WINGS AND A CHAIN
Mark F. Graham
I can't remember the first time I saw him, with his wings
and chain. At first he always seemed far
away and easy to ignore. But as time
passed he seemed to move in closer upon me, and I became more aware of him, and
more fearful. Wherever I went he seemed
to have either just been there, was there at the time of my arrival, or showed
up soon afterwards. I could often see
him off in the distance, waiting and watching, his chain in one hand and the
wings in the other. It was the chain
that scared me. Whenever I saw it, I
quickened my pace and tried to put distance between him and me. Sometimes he came so close I could hear the
tinkle of the chain, and would cringe in fear, hiding in frantic activity. He never imposed, but I always knew he would
be there when I slowed down and looked around.
He seemed to have incredible patience, and, despite my impatience, he
kept pursuing me relentlessly.
Along the way it began to dawn on me that it was not good
for a man to run and hide. It was tough
to face however, because I knew, deep down, that I would have to confront him -
and the chain. And the closer I came to
the knowledge of that confrontation, the larger and heavier the chain
appeared. I began to spend most of my
time planning how to avoid the chain.
The wings, however, continued to attract me to him.
It finally happened.
I had run long and hard that day only to find that he was already there
at the end of the run. I tried to hide
in my regular pursuits, but they were meaningless, and the meaninglessness
frustrated me, and I lashed out at him in anger and frustration. I gave him no time to speak, but immediately
lambasted him with my conditions of our relationship. I confessed to him that he was certainly
fascinating, and that there seemed to be some truth in what he represented, but
I made it clear that we would progress on my terms. I began explaining to him why I should not
and could not be subjected to the chain.
But before I could complete my lengthy, prepared rationalization, I
realized that he was offering the wings to me.
He was holding the chain partially out of sight, behind his back, as if
he knew it was offensive to me, and he was holding the wings out, toward me. I don't know how long he had been holding
them out in that way, perhaps from the beginning of my monologue.
Then, a most amazing thing happened. I can't explain it. It changed my life. It happened when, while reaching out to take
the wings, for the first time, I looked into his eyes. He did not seem to be offended, as I had
expected. He was not angry. His eyes were not scolding me. He was not trying to convince me that I should
take the chain, and he was not shaming me for not taking it. There was understanding in his eyes. It was as if he knew about the battles inside
of me. It was as if he knew about the
war. His eyes captivated and penetrated
me and drew me into a world that I never knew existed - a fascinating, dazzling
world, the brightness of which I could only bear for a moment. I withdrew quickly, in fear and
embarrassment, from his gaze. My eyes
fell to the ground at his feet. I felt both warm and cold inside at the same
time. I dared not look into his eyes
again, but rather hang-doggedly took the wings and turned away.
After a while, with the help of my new wings, I was able to
shake the feeling that he had left inside me: the feeling of inferiority, of
coolness, and of loose-endedness.
I flew far and high.
And it was exciting - really exciting - for a while. But after a while it seemed that each time I
took flight the air was hot and stale in my face, and unrefreshing, like diving
into a hot swimming pool. And, even
though I flew far and high, and into many strange lands where I had never
journeyed, there always seemed to be something wrong - something missing. The water would be polluted, or the air, or
the climate was bad, or the people wouldn't look at your face when they spoke,
or they appeared weakly and sick. Many
places where I stopped had beautiful gardens and orchards with flowers and
fruits, and, just as it seemed that I had found the right place, I would learn
that the flowers were plastic and the fruit poisonous or cancerous. I would then feel restless and compelled to
take flight again, into the hot, stale air, searching - searching - for what?
I began to remember, more and more frequently, the encounter
with him, and the look in his eyes, and the chain. Occasionally I thought I could see him, way
out on some horizon, still waiting and watching, with his chain. Sometimes I would think about flying to him,
confronting him again, and trying to understand him. Perhaps I could get a new pair of wings. Mine were worn, frayed and soiled beyond
repair, and had the stains of the pollution of the lands into which I had
flown. But these thoughts came and
went. I wasn't even sure my wings could
make it to him, he always seemed so far away now.
I eventually settled in a land. I knew it wasn't the right place, but I had
come to believe that there was no right place.
So I determined to make it right.
I chose a place that was as close as I could find to my ideal, and began
to work to change what I perceived to be the problems. It was a long, hard, fruitless battle, and it
left me worn out, tired, hopeless, and feeling sorry for myself. A group of townspeople, angered by my
attempts to change the system, had carried me to the outskirts of town and
dumped me at the edge of a slimy, oil-slicked pool. There was nowhere that I cared to go, even if
my oil-soaked wings would have carried me.
As I tried to gather my thoughts and set a new goal, some
objective, even a short-term objective, a place to go, some direction,
anything, as I was wiping the slime from my face and groping away from the pool
- I saw him! He was more radiant than I
remembered. Peace enveloped him and
flowed around him like a living, glowing gaseous liquid. He held the chain in his hand. Suddenly I knew that it was what was lacking,
what I had needed, and that now I was ready for it, and that he knew all of
that too, and that was why he was here.
I realized that he had never been far away, that he had always been
there, very close, waiting and watching.
I realized that what had drawn me to him was his love, and what had
driven me away was his truth, and that now it was time for the chain.
I stepped forward, and with shaky courage looked again into
his eyes. The intensity was the same as
before - even more. I felt the necessary
conflict of love and truth, and their oneness, in the highest form. I felt something high and holy that I had
left far behind, or never known existed - something that is the object of all
growth, the only legitimate reason for striving, and the only solution to
strife. In his eyes I saw the beginning
of the path that I knew would lead to the place that I had always searched
for. Yet I saw also that this path led
through lands in which there were battles to fight, far tougher than any I had
yet fought. But they were meaningful
battles! And the beginning of the path
was the chain. The chain was before me,
meaninglessness in all other directions.
As I took my end of the chain from his outstretched hand, I
noticed that there was no key-slot on the handcuff. The other end was already locked onto his
wrist. As I locked my end onto my wrist,
I felt for the first time since I could remember that I had done something
right, in the real sense of the word. I
felt strengthened inwardly. And I was
delighted to see that I had a brand new pair of wings!
I've been flying with him now for some time. The chain was quite cumbersome at first, and
I kept flying off in the wrong direction, only to be snatched back by it, like
a young dog his first time on a leash.
But he has led me into some beautiful places that I could have never
found on my own. And as we travel
together, his way becomes my way, and I often forget about the chain, except
occasionally when I see a place that looks so good as we travel by, and I think
that I would like to stop in for a "break", or some "excitement";
it is the knowledge of the chain that keeps me from making those mistakes. I am thankful that there is no way to remove
the chain, for there have been times when I would have, when he leads me into
battles or over cold mountain ranges, and it seems that we are never going to
arrive. But always we have arrived - in
always more beautiful places. And
something I had never experienced – joy – began blossoming in my soul.
The chain has evolved into an invisible living cord
connecting his heart with mine. He flies
into some places that I am not yet capable of going, and I am still unable to
look into his eyes for more than a few moments.
But I have learned enough about him to know that he is the way, the
truth, and the life, just like he said.
The chain, which I feared, has become my only freedom, giving meaning to
the flight of my wings. I don't know
exactly where he is taking me, but I travel on joyfully with him, learning more
and more about him, taking more and more of him into me. I look forward to the time when my love and
courage will be strong enough to face up to all the truth, so that I will be
able to look into his eyes, fully and completely at one with him in his
freedom.
Mark
F. Graham
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