Can Broken Wings Still Fly?

Sure, you might’ve learned why the caged bird sings, but have you asked yourself can broken wings still fly

In one week I noticed three fallen birds. The most telling experience was the first time. I was at work. As I was walking inside from our patio I heard a little chirp. I looked down at my right sneaker and I noticed a little bird on the step. I gasped and asked, “what’re ya doing there bud?” I know what you’re thinking and the answer’s no, it didn’t respond.

But that’s not the point.

As I extended my hand toward the bird to put it back outside, it resisted . It’s puffy, little body jerked away from me. It was obvious the bird was hurt.  I’d noticed a little discharge on the floor underneath it. At first I couldn’t make out which body part it is was coming from, but I knew it had to be from the bird.

And this is the story of how the universe sent me a sign through a friend I’ll refer to as birdie:

I knew birdie was struggling to return to flight. I was so fixated on getting Birdie back outside, into nature, that I sat right beside it and told a coworker. He quickly went to our kitchen and grabbed some water and a small tray to act as a safe house for birdie. I didn’t leave Birdie’s side because I didn’t want it to get hurt from some woman’s heel as she trekked—drunkly— away from the ladies room. Once he came back with our makeshift “bird safety kit” we attempted to scoop Birdie into the tray but, again, Birdie resisted.  

I’d made myself the official bird watcher. And as I watched it, Birdie was dead set on NOT getting help. Then, after a few times of us picking it up, Birdie stopped fighting us and let us put them in the tin. We got Birdie back outside and they were on their way. Still riding the struggle bus, but a many,  many steps closer to the tree it’d fallen out of. 

I chuckled watching this because it reminded me of myself in anguished times. Personally, I don’t like asking for help but am usually the first to run and hand it out. I don’t like relying on other people —so much so— that its sickening. (Even my mother forces me to ask for her help.) The law of life is that people need people. No matter what.  And I’ve grown to believe it is in our weakest, most vulnerable moments that we find  our strength. I think it takes a strong person to vocalize that they need help and an even stronger to help because resisting help gets you nowhere. 

Okay. Back to the birds…

In all these instances the birds were still focused on getting back to where they were. They didn’t display any obvious signs of panic or duress. They were grounded—quite  literally— and appeared to remain focused on their paths. I knew this was a sign from the universe as I’d been seeking spiritual guidance all summer. And only the wise are able to listen.

“Fallen birds in the line of sight. 

Broken but not dead.

Injured but still going.”

Monitoring the birds in each occurrence I realized I was the bird. I’d flown my way to a new city with a flock of plans and fell. Hard. I spent my summer living in an uncomfortable, transient situation. Depleting my savings account week-by-week, and an unsurmountable amount of confusion. And I know, it could’ve been worse. But for my compulsively crafted ways this was one of the most stressful situations I’d been in. I had a job, well two, but no home. I always have my sh-t together, even when I don’t. This was hard. Like, really hard!

To some this move seemed over night, but this journey to Chicago has been nearly a decade of longing. It’s always felt like home to me. Granted it took me a while to appreciate this summer but I realized it was probably the identity crisis many of my peers felt when they went away for college—a feeling I’d never experienced. As consequence would have it I played everything safe majority of my life. (I’m free spirited but like…only because I plan it out that way!)

As my housing applications were being denied or ignored, I realized I was being tested. I could’ve packed up my car with the bags I had and returned back to Kansas City until I secured an apartment. But I didn’t. I wanted to. But I didn’t.

I spent much of my time tryin to sort it out. I was so proud of myself for FINALLY getting the hell out of my safe zone and then I couldn’t even enjoy it fully. For some odd reason I assumed that things would go MY way. I mean I’d manifested this sh-t, so why not?

But as they say, you wanna make God laugh? Make a plan. Talking to coworkers this was seemingly normal. Most of them had either couch surfed or sub-letted before they got their own place after moving to Chicago. Hearing this wasn’t comforting, though. It was depressing and discouraging. All I wanted was to be able to walk around in my plush robe my grandma gave me, burn incense singing New Apartment, while sippin’ a budget-friendly cabernet from Trader Joe’s –yes outta Dollar Tree wine glass! Seriously, was that TOO much to ask?

In hindsight, I mean, sure maybe my problem wasn’t THAT big of a deal??? (yes, yes it was.) In the moment it was stressful. I kept asking myself what’s the lesson the universe is trying to teach me? Why am I getting denied and why am I here. 

Patience? Perseverance? Dedication?

The answer is Yeah 3x.

Manifestation letter…

 I’m sure God was routinely cracking up at me . I made a plan. A well thought out one. I put it to action. I did everything the “right way”. I remember compulsively crafting this well-to-do timeline for myself on my bedroom floor on November 11, 2018 at 11:11pm.  I’d even set a timer to remind me to take a moment of mindfulness.

And as I sat with myself writing, I was intentional about my manifestation letter.

I told myself that this was the year that my heart’s desires would truly resurface. I outlined my values: peace, love, learning & knowledge, growth and strength. Each one of these values is meant to act as a tour guide for my life. Yep. Real corny and intentional.

But I stayed focused on my goals and flew. I fell, but I flew. I know this won’t be the only time my wings get injured. I’m thankful for those who offered encouragement and sent prayers and support.

So, have you figured out if broken wings still fly?

One Reply to “Can Broken Wings Still Fly?”

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