What I mean (of course) is the effortless art of soaring like an eagle on a pocket of warm air, high above the ground where you don't need to do much flapping to keep yourself going. The current does it all for you. It sounds beautiful but... you've got to learn how to get there, and even then you don't know how long it will last before you have to start flying to the next one. Hence me not doing any washing up for a week, rushing straight to church after work and (to my Mum's disappointment) living off microwaveable ready meals. Flap, flap, flap, soar, soar, soar, collapse, collapse, collapse, flap, flap, flap. Ping!
I looked around the room tonight at the ocean of hands in the air. There were people there who have much more stamina than I do. They'd been to everything, day and night for the last week and a half, throwing themselves in. They have found thermals that I have not. But is that okay? Does it show less passion on my part? Should I be more, dare I say it, spiritual? If it gets to 10:15pm and I look at the clock and realise I left work five hours ago and my desire is to be in bed rather than in a 'life-changing revival' is that... well, is it acceptable? Is it okay? Should I be flapping harder to find the thermal that gets me all the way through tomorrow without feeling so tired that I could throw up?
Thankfully, whatever happens, I am going on holiday in a few days' time. That will require very little flapping, and hopefully some very natural soaring by the craggy cliffs and sparkling seas of the Dorset coastline.
I sometimes feel a bit like a sparrow in a world of eagles. It's not a lack of trying, it's more that I don't feel like I've got the right wingspan. I can play, and that is a thermal for me, and I can walk and climb and think and pray on my own, that's another, but I can't always stay awake when I've been working so hard to fly as fast and as bravely as others can.
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