The Parable of Flight

Flight

by Bruce Younggreen
© 1977,2003

In a small cottage in a tiny hamlet at the top of a mountain lived a marvelously gifted craftsman. Diligently he would labor over the various intricate parts of his projects. Everything he fashioned was made with love, ingenuity and clever imagination.

Each piece of wood and bit of paper, each bead of glue, and each brush stroke was painstakingly and carefully designed. Yet, to look at the pieces laid side-by-side on his work bench, it was impossible to see what they would make, or even if they could be assembled together. One day the craftsman collected an assortment of pieces of wood, paper, string, and other materials and set them apart by themselves.

"At last we're going to become something!" they whispered among themselves. "I wonder what we'll become? Maybe a child's toy? Or an elegant jewelry box? Maybe we'll be a beautiful lantern or a clever puzzle!" they chattered.

Noting that there were both pieces of wood and pieces of paper among them, one of the pieces suggested, "I know! We are going to become a kite!"

"A kite!" they chorused together. "Oh, that's wonderful! The kites that our master makes are the best kites ever made. They fly faster, climb higher, are prettier and more clever than other kites. And we're going to be one of the best ever, too! Wait and see!"

"I wonder how we'll learn to fly?" pondered one piece.

"What do you mean?" asked another.

"Well, look at us. Can anyone here fly?"

"You silly," chided another piece. "Of course we can't fly now, but wait until we're joined together! Then we'll be able to fly."

"Do you mean to tell me," posed the first piece, "that alone I'm held here on the table by gravity, but that together we become lighter than air?"

"Well, yes.... Sort of," countered the second, somewhat less confidently than before.

"Don't worry about it. We'll just do it. You'll see!" added another piece. "Wait and see!"

As the days went by, the pieces began to take shape. Day by day the hope, the excitement, the determination grew. Day by day the craftsman worked. Day by day the pieces assumed their proper places. Day by day the whispers flew, "We're becoming a kite!"

Then, one day, the obvious that they had all been ignoring had to be acknowledged. They were not becoming a kite! Instead, they were taking the shape of a boat!

"A boat!?" they cried! "What ever could the master want with a boat?" This was mountain top, not a lake! There wasn't enough water for a boat. "What is he going to do? Throw us down into a well? Of all the things he has ever made, are we going to be the most useless?"

"What right do you have to make us into a boat?" demanded the angry, half-finished boat. "Don't you know that we wanted to be a kite?" But the craftsman just kept putting pieces together as if he hadn't heard.

In anger and rebellion, the pieces tried to change their locations, but the glue held strong and the boat kept taking shape. One night, a breeze through the open window caught a half-finished mast. A sail filled with air and it danced for a brief moment before crashing to the floor. Nursing it's wounds, it was heard to mutter, "See? I knew we could have been a kite!" The following morning, the craftsman picked up the stubborn mast. Carefully he repaired and renewed it. Then he secured it to the hull.

Decks, bulkheads, bridge, masts, rigging. Piece by piece the boat became more and more complete. The one day, the craftsman glued the final piece in place. He sat back and admired his work. The boat glanced across the room at the mirror and assessed itself.

"Good!" murmured the craftsman. "You are very good!"

"Yecch!" murmured the boat. "My hull is incomplete, if you ask me!"

"I didn't," said the craftsman quietly.

"And my sails aren't right either," continued the boat. "They're at an awfully odd angle, I think."

"Tell me, work of my hands, do you believe that you are a boat?" asked the craftsman.

"Hrumph!" replied the boat. "Just exactly what else would I be?"

"How about a kite?" the craftsman suggested.

"Surely you jest!" the boat mocked.

"Not I," said the craftsman. "To me, you are a kite."

"What good is that to me?" asked the boat. "I'm still sitting here, am I not? I'm still bound by the laws of gravity. I still look like a boat. How can I be a kite?"

"And you always shall be bound by the laws of gravity. You are heavier than air. That's just the way you are. But... if I say you are a kite, then you are a kite."

"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed the boat. "Anyone can see that I'm a boat!"

"Now look here," said the craftsman. "First you decided to make yourself into a kite. Then you challenged my right to make you as I see fit. Now, you're telling me I don't know what I have made! You would be so much happier if you would simply believe me and see what I will do."

The boat thought about that. After a pause, it replied, "Ok." To himself, however, he thought, "But I still look like a boat."

"You still think you look like a boat, don't you, Kite?" asked the craftsman. Surprised, the boat nodded. "I want you to know that you are a kite. Here, take this string."

"What do I do with this?" asked the boat.

"Hang onto it. Don't let it go, for it connects you to me."

"That sort of makes me your prisoner, doesn't it?" asked the boat.

"Yes," answered the craftsman. "Isn't that Ok? Aren't you mine?"

"I thought kites were supposed to fly and soar and be as free as birds!"

"They are. You will be. Hang onto the string." The boat reluctantly took the string. "Relax, Kite," said the craftsman. "Don't be so sardonic. Just believe what I've told you. You are a kite!"

With that, he picked up the boat and carried him outside. A gentle breeze was blowing. The sails filled. The hull felt suddenly lighter. Inside the cottage, he had seemed to be top-heavy, listing to one side. Now, he seemed to right and steady himself effortlessly.

Then, with a gentle tug against the string the craftsman had given him, the boat began to float upwards! He was flying! He really was a kite! How wonderful! How utterly sublime!

"I'm a kite! I'm a kite! Whoopee! I can fly!" As the thrill of flight took over, the kite began to notice how much the string was tugging in his clutch. "Silly old string," he muttered. "I cold fly so much better if it wasn't holding me back." So saying, he let go of the string.

Instantly he began to fall. Worse, he began to tumble. Down, down he came! Faster and faster the ground swept up at him! "Help! Help!" he screamed. The craftsman realized immediatly what had happened and was already running with all his strength. As the kite plummeted to earth and certain destruction, the craftsman made a heroic dive, catching the kite at the last moment and then twisting, falling to ground on his back with a bone-jarring thud.

Back in the cottage, he made numerous repairs to the kite. The kite looked at his master, bruised and bloodied, and he was silent, ashamed. When the craftsman finished, the kite was a good as new, maybe even better. He lifted the kite up.

"Well, Kite! Do you believe me?"

"I know I'm a kite!"

"What about the string?"

"I'm going to hang on!"

"Does it restrict your freedom to fly?"

"No, I think I see that it gives me freedom."

"Do you realize that you are always going to be bound by gravity?"

"Always?"

"Always. You fell didn't you?"

"Yes, but...." The kite was silent for a moment, thinking about what happened. "...Then, how did I fly?"

"You didn't fly. I flew you. The string is connected to me. As long as I am holding you, so that the wind can fill your sails, you will fly. That floppy little string is your strength and power. Sever the connection to me, and the string becomes as weak and shifting as sand. That is the law of aviation. As long as you are obeying the law of aviation, you are no longer under the law of gravity. The law of gravity is still there, but the law of aviation is stronger. Lose your grip on what looks like a foolish and floppy string, and the law of gravity is waiting for you, ready to take control of you and dash you to pieces."

"If you are willing," said the kite, "I'm ready to let you fly me again."

"Of course I'm willing!" replied the craftsman as he headed back outside with the kite.