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learning to fly

Let me fall like a stone in the water
Let me fall like a plane out of the sky
Let me crash, let me burn my heart out
Let me learn to fly – David Cook

I woke up with this refrain in my head at 3am this morning. I often wake up with songs going through my head – like my inner radio is stuck on “WWTF- all confusing snippets, all the time” but this one felt different.

Let me  fall like a stone in the water

A stone in the water … sinking, having no recourse but to sink. To give in, to yield, to accept its new home.

Let me fall like a plane out of the sky

A plane out of the sky …. something going wrong, no giving, no yielding, fighting desperately to right itself

Let me crash, let me burn my heart out

Let me crash – acceptance, can’t change the situation, “I give ….”

Let me learn to fly

Let me learn what I can and run with it, all on my own. Let me fly now.

A short while ago I started writing a post about what it feels like to break with a teacher who had been a major influence in my life and all the mixed feelings that come with that. It was such an emotional topic for me that I stopped in the middle of writing it to create a Facebook page for my cat so I didn’t have to deal with everything that got stirred up by it. And I never went back to finish that post.

Sometimes, outgrowing the need for a certain kind of teacher is a smooth process. You both realize that the relationship has run its course and everyone just sort of moves on.

And other times, it’s a stormy affair with misunderstandings, wounded egos, and very often, sadness. And maybe that’s how it needs to be so you truly CAN fly. Maybe those are the teachers from whom you learned the most.

And maybe you need to “crash and burn [your] heart out” so that you can truly appreciate what it means to fly. On your own. No one to catch you when you fall. No one to bail you out. Just 100% you.

Mama birds sometimes push their little ones out of the nest if they see they aren’t learning what they need to survive.

Perhaps it’s part of being a teacher, making the (sometimes unconscious?) decision to do that when their students are unwilling to fly.

Too scared to fail.

Too scared to look inside and see what’s there (or not there, really).

Too scared to be who they really are at core soul level because it feels too big.

I’ve crashed and burned my heart out recently.

It was like being literally punched in the gut. I didn’t pay attention to the nudges I had gotten a while ago.

So, I had to be shown what it feels like to crash.

And burn.

And wonder if any of it is worth all this.

It is.

Because I am who I am.






And I am learning to fly.

(Credit for beautiful photo is here.)