Sometimes you lose sight of how things were when you were a child. Time and experience has a way of tarnishing any sort of innocence or purity we may have ever had. We get so far away from whom we are that one must wonder, "What if instead of seeing our faces in the mirror, what if instead, we see our very soul?"
Would we recognize one another? Would we even talk to each other? Would I still talk to you? Would I even be able to look you in the eyes, knowing exactly who you are, deep down inside?
So maybe, just maybe, you're not comfortable with the notion of the soul. Maybe you don't believe. I don't know, maybe you're just afraid to accept that each of us has a center, a core, of our very being. So then, let us call it our spirit. Is that okay with you? Spirit?
Surely, we are not simply empty shells walking the universe, being lead blindly by our most savage, cruel, crude, and self-centered, ego driven urges. Can we? Is it that simple? I suppose that's an entirely different argument, or maybe not, but let's at least, for the sake of this argument, let's say that we do have a definitive soul, or spirit, and given that information, wouldn't you say the condition of the world's collective spirit is in a sad state of affairs, and in need of some serious repair?
Of late, I've been questioning my ability to see the true quality, the true nature, of anyone's spirit. How could I have been so wrong?
I'm lost; entirely, utterly, without a doubt, lost. I don't know what to do, who to turn to, where to go, I don't know anything. I find it hard to believe that everyone I know, everyone I've known, has had only their own interests at heart. How can I mean so little to so many? Now okay, I know what you're thinking, that someone, somewhere cares for me. Fair enough. True. But that's not enough. Caring, loving, genuine regard for someone takes more than just...

Sometimes you lose sight of how things were when you were a child. Time and experience has a way of tarnishing any sort of innocence or purity we may have ever had. We get so far away from whom we are that one must wonder, "What if instead of seeing our faces in the mirror, what if instead, we see our very soul?"
Would we recognize one another? Would we even talk to each other? Would I still talk to you? Would I even be able to look you in the eyes, knowing exactly who you are, deep down inside?
So maybe, just maybe, you're not comfortable with the notion of the soul. Maybe you don't believe. I don't know, maybe you're just afraid to accept that each of us has a center, a core, of our very being. So then, let us call it our spirit. Is that okay with you? Spirit?
Surely, we are not simply empty shells walking the universe, being lead blindly by our most savage, cruel, crude, and self-centered, ego driven urges. Can we? Is it that simple? I suppose that's an entirely different argument, or maybe not, but let's at least, for the sake of this argument, let's say that we do have a definitive soul, or spirit, and given that information, wouldn't you say the condition of the world's collective spirit is in a sad state of affairs, and in need of some serious repair?
Of late, I've been questioning my ability to see the true quality, the true nature, of anyone's spirit. How could I have been so wrong?
I'm lost; entirely, utterly, without a doubt, lost. I don't know what to do, who to turn to, where to go, I don't know anything. I find it hard to believe that everyone I know, everyone I've known, has had only their own interests at heart. How can I mean so little to so many? Now okay, I know what you're thinking, that someone, somewhere cares for me. Fair enough. True. But that's not enough. Caring, loving, genuine regard for someone takes more than just someone simply taking for granted that people know you care for them.
I've been hurt by several people close to me recently. Its left me paralyzed; paralyzed with fear, loneliness, despair, and an utter sense of worthlessness that I cannot even put into words. It is excruciatingly painful to always have to offer the metaphorical olive branch, only to be ignored. I'll take anything, but I cannot take being ignored.
Back to the spirit, I am not sure if my spirit is broken, or lost. I've lost my faith in the goodness of people. I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust anyone again. If nothing else, I'd have to say that my spirit is wounded.
I've often seen a hawk flying above me, circling me, following me, and maybe watching me. I've even felt that he was protecting me, protecting my spirit. Maybe he was telling me to break free from the world that has entrapped me here. "Spread your wings far and wide, my friend," he'd tell me.
"This cage they have you living in is far too small for a bird, for a spirit, as large and beautiful as yours. Take to the sky, the time is now to explore the greatness that is this world we live in. For before you know it, your cage will have weakened your wings so much, you'll be unable to fly."
He notices as I try and spread my wings, that my spirit has already begun to fade. As the cage draws me in closer and tighter, my feathers begin to wilt. He looks down at me with great sadness. He cannot stand the sight of a wonderful bird such as me, in a state of utter turmoil, no longer knowing just how beautiful I could be, if only I'd spread my wings. He'll continue to look down at me, hoping I will see him soaring through the sky, and hoping that I will realize that I too could be soaring alongside him, feeling the cool breeze glide over me, as I look down at the world below me.
The world is what I make of it, for better or worse, this I know. And with that knowledge, it doesn't make things any easier, but it is a start. It is a beginning of the unwrapping of the bandages binding my wings together. And my friend, the hawk, will continue to wait for me in the sky. He waits for his friend, Wounded Hawk, the hawk with broken wings, to take flight, so he can show him the wonders of this world, and its endless possibilities.