I saw an eagle yesterday perched high in the treetops looking out over the open space the highway cut through the woodland.  Lost in thought about a day spent with a friend I’ve known nearly all my life, I almost missed him, but against the grey sky, his silhouette drew me out into the openness surrounding us, rooting us to the moment.  

As so often happens, I was swept up in what was, and a feeling I had been forgotten in the onslaught of years, disengaged me from my present sense of peace.  Why should I be so concerned with what was, when what is is far more meaningful?  

Had I thought this meeting would somehow replace these feelings?  Probably.  It’s human nature to want to erase tragedy from our thoughts.  And a weakness that we try so hard to exude our strength in our escape of it.  That strength is the only device we have in processing our past so that we may live and experience life to the fullest.  It would be so much easier to lie down and let the grass engulf us.  As the brave lyrics said, “Dying is easy; it’s living that scares me to death.”

And the phone rang just then, as if my thoughts of recovering from some certain sorrow, were echoed into the cab of the truck.  It was my friend – the one person I hadn’t called.  And I was reminded that we have survived something so horrible, to rediscover something I have clung to all along – the hope that good will come of this.  And the enduring friendships that will survive us somehow.  

It’s like the broken mirror that fills us with dread for fear of bad fortune, but which refracts a million times over the light that surrounds us.  If only, we could, in those moments, see the tiny rainbows formed by the shattered glass.