fences

The bear paces behind the fence at Wild Life Images [www.wildlifeimages.org- an amazing place, check it out]. Is he content? He’s healthy; he probably doesn’t remember ever experiencing a life different than this, at least not one in the wild. But… he’s still a bear. Somewhere inside of him, doesn’t some wild instinct and wisdom flow through his body? Maybe at night in slumber he dreams of life in the wild. Is he content here? Maybe not, but he’s happy--- or, it could be the opposite--- maybe he’s content but somehow unhappy. He has no pressing problems, other than the fence surrounding him and the people staring at him, but somehow, he knows he doesn’t belong there.

You tell me being content is like being perfect. Normally I agree with you, sometimes you even change what I think or believe. But I think being content is a condition that can only rarely be achieved. I will achieve it. Perfection will never happen because we will always set our standards higher than we can reach. But happiness, being content with life, if that can’t be reached, that’s terrible. That’s a winter so long that you never get to witness the green that makes you appreciate the rain. That’s a summer so long that you never get to watch the leaves change color. That’s static.

It’s not even that I’m not content. It’s not that I’m unhappy. Somewhere inside of me I know I’m meant for more. Like the instincts run through the bear and give him dreams of mountains and forests without fences, purpose runs through me. I’ve always felt it, only I’m just now giving it the chance to speak. I’m listening to the voice. I don’t know where it will lead me. There are almost unlimited possibilities. I won’t pace behind a fence all my life. I won’t be static. I will watch seasons change.