I am walking back to my room after having lunch with a couple from the retreat and see a lovely sight. Outside the window, amid palm trees and wood chips and exotic flowers, in a place forbidden to tourists, clambers a boy of about 5, intent on his task.
He is bent over, still for a second and then lurching forward, completely unaware that he has broached the demarcation line of civility - repeatedly crashing and crushing through the resort landscaping.
What is holding his attention is a lizard of unusual size. (Remember the ROUS-es from Princess Bride?) Well, not that big, but a pretty big one. Over and again - the lizard holds still and the boy lunges and the lizard springs away. I know for a fact that this boy is not going to catch this lizard. But HE does not know it and he keeps at it. The moment literally glows with his intent on the kill.
I think about this tow-headed kid and how we lose the ability to try the impossible. We scan our options and discount a whole bunch of them because, "I can't do that," or "I can't have that in my life." Maybe there are things we could do that elude us simply because we don't think we can.
I for one hope no one says to that boy, 'Get out of there. You can't be there. You can't catch that!" Let him go to sleep imagining the big one that got away and hoping for another go at it tomorrow.