One winter afternoon, my commute was through the heavy snow and gusting winds of an Iowa blizzard. As I crawled down the highway at 45 mph, I saw two birds on the chain link fence that separates the park from the road.
The first was a red tailed hawk. He stood straight and tall on the fence post, scanning the snow for signs of prey. Only the flicker of tiny feathers gave any sign of the storm around him.
Not twenty feet away, a crow was clinging to the chain links. His feet were splayed and he was using his beak for extra support. Feathers were sticking out every which way as he tried to use his wings for protection from the storm.
I was immediately struck by the fact that they were both suffering from the same cold and snow. One wind, two very different birds. Something inside allowed one to stand tall while the other visibly floundered. How often to we assume that the person who is composed isn't going through the same troubles as the one who is visibly disheveled?
For years, I tried to develop the inner characteristics to look strong even when the world was trying to blow me over. To some extent I succeeded. I've learned a lot of control over my reactions. I'm not generally buffeted about little gusts like I was in my youth.
Still, sometimes I am the crow, showing every bit of my struggle to the world. I shared the story with my counselor decades later. He complimented me on my insight, but pointed out a lesson that I had missed. No matter how they looked in the process, the most important thing was that that were both hanging on.
