This morning I sat in my hiding spot in the backyard sneaking my daily smoke. The kiddies were l off to school, 1, 2, 3, 4 and breathe. I spied the beautiful blue sky with its cloud formations, so lovely. The Autumn chill in the air. Crisp and delightful. Perfect morning.
As I gazed at the winged wonders that are ever present during my morning meditation, I spotted a bird flying high. Quickly flapping! If I had not heard the “honk” I would have never realized it was a goose. It surprised me because one of my favorite stories is how geese never fly solo. There are ways three.
Suddenly I felt sad, for I know how the goose must feel. At times when I am at my lowest point, flapping around for someone to come and guide me through, I feel frightened, unsettled and confused. “Where is my flock?”
It was then that I saw the other two racing and honking to catch up with the first. How ironic. Here I thought the goose was flying solo, trying to find his flock, when he was ahead of them the whole time.