. To run, you simply run as far as you can; to write; you simply write whatever is in your head. Shoes and pencils are optional (You can debate me about the pencil but I once wrote an entire journal entry with a piece of ash from a campfire). Both running and writing are driven in me by something deeper. The energy that sends me flying down the trail is the same energy that sends my pen flying across the page. Pent up, exhilarating, uncontrollable, pure energy in various forms and emotions driving my most basic needs. Sometimes I feel like I could rule the world! Imagine my excitement when I suddenly realized, I do.

Looking out at the road rushing under my feet, feeling the wind as it caresses me, the trees whispering my name, the mountains singing to me of strength like they always have. I look around at the world surrounding me and I am struck by the realization that it is all there for me! Like a playground built for children, the world sits in wait for me to explore. Some adventure can be found at home for sure, but what a waste to leave whole continents, full of treasures beyond our realms of belief, sitting there waiting for you. Yes, the world is mine, as it is yours! Ours to explore and to adventure, reveling in its vastness. The incomprehensible distance from here to the stars, the whole of the planet and everything beyond, we are given this one life to see all that we can.

Lets go!

-N