Feathers

I was walking along the beach today with a gusty breeze at my back. I glanced a beautiful, long, thin, brown feather as the wind blew it past me. For a second I was tempted to chase it but thought; "No, if you are meant to have that feather, it will stop and you can pick it up..." so I watched it be carried by the wind. Sometimes it stopped, I got closer to the feather and thought it was going to be mine, but then a gust blew it farther away. I watched that feather get blown farther and further away, not wanting to let go of the hope that it would stop and I would have it after all. Then I sneezed, lost sight of the feather and knew I would never hold that feather in my hand and appreciate its beauty up close. With a little sadness and disappointment I walked to the place where I meditate often on the beach, and at the seat where I sit, there seemed to be more feathers in that one little area than I had ever noticed on the beach before. I didn't notice if they were beautiful because I was still thinking about the feather that I lost. I couldn't face sitting there with all those feathers so I turned around and walked into the stiff breeze back along the beach towards home. I saw so many feathers on the way home, different colours, some big, some small, some beautiful and not a single one travelling with the wind. Then I saw one beautiful, long, thin, brown feather stuck in the sand. I cried, partially because it reminded me of the feather that I had lost, but mainly because I knew deep down in my heart, now is not the time for me to be picking up feathers.