The Bald Eagle

The Bald Eagle

Tuesday, June 25, 2013


As they sat on the floor of the ocean, the Child looked down at the different kind of fish in their various  colors, she observed how the blue and the draw sperm whales swam through the area of the ocean beneath her; how  the dolphins and porpoises joined in and seem to chatter  as they swam in a reposed state of relaxation.  The Child felt their inner peace: she was astounded.

"This is fun," the Child said to the Prophet.  "I like sitting here."

"Yes, it is. A diversion is necessary,  and what better place to have one than here," replied the Prophet.

"What's a diversion?" the Child asked.

"A resting spot where you divest yourself of your thoughts and let your mind rest."

"Isn't that harmful, Prophet. Doesn't it defeat my purpose of getting to my destination on time?"

The Prophet chuckled at  the Child's conclusion.

"You're still impetuous, my child."

"And you are ignoring my questions again, my Prophet." the Child replied.

"My,  aren't we smart today," the Prophet said, and he looked at her with a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

She knew that gleam and feared  he would disappear and leave her alone again. He did,  sometimes: Then she felt isolated on the big wide ocean, walking by herself.

"Why are you laughing at me, Prophet?"

"I'm not laughing at you. I never do. I'm dumbfounded."

"Dumbfounded at what Prophet?"

"At you, Child."

"But why are you dumbfounded at me?  I don't understand."

"Because you've managed to turn a simple diversion designed for your pleasure into an hour of anguish for yourself."

"How did I do that, Prophet?"

"By not enjoying our little diversion and concentrating on the present,  on what's happening now."

"But what about tomorrow?   How can I relax and enjoy this diversion when I know that I have so many miles before me?  It just doesn't make sense to me, Prophet."

"What were you thinking as you watch the mammals beneath you?"

"I dreamed I was one of them gliding through the ocean's water as I enjoyed the wind currents."

"How did you feel?"

"Happy, but––" she replied, and pondered whether she should continue.

"But what, Child."

"What has that got to do with my questions? You haven't answered any of them, and none of this makes sense."

"It doesn't have to make sense, Child. Rest your mind. Soon, you will be at another place that will demand your concentration and your strength. Rest today and enjoy your diversion. Tomorrow will come soon enough."

The child stretched herself out and lay with her face, facing the ocean floor. Two blue whales were playing with each other, and she laughed. Yes, she thought. Today, I'll rest: Maybe, this diversion is needful: Tomorrow will surely come.

Pat Garcia

Tuesday, June 11, 2013


Choice, an uncanny word that hides behind the face of responsibility, rattles us into making decisions.  No one makes a decision without having a choice.

Our choices make us responsible for our lives;
For those words we speak, 
For those actions we undertake
For those beliefs we live. 

Life, your life,  stems out of  choices made. Regardless, of the status of our birth, 

Whether rich or poor, 
Disabled or non-disabled, 
Intelligent or mentally handicapped,  

We are all challenged to rise above that that we were born into and to discover the jewels buried within us. It is our decision, our choice, our responsibility.  

"Why," said the Child to the Prophet.  "Why can't you tell me what to do?"

"That's not  why I'm here, Child."

"Then why are you here, always annoying me?"

"I don't mean to annoy you. I'm here to accompany you along the way."

"But doesn't that mean you're supposed to tell me what to do?"

"Oh no, my dear Child. I can never do that. I am not allowed to take away your choice.  That would be unfair to you." 

"But what if I want you to do it?"

"It wouldn't work. Regardless, of what you want me to do, the one thing that I cannot do is choose for you."

"But what happens if I make  wrong choices?"

"Then you will have to go through the consequences, until you get to the path where you have to choose again."

"You're making everything so difficult. Why can't you just tell me; that would save me lots of time?"

"Child," said the Prophet, "Would you  gain any experience on your journey; Would you  suffer any pain;  Would you know how it is to be sick, or how it is to hurt when you have been injured; would you recognize remorse, or how to feel regret; and more than that, would you ever feel gratitude for how far you have come, if I were to make your choices for you?" 

"I hadn't thought about it like that," the Child whispered more to herself than to the Prophet. 

"Your choices are the catalyst that will uncover the tiny  nuggets within you; those gems that you cannot see and no money can buy."

"You mean there are priceless gems within me that I cannot see and that is why I have to make choices?"

"Of course there are, Child. Are you ready for us to go farther?"

"Yes, I am, Prophet. I can't wait until I have to make the next choice. I want to see one of those gems.  Let's go."

The Prophet smiled at the naiveness of the Child that did not realize that she had just made a choice and scratched away a tiny dot of crust on the gem of perseverance.

Pat Garcia