Sure enough, as a gap developed, the bird sprinted headlong across the thoroughfare, successfully dodging cars.
Apparently the bird didn't realize that he could have flown over all the cars at once. It was clear to me, that as a bird, he certainly had the ability to do this. Yet, HE didn't seem to know it.
What a perfect analogy for humans, I thought. How many of us don't realize the abilities we have and end up crossing streets instead of flying over them? Watching people settle for less than their potential is no less ridiculous than seeing that egret stand on the corner, waiting to cross the street.
The gift of flight is not questioned by a bird. He doesn't compare his wings to another's and meekly decide he can't do it as well, so refuse to do it at all. He doesn't practice flying in secret to avoid embarrassment and then quit all together when he isn't soaring after the second attempt. And a bird certainly never doubts his worthiness to fly, asking himself, "who am I to pompously think I'm good enough to do so?"
Birds fly because birds can. Period.
Failing to use our potential is the same as not having it. Until we truly believe we have that potential - and we're worthy enough to accept it -- we're unable to step into our destiny.
Failing to step into our rightful place doesn't only hurt us - it erases all the good our talents could be providing others as well. Perhaps if we could see how many suffer because we're too fearful to fill the shoes our maker assigned us, maybe then we'd find the courage to use the gifts we've been granted.
We all can fly. Look around at how many people who do. They have no powers that you or I don't possess. They merely understand that they CAN fly, so they do. In the final analysis, "our" talent is not ours at all. It was given to us by a higher power, to be used for a higher plan. Talent is not to be questioned, it is to be USED.
Sprinting safely to the other side of the road, the egret advanced to the edge of a full drainage ditch. He stopped. I watched him look for other routes to walk around it. There weren't any. An advancing pedestrian would soon step on the bird if he didn't make a choice.
As the light turned green and traffic started to roll, my last glance caught the white egret making his only possible choice.
He flew.
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Mike Johnson is an energetic writer & entrepreneur. Learn more about Mike's offerings at www.MikeJohnson.biz