Someday I'll Learn To Fly

Someday I’ll Learn to Fly 

Will Maguire  copyright@2018

Once there was a jungle and in the jungle was a river. And the river was full of mud.

There each day a herd of rhinoceros swam.

Among them was a very young rhino and like all rhinos he played in the mud and ran with the herd. 

But at night when the jungle was quiet, flying high above the river, he could see birds. 

One day he asked his mother  ‘Mama…will I ever fly?’

She shook her head “No son. The birds have the air and we have the mud.”

“No rhino will ever fly.” 

And the young rhino was sad.

That night he awoke to the sound of a great wind and a light like a star in the sky.

And high above the jungle, flying like a bird, he saw a very old rhino. 

The next day he told his father  “Last night I saw an old rhino fly away.”

“It was just a dream son. No rhino will ever fly.” his father said. 

"Be grateful for the mud.”

The young rhino looked at the river then at the sky.

“Someday Father” he said  “…Someday I’ll learn to fly.”

Each day he ran with the herd but at night just before sleep he would watch the sky fill with birds, then lay down in the mud once more. 

And in his dreams he flew.

One day his father went into the jungle and didn’t return.

That night the young rhino heard the sound of a great wind and saw a light like a star in the sky.

And far above the jungle, following the light he saw his father…flying.

The young rhino ran and ran. “Father …father!’ he cried. 

But the mud was deep and he was heavy and soon the light faded.  

And his father flew away…forever.

The next day the elder gathered the herd  “One of us has gone to a new river where no one can follow.”

The herd grew quiet and stared at the dirt.

But the young rhino cried out.  “No! I saw him…he flew away.”

Then he whispered  “Someday I’ll learn to fly.”

The elders shook their heads and turned their backs.

And no one played or swam or even spoke to the young rhino ever again. 

Time passed but each day at dusk he would watch the birds flying high above.

And each night the young rhino would lay down in the mud and dream.

One night in a dream a Great Grey Bird descended from the sky.

It hovered just above and whispered  “There is only one way to fly.”

"Tell me” the rhino pleaded.  “Tell me…Please.” 

“Close your eyes and open your heart.”

“How?” the young rhino cried out. “How?”  

But the Great Grey bird spread its wings and rising called out-

“If you run with the herd...you will never learn to fly.”

The next day his mother found the young rhino at the river crying.

“Mama…’ he said.  “Will I ever learn to fly?’

His mother lowered her head and her voice broke- 

“If you don’t leave now…you never will.”

The young rhino nodded, kissed his mother then turned to go. And his mother’s tears fell into the river and mixed with the mud.

Each day alone in the jungle the rhino tried to follow the birds. But he was too slow and too heavy.  

Yet each night in his dreams he flew.

One night he awoke to the sound of men in the jungle. They were calling to each other.

One threw a net. But the rhino ran back toward the river and the herd.

“Run” he cried out  "…Run to the river.” 

And once more the rhino tried to fly but stumbled and fell.

And the herd far off, asleep in the mud, could not hear.

So the young rhino turned toward the men. He stood in their path and lowered his great horn. 

“Please” he whispered - “Please…tell me…how?” 

Then he closed his eyes, opened his heart … and charged. 

One after another struck him until the rhino fell to the ground. 

The men set upon him, broke his legs and cut away his great horn.

“There are others by the river. This one won’t run again. We’ll finish him up later.” 

The rhino cried out and tried to struggle to his feet but the weight and the wound were too great.

But somewhere deep inside, between the wound and the weight, he heard a sound. 

It was the sound of thousand broken wings beating against a great wind.

The sound rose into his throat and it’s cry rang high above the jungle and across the river.

“Flyyyyyyyy!” he cried out. “………fly”

Far off an elder stirred then listened closely.

‘Awake!’ he called. "Awake!”  And the herd rushed away to the safety beyond the river.

Alone and unable to move the young rhino knew he would never swim or play or run with the herd again. So he turned his gaze once more to the sky.

And as he did the Great Grey bird descended.  

“Please…” the young rhino whispered.

"Please…teach me.”

Drawing near, it touched one great grey wing to the wound.

And the rhino closed his eyes.

The dream was dark. There was no sky or birds…only the sound of a great wind.

But beneath it he heard the sound of men. One gently touched his wound and then his legs.

“Can we save him?”

“I don’t know....we can try."

"Fly him out...call the helicopter.”

Then the dream grew quiet.

And the young rhino felt something pull. It pulled at the weight in his heart. It pulled at the mud.

It pulled at everything that ever held him down.

It pulled and it pulled until it slowly pulled him free from the world below.

Above was a light like a star and the sound of a great wind.

Then slowly it lifted him high above the jungle, higher than any bird, far above the world of mud.

Below in the village the herd saw the light in the sky. 

And there far above them they saw the young rhino...the outcast that had saved them…flying.

His mother raised her head.  Then seeing her son felt her heart break…even as it flew to him. 

And she whispered "Someday."

High above the young rhino took one long last look at the world below, at the herd and at the mud. 

Then he turned his gaze to the sky and the light above. 

And the young rhino, happy at last, closed his eyes, opened his heart and finally…. flew away. 

Afterward

A few months ago I saw a 60 Minutes segment about poachers in a remote part of Africa. 

They trap rhinoceros, cut off their horns and sell them on the black market for exorbitant sums. Apparently the Chinese think the horns are an aphrodisiac.

A group of conservationists kept finding these animals but were unable to truck them out. 

Instead they opted to sedate them, blindfold them, attach chains and then helicopter them a few hundred miles back to their preserve. 

It’s a stunning sight, miraculous in a way, to see a rhinoceros flying thousands of feet in the air. 

And it struck a chord in me---something beneath the story that I recognized.

So I set out to write about the weight of living that we are all born to and what is required to rise above it.

I tried to tell a very adult tale simply, in the form of a children’s story. As such it is quite short. About 1100 words.

At its heart this is a story about yearning to become more...to rise above the weight of living. 

It is also about being transformed by sacrifice which I think is the only way to rise above yourself.

It is the only way to learn to fly.

Things I can’t answer show up in what I write. 

Stories become dream prayers…trying to answer questions some silent part of me can’t bear to ask aloud.

I also wrote some accompanying music. The music is much more about a man’s heart than a rhino’s…though it turns out they are not so different. 

Both are full of a kind of weight.  

And both long to fly.

WLM