A man sat on a ledge and looked between his knees to the water below. He was old, this man, he was frail and gaunt and didn't have an original thought or feeling left in him. He had paved his life straight and narrow, and had borne down on the path like a roaring river, cutting deeper and deeper into the rock of life, building up walls of exposed, hardened sediment and relationships on either side of his life.
He watched the water roar through the gullies and canyons that had been created over years of striking violently through the rock. He saw that his life was like this river. He followed the length of the water with his eyes as it ran. As he gazed down the length of the river he saw that it slowed and calmed until it finally let out to a large body of water as still and smooth as glass, yet teeming with life.
He contemplated his existence. He wondered whether or not the fury and fierce experiences of life were worth the toll it was taking on his mind. He wondered at life and the living of it. He was worried. He was worried that he was nearing the end and that he didn't have much to say he was proud of.
As we all work toward our final end, do we realize that all along the way we control the depth and way that we cut the rock of life? How will we wear away at the surface of life? Through violent shifts and changes at times. Through calm and measured strokes at others. Infinity moves within each of us. We are the calm before and after our own storms.
Something crinkled in the light at the corner of his vision. The old man turned his head to see an eagle circling in the gusts of wind created by the canyon, looking for prey. The eagle soared so high above the earth. The man trembled. He held out his shaking hands and looked far down the canyon walls to the water below. How can the eagle soar? What makes the bird take flight?
Suddenly, the eagle dove toward the roaring waters of the river. It screamed into the froth and came out clutching a shining silver fish. The eagle climbed with beating wings back out of the canyon and flew off into the distance, the fish shining in its talons.
The old man watched until the last glimmer of the fish and bird were gone. Now he was quiet and still. He thought of all the experiences in his life and how much of it seemed meaningless now. Much of it seemed as though he were just a player on a stage, experiencing something that he didn't understand or could even comprehend.
Then the old man began to remember. He remembered one person. As the eagle had plucked the fish from the river, the old man pulled forth the memory of one person he was proud to know, was proud to have spent time with. And that was something to ponder. If he thought one person was worth the time of his life to know, perhaps that person thought the same about him. Perhaps his river of life had touched more than the earth. Perhaps his life had influenced more than he could imagine.
He was not going to escape his existence. He didn't need to escape his existence. He needed to embrace it, and let it run its course.
The man straightened his bent back and closed his eyes against the sun. He saw the color of his fleshy eyelids lit up by the power of the light from the sun as it set warm above the canyon.
He stood and looked at where the eagle had disappeared into the distance. He looked down at the river and watched it wind it's way to its ultimate, timely and serene end in the large body of water.
The old man slowly got to his feet. He stepped to the ledge, put his face to the sky and closed his eyes.
He raised his arms in a V and held the pose for a long moment.
He jumped.
But he didn't fall....
He flew.
