I took a walk this morning and, as I neared home, a bird soared above me. About the size of a hawk, it was grey and white. He stopped in mid-air every so often as though hanging from a string with the clouds passing by. His sound was like a loud tweet, not at all a squack or squeal. I stopped to see him linger between the leafing branches of the trees. He said, “Good, you mind is exactly where it is supposed to be. Now keep it there.” Alas my mind can’t do that. He was asking the impossible.
My mother used to tell me I had my head in the clouds. She told me that because I didn’t pay attention in school. But she was wrong. My head was not in the clouds. My head was in my head. If it had been in the clouds, I might be that bird today saying to someone, “Your mind is exactly where it is supposed to be. Now keep it there.”