The
urge to fly seems to be so inbred within humans that you would think we
descended from birds. The spiritual insight is that the fantasy of flying
reflects our intuition concerning our true nature as free spirits nonmaterial
beings which are exempt from the grave rules of earth. Dreams of flying tend to
be common launching pads for spiritual revelations, as if the experience of
flying releases an inner recognition of a superior reality that has been lying
dormant within us in our ordinary lives.
Flying dreams can seem so real
that it is hard to believe that it's not really possible to fly. I can recall
trying, as a child, several ideas I received from my dreams about how to create
takeoff into flight. I ran as fast as I could and jumped into the air. I swung
on ropes. I once stood up on the roof and then, fortunately, aborted that plan.
I practiced with a pogo stick, jumping up and down, with each jump getting a
little higher. As hard as I worked at it, I tired out before achieving
significant liftoff. Today, I watch kids having an easier time trying
essentially the same strategy on a trampoline.
Although your preferences might
lean toward sky diving, I believe that of the various approaches to simulating
flight, the most dazzling is trapeze acrobatics. Perhaps you remember the song
lyrics and who it was who could "fly through the air with the greatest of ease."
Maybe you saw the movie, Trapeze, with Burt Lancaster. Either could have
stimulated your imagination about what it might be like to fly and turn
somersaults in the air.
Now you can find out,
indirectly, that is. Sam Keen, known to some of our readers through his previous
books (e.g., Fire in the Belly) took trapeze lessons, and as a bonus to his
arial thrills, he got another book out of it: Learning to Fly: Trapeze –
Reflections on Fear, Trust, and the Joy of Letting Go (Broadway Books). He
proved that it is possible to go and have great fun – an adventure – and
actually derive some spiritual growth, share the resulting insights with others,
and get paid for doing so. That's quite a combination, and in itself a close
approximation to the ease and grace of living that flying suggests.
He provides plenty of the
details concerning the amazing art and demanding craft of the trapeze and
discovers within them principles for living. Some are predictable: Fear can be a
friend, but we have to learn how to channel it so that it serves the goal rather
than blockades it. Trying to figure it out in the mind doesn't work. You have to
"get out of your head" and let the instincts of the body take over. Some
insights are less predictable. Keen's meditation on the dance between the people
on the trapeze brings home the important truth that spirituality requires our
attention to the external world—to others—and a readiness to harmonize ourselves
with the surprises that others bring us.
My favorite section of the book
dealt with the fear of falling. In the trapeze arena, performers work with a
safety net. Students learn how to fall safely, how to hit the net, how to relax,
and how to roll with the punches. Nevertheless, fear of falling can be an
obstacle to the grace needed to let go into flight. I remember, in my own case
while learning ice skating, how the fear of falling kept me stiff. I could not
allow my body its natural tendency to lean into the curves, for fear of falling.
It was only after I became good at falling that I was able to let go fully into
the wisdom of the skates.
Fear of making mistakes is a
stumbling block for most of us. I am not surprised to see it in the classroom,
where people anticipate being evaluated by the teacher. This sense of hesitancy
crops up even in totally risk-free situations, such as singing out loud. There
seems to be, especially among grown-ups, a well-trained caution, an inner
security guard that is ever vigilant. Sometimes you have to get into the long
running start of a carefree, fun attitude in order to really let yourself go
into the freedom that is available to the faithful.
Not all of us will be as lucky
as Sam Keen to have a trapeze teach you how to let your spirits soar.
Fortunately, there are plenty of other opportunities.
A simple, and totally safe,
approach to learning to fly is available to you as you sit in your chair. Simply
focus on your breath without controlling it. As the breath flows out, surrender
and let spirit breathe you. Even the knowledge that your breath is an automatic
reflex is often not enough insurance to allow you to trust that a breath will
come on its own. It takes practice to totally surrender. But learning how to
trust in "inspiration" is a lot cheaper and more convenient than learning how to
fly on a trapeze. Although not as physically exhilarating as leaping from a
trapeze, this simple meditation on the breath can nevertheless reveal the
uplifting power of spirit.
