Transcending Trouble

It may not feel like spring, but the year is on the turn - delicate crocuses have thrust their way through the iron-hard soil in my garden and the blackbirds have commenced building a nest in the ivy on the back wall.  Even without the external indicators, it is impossible not to think of renewal and growth - since last weekend I have been surrounded by eggs and images of chicks and ducklings.  To escape the traditional Easter chocolates, we had some eggs with small cardboard figurines inside, which grew crystalline “fur” and “feathers” once a solution was drawn up through the paper by capillary action and then evaporated.  

Outside, the roses are beginning to awake, small scarlet leaves sprouting from what only a couple of weeks ago looked like dead twigs (more capillary action as they begin drawing nutrients from the soil up through their stems).  Given the burgeoning new-life surrounding me, I would not have be overly surprised if a Phoenix had flown across the the garden on its pilgrimage to Heliopolis.  As it was, I had to make do with a sparrow-hawk, that settled on a branch near the bird-feeders, much to the concern of the blue tits.  An extraordinary sight in central London.

However, despite the signs that spring is finally on its way, the seemingly never-ending snow and cold is wearing.  Just like the grinding impact of the current economic environment within the UK - the austerity measures that have been introduced are impacting on all and some will feel it even more keenly as from today when major changes to the UK benefits and tax system are introduced ( http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-21865942 ).  We need to be resilient - both in and outside work.  No wonder I have been thinking of the Phoenix - the mythical bird that rises from ashes to thrive.  It is perhaps the archetypal symbol of resilience.  Interestingly, like many resurrection legends, the myth of a bird that is reborn after cremation is a global phenomenon - although the story and the attributes of the bird itself vary slightly from continent to continent.   

Phoenix depicted in 12th century Aberdeen Bestiary

The Phoenix is universally depicted as a solitary and wonderful bird.  In Western Europe we usually think of the Phoenix as described by Ovid:

"Most beings spring from other individuals; but there is a certain kind which reproduces itself.  The Assyrians call it the Phoenix.  It does not live on fruit or flowers, but on frankincense and odiferous gums.  When it has lived five hundred years, it builds itself a nest in the branches of an oak, or on the top of a palm tree.  In this it collects cinnamon, and spikenard, and myrrh, and of these materials builds a pile on which it deposits itself, and dying, breathes out its last breath amidst odours.  From the body of the parent bird, a young Phoenix issues forth, destined to live as long as its predecessor.  When this has grown up and gained sufficient strength, it lifts its nest from the tree (its own cradle and its parent's sepulchre), and carries it to the city of Heliopolis in Egypt, and deposits it in the temple of the Sun."

Belgian €10 coin to commemorate 60 years of peace in Europe

and Tacitus adds to this:

"The first care of the young bird as soon as fledged, and able to trust to his wings, is to perform the obsequies of his father. But this duty is not undertaken rashly. He collects a quantity of myrrh, and to try his strength makes frequent excursions with a load on his back. When he has gained sufficient confidence in his own vigour, he takes up the body of his father and flies with it to the altar of the Sun, where he leaves it to be consumed in flames of fragrance."

Ancient Egyptians revered a Phoenix-like bird called the Benu, whose name means "to rise".  In appearance it resembled a heron or stork with long legs and it was associated with the Sun god.  There is speculation that the myth of the bird rising from ashes originated from people observing flamingoes in East Africa - they live on salt flats, where the searing heat is too severe for eggs to survive if laid on the ground.  The birds build high mounds on which to raise their offspring.  Although the knoll-top is marginally cooler than the parched surface below, the shimmer of heat around the hillocks can resemble smoke and give the semblance of fire.  Flamingoes are part of the family Phoenicopteridae, from the generic name Phoenicopterus or "phoenix winged".

In Chinese mythology the Phoenix, called the Feng-huang or Fung, which translates as the "vermillion bird" or the "substance of flame", was the symbol of the Empress (usually when depicted in conjunction with the Emperor's dragon). It is formed of various elements and is highly symbolic - its pheasant's head with a cock's comb symbolises the sun, its back (supposedly that of a swallow) represents the moon, its wings are the wind, its tail the flowers and trees and its feet the earth.  In addition it is used to represent the five virtues - its comb is for righteousness, its tongue utters sincerity and, according to ancient Chinese ritual, 

"its voice chants melody, its ear enjoys music, its heart conforms to regulations, its breast contains the treasures of literature, and its spurs are powerful against transgressors" 

Chinese embroidery of a Phoenix, c1860

It is not just in oriental mythology that the Phoenix is used to symbolise ideals.  In the West the Phoenix has been used both as a image for renewal and immortality and also to depict the “exceptional man”.  For much of the past month I have been researching one such person, Sir Ernest Shackleton.  I will be presenting him as a case study on leadership at an executive development programme at the end of this month.  

One of the things that made Shackleton an exceptional leader was his ability to adapt and change his plans when the situation demanded it.  His initial mission was to walk across Antarctica but, once it was clear that that goal was impossible, he embraced the new challenge of getting his 27 companions safely back to civilisation.  He focused entirely on the new objective, even ordering his men to abandon scientific equipment (such as microscopes and tools for collecting specimens) that was heavy and cumbersome to transport.  He involved his men in decision making, kept the potential trouble makers close to him (even sharing the same tent) and was creative in devising solutions to obstacles.  I believe that part of the reason for his success was that he demonstrated almost indefatigable focus and energy to achieve his goal.  His commitment and his mens’ trust in his intention and efforts to get them home safely must have inspired the weaker men to keep going.  According to witnesses at the time he never expressed any doubt - it is only later, on reading his personal diary, that it is clear that he had some concerns.  On the destruction of his ship, the Endurance, by pack ice, he commented to the men

"Ship and stores have gone - so now we'll go home."

but in his diary he wrote, 

" a man must shape himself to a new mark directly the old one goes to ground, I pray God, I can manage to get the whole party to civilisation."

Like Tacitus' Phoenix, Shackleton applied himself to the task ahead.  He overcame daunting obstacles and distances, to achieve his objectives and care for his men.  He epitomises the Japanese Phoenix, a symbol of fortitude, rectitude and fidelity. 

Phoenix, Image from Imari Porcelain ware
Photo courtesy Nihon Toji Taikei magazine, Vol. 19 (Imari Ware)

So, as you admire the scarlet leaves of the roses, challenging the cold and commencing regrowth for this year, contemplate their flame-coloured sprouts and be inspired by Shackleton and the Phoenix...

(but don't symbolically give them wood ash to encourage them.  Roses prefer acidic soil and hence are more likely to appreciate coffee grounds to perk them up.) 

young rose leaves

Embroidered silk panel with Phoenix

L Plates

Today is my birthday; it is also the day when cities around the globe are celebrating Earth Hour at 8.30pm.  The movement has become international since its inaugural event in Sydney in 2007.  Earth Hour, sponsored by the World Wildlife Fund, is an annual event aimed at uniting support for the environment and spreading awareness of  energy usage.  It is seen as a means of expressing a desire for a sustainable and better future for all.  If you want to know more click on http://earthhour.wwf.org.uk/  or to see the lights going out in cities around the world try  http://www.earthhour.org/  
How wonderful to know that my special day will involve candles being lit across the globe.

I must confess to waking this morning and thinking “Oh L” – not just because it was 5.30 am (and I needed to get up to drive across England, through vile snow, sleet and strong winds, to fetch my youngest son), but also because today is a milestone birthday for me.  L is the Roman numeral for fifty.  I have had a wonderful half century and I am really looking forward to the years to come.  There is some truth in Confucius' words in the The Analects (or Lun-yii 論語, a slim anthology of memorable epigrams defining the moral code by which Confucius felt every person should live): 

“At 15, I set my heart on learning.  At 30 I know where I stand (my character has been formed). At 40, I have no more doubts, at 50, I know the will of Heaven, at 60 my ears are attuned (i.e. my moral sense is well-developed), at 70, I follow my heart’s desire without crossing the line (without breaking moral principles).” 

Confucius

Confucius was appointed Minister of Public Security in his home state at the age of 50.  His words “know the will of Heaven” therefore can be interpreted to mean that he now knows the correct way to govern or manage, in accordance with Heaven’s mandate.  However, I suspect that it is broader that that and implies that he knows who he is, is comfortable with his personal values and goals and is able to behave and approach life with confidence.  I can concur with that - I know who I am and what I view as morally right or wrong.  It does not mean that I can and will stop learning, it is simply that I now have a firm foundation on which to ground my thinking and future growth.

Oak tree roots provide a strong foundation and stretch as far below as the tree stands above ground

As I drove on my quinquagenary (an over lengthy way of saying my 50th anniversary!), I contemplated the new number in my life.  In many ways it is an important one.  Here are some facts associated with fifty:

• mathematically 50 is significant and a number that brains better and faster than mine like to play with.  It is a Harshad number - so it is divisible by the sums of its digits when written in that base.

• "Harshad" comes from the Sanskrit "Harsa" (meaning Joy) and "Da" (To Give) - so Harshad translates as joy-giver, which doubtles it is for many mathematicians.  As an aside, you might like to know that there are 50 letters in the Sanskrit alphabet.

• I do like the symmetry of the fact that   1 + 3 + 5 + 7 + 9 + 9 + 7 + 5 + 3 + 1 = 50 and that 50 is the sum of three consecutive squares: 50=(3x3)+(4x4)+(5x5). 

• Did you know that the moon is 50 times smaller than the earth?

• In the year 50AD the Romans founded Londinium in Britain (and I enjoy living in London today)

• I pondered the power of fifty as a compelling word in a title, we often have books and programmes about " The Top 50..." and it even wields its power in the name of the book "50 Shades of Grey" – the bonk-buster by EL James, that seemed to hit an erotic chord with so many in 2011 (I suspect that it could as easily be a description of the majority of its readers’ lingerie drawer contents)

• There is the 50 Moves rule in Chess, that enables a draw

• The Chinese have long venerated the number and there are fifty sticks, all the same length, that are used in the consultation of the I Ching.  Perhaps I should symbolically cast a reading for my future on this day as doubless to do so would be auspicious!

• The chemical element Tin has an atomic number of 50 (50 protons and 50 electrons).  Tin is one of the Seven Metals of the Alchemists – famous for trying to turn metal into gold.

An Alchemist in his Workshop,” by David Teniers II, depicts alchemy in the 17th century

• 50 has strong associations with gold (am I a golden oldie?) – a golden anniversary is the celebration of 50 years and Jason had 50 Argonauts with him when he went on a quest across the Black Sea in search of the Golden Fleece - a topic I covered in a former post http://kategl.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/going-for-gold.html

So many things to ponder in relation to the number 50 and doubtless there are so many other facts I have forgotten, never knew and have yet to learn.

So, returning to Confucius, his Analects are based on the belief that that life should be lived in an ethical manner (he saw politics as an extension of morals - an approach that seems to have been lost by some politicians and civil servants in the corridors of Whitehall, Brussels and Washington) and he founded his principles on the importance of wisdom, self-knowledge, courage and love of one's fellow man.  He argued that virtue should be every individual's supreme goal.  Earth Day is based on a desire for a better future for ourselves and those to come; I am sure Confucius would have approved of the concept and the actions - to be in the dark for a while as a means of gaining longer-lasting light and life.

A bit like attaining knowledge...

So, to L with it – I will never be too old to Learn…

and there is so much more to life than meets the eye.

Black and White

Have you ever tried to get a Macadamia out of its shell?  They are quite literally “a tough nut to crack”, having the hardest casing of all nuts, requiring 300 lbs per square inch to break them.  In addition to the actual kernel, the shells have a hidden surprise, once you finally get into them their inside is smooth and shiny and split into two distinct parts, one portion dark and the other light.  I thought of Macadamia nuts this week, when the Cardinals were locked in the Sistine Chapel during the papal conclave and the world waited for black or white smoke.

Macadamia nuts

Black smoke rising from the Vatican's Sistine Chapel papal chimney 

As the process for the election of a new Pope demonstrates, much of what we do is determined by customs and regulation.  Today I had the pleasure of attending a roundtable discussion hosted by the Training Journal in partnership with learndirect.  It was to consider the report Lord Leitch produced for the UK Government in 2006, outlining what (in his opinion) needed to be done to make the skills of the UK workforce among the best in the world by 2020.  This year marks the midpoint toward that goal and it was sobering to contemplate the progress to date.  In case you have forgotten (or never knew) his proposals, in essence they were for:

·         95% of adults to achieve functional literacy and numeracy

·         More than 90% of adults to be qualified to at least level 2 (i.e. competence that involves the application of knowledge in a significant range of varied work activities, performed in a variety of contexts. Collaboration with others, perhaps through membership of a work group or team, is often a requirement. At British comprehensive schools, Level 2 is equivalent to one GCSE at A*-C )

·         A raising of the average rank of intermediate skills in the adult population from level 2 to level 3

·         More than 40% of adults to be qualified to level 4 and above (level 4 translates as competence that involves the application of knowledge in a broad range of complex, technical or professional work activities performed in a variety of contexts and with a substantial degree of personal responsibility and autonomy. Responsibility for the work of others and the allocation of resources is often present.)

The world has changed a lot since 2006, not least because of the global banking and financial crisis.  Lord Leitch’s aspirations and recommendations in the Review remain admirable, for example for employers to voluntarily commit to train all eligible employees up to level 2 in the workplace.  However, the financial constraints on many UK businesses have meant that they have had other issues to focus on, such as remaining viable in challenging times.  Many organisations have been forced into being quite short-term in outlook over the past few years.

However, this time, when many are unable to commit time and resources to skills training, is perhaps an opportune moment for us to consider the actual skills we need.

The “skills” we are encouraged to develop within the work environment are dependent on rigidly defined stages of attainment, utilised in our education system and prescribed for vocational training purposes.  I do wonder whether some of the hoops we are making people leap through are actually giving them what they need.  When I was at school we were taught to use a slide rule in maths – I’m not sure I could easily solve a problem with one now, but I doubt if I will ever need to.  The advent of sophisticated calculators has made them redundant.  I studied for two years for my A Levels and then had a few hours in which to regurgitate some of the knowledge stored inside me, in response to questions in the exam.  Was my actual capability in applying the knowledge I had being assessed or my ability to remember things?  Google and other search engines mean that I can get information swiftly about almost any topic – my memory is less important than my capacity to find appropriate facts and to apply what I discover to solve actual problems and inform decisions.  In my current work environment I need to be able to plan strategically, budget against the plan, inspire others to work with me to achieve defined objectives and ensure that all that has to be done is attained in a timely and efficient manner.  Is my law degree an obvious indicator of my possessing these skills, except in the most simplistic form of demonstrating that I can devise answers to exam questions and write them down within the time prescribed?

The world moves on and we need to progress with it.  How can we best equip and assess individuals for the actual skills they will need in working life?  I do not dispute the value of literacy and numeracy, but the conventional command and control approach of, for example, reciting the dates of kings and queens by rote seems unnecessary and outdated.  We need to work with schools and educational establishments to explain the skills that are and will be valuable in the workplace.  Futurists say that the future is collaboration and project focused – where and how can we best foster and see these traits demonstrated?  

There isn’t one easy solution – life isn’t black and white and the way of training and assessing the skills required for the future remains, like the Macadamia, a hard nut to crack...

Mr John Waldron cracking Macadamia nuts in Australia 1957
(Photo: People Magazine, State Library of Queensland & John Oxley Library; #7719-0001-0003)

Cracking Macadamia nuts

People Count

“People Count” was the motto my uncle, Sir Christopher Collett, devised when elected to become Lord Mayor of London for the 800^th year of The Mayoralty in 1989.  He was an inspirational, compassionate, humble, intelligent and successful man, across so many spheres – a leading accountant in what became E&Y, a respected City of London dignitary, a commendable ambassador for his profession and country, a tireless charity backer and focused project sponsor who got things done.  He leaves an admirable legacy: throughout his life he worked with others to ensure that objectives were achieved for the benefit of many (including supporting homes for the elderly across the UK, providing community services such as a sports hall and other facilities in his loved Langholm in Scotland, establishing a charity to support young people and rescuing a national monument, Temple Bar by Sir Christopher Wren, that has been returned to a prime location near St Paul’s Cathedral in London).  His choice of slogan was apt – to him, in every way people did count.  Those of us who knew him appreciated what a special man he was.  He died last December and his memorial service was held on Valentine’s Day – a fitting date for a man much loved and who cared so deeply for others.

Temple Bar, gateway designed by Sir Christopher Wren 1669-1672

I am often asked who has influenced me or been my mentor.  I flounder slightly when trying to respond, as I have learned so much from so many.  However, there are a few who stand out.  Having spent considerable time, over the months since his death, contemplating “Uncle Chrissa”, as I called him, I have begun to appreciate how indebted I am to him.  How sad that it is only now that he has gone that I am genuinely beginning to realise how important he was.  I learned some fundamental truths from him – he lived by his values and family always came first.  There is a story I heard at the Guildhall of his missing an important City of London function, to attend an event at his eldest son’s school, the then Lord Mayor summoned him, to berate him for not doing his civic duty, and told him that “The City must always come first”.  My uncle calmly replied that, if that was the case, he would have to resign with immediate effect from his Guild responsibilities and cease being involved in Mansion House matters, as his family would always be his primary priority.  The Mayor, realising that he risked losing a great man’s support, was forced to back down and from that day onwards Chris successfully juggled the various aspects of his life.

Lord Mayor of London's golden coach

We, as a whole, were a close family, indeed my cousins were the nearest I had to siblings for the first decade of my life.  My father and Christopher had met when they did their National Service and formed a strong bond – after they had finished, they took a road trip across Europe on a pair of slightly unreliable motorbikes, then went on to study at Emanuel College Cambridge, where they forged a close group of friends who have lasted them a lifetime.  Christopher met my father’s sister, Anne, and fell in love.  Their marriage is the one I use as my benchmark for how married life should be: loving, supportive, fun and with sufficient mutual respect that either could challenge the other, in a gentle and caring manner, for the benefit of each and those around them.

Emanuel College, Cambridge

We lived on a hill and Christopher and Anne bought a wonderful house that was literally at the bottom of our garden.  I have happy memories of tobogganing, starting from outside my backdoor and whooshing all the way through our garden (with a tricky turn by the bamboo), through the narrow gate, that Chris had created to connect us, onwards down the steep, but straight, path that lead to my cousins’ house.  Nostalgia can induce a golden glow, but these were truly happy times.  Every Christmas my uncle would organise carol singing round our neighbourhood, to raise money for a local old people’s home, and we always ended the evening singing for and with the elderly for whom we were collecting, which all of us loved.  My sons now follow his example and we sing annually, a chance to do something meaningful with friends and to raise money for charities where we live.  Chris knew how to bring joy to others through simple actions and by being thoughtful.

My parents moved to Hong Kong when I was a child, but I had been enrolled in boarding school and so my aunt and uncle became my guardians.  I lived with them at half term and for parts of the holidays.  I was very privileged in that I was a loved member of two families.  Being with Chris I was able to experience what it was like to serve the community through a role in the City of London.  My uncle was a member of the Worshipful Company of Glovers and rose to be Master from 1981-1982, as well as Sheriff for London in 1985, a precursor to becoming Lord Mayor.  Since 1385, when the Court of Common Council stipulated that every future Lord Mayor should “have previously been Sheriff so that he may be tried as to his governance and bounty before he attains to the Estate of Mayor”, the shrieval year of an Aldermanic Sheriff is an obligatory trial run for would-be Lord Mayors of London.  I wonder if the UK or some companies would be better governed if potential PMs, Chancellors or senior executives had to prove their metal in a public role before taking up office.  Chris took his duties seriously and did much to enhance the community in which he served.  He had a knack of getting people to become enthused by his passion, so that, before they fully appreciated it, they had committed to help in a given project or task. I am sure that this is how he succeeded in getting Temple Bar back to London, with the eventual cost being borne by The Corporation of London, even though it was not technically the Corporation’s responsibility.  Chris was Chairman of the Temple Bar Trust from 1993 – 2004 and orchestrated the donation of Temple Bar to the Corporation in 2001.

Sir Christopher Collett, GBE

The pomp and grandeur of City functions was amazing – such beautiful settings, wonderful meals and a joy to be able to see and appreciate parts of London that only a few get to experience.  The sound of the trumpets in the Mansion House lives within me, as does the laughter of the children at the annual Mansion House Children’s Party, a wonderful event primarily for children from underprivileged backgrounds – the annual party was something my uncle remained involved with long after he ceased being an official.  Children loved being with him – he was always relaxed, natural and fun and he clearly enjoyed their company too.  As a teenager I learned skills, such as how to peel a grape at dinner using a knife and fork, and when and how to wear gloves on a formal occasion, talents that I will seldom use, but the reasons behind them and the experiences of doing them were not lost on me.  There is a tradition in The City of an after dinner Loving Cup – a long-established way of showing fealty and sharing a memorable event with others.  The symbolism of guarding colleagues’ backs, whilst they are occupied with a task in hand, has stuck with me. 

Mansion House dinner, City of London

Away from work and The City, Chris taught me how to relax and appreciate the wider world.  Both families used to holiday in Scotland most summers; precious memories of standing thigh-deep in a river, the sky fading from amethyst to dark mushroom, waiting for sea trout at dusk, with the midges swarming around us.  Fresh caught oatmeal-ed trout for breakfast – truly delicious (better than any mansion House dinner).  My uncle and I both learned to dry fly fish in England, with Dermot Wilson on the river Test.  Chris was surprisingly competitive – by challenging me to do better than him, he helped give me confidence and to teach me to persevere.  With him (and also my father, who still has the best cast of any man I know), I gained skills that eventually enabled me to found and run a fly fishing school to finance me through university.  I still find being on a river bank, with bob of a dipper or wagtail in the corner of my eye and the splash of a fish, can stir my soul.  And when I fish I can almost feel Chris with me.

Through his example, my uncle has encouraged me to:

• be practical;
• accept the support of those who love me;
• keep things simple;
• act according to my principles;
• enlist support through enthusiasm;
• care for those with me; and
• appreciate the wonderful things around me. 

I can be accused of being partisan, however, I know that he was an exceptional man, who himself counted for and contributed so much to so many people.  I am so glad that my sons had a chance to spend a little time with him, before he succumbed to the illness that eventually killed him.  I am so lucky to have had him as a significant influence on me and my life (he died on 2^nd December last year and he has left a huge hole for our family, his friends, the communities in which he lived and worked and also the wider arena).  People do count and some count for more than others.  

Reaching New Heights

This is for those who are struggling with change, for individuals with potential (but who may not even realise it), for those who have been told “It’s impossible” and/or who have been derided for their vision and understanding, for people who aren’t sure whether they fit in and those who wish to help any of them, as well as for my children and god-daughter…  It is my last day in South Africa, so it seems apt to tell you a traditional African tale that was told to me while I was here:

It was a hot summer and the frequent afternoon storms were welcome, as they helped to ease the searing heat and dampened down the dust.  However, the violence of the thunder and the flashing tongues of lightening could be terrifying, as indeed they must have been that day, for the cattle and the herd boys returned to the village in haste leaving one calf behind.  The farmer took up his staff and strolled out into the bush to search for the missing animal.  

He hunted in the valley: he looked along the river bed, amongst the reeds and by the stones; he searched in the scrubby undergrowth and by the gnarled trees where the guinea fowl pecked and scraped, almost invisible amongst the dappled shadows; he looked in the dry rustling grass, standing higher than his chest, and then he climbed the rocky mountain, calling and calling for his beast.  He wondered if it had taken shelter from the storm in a deep fracture that cut into the hill side, slicing up towards the summit.  Slowly he climbed, watching and calling.  His attention was caught by a small patch of white on a ledge of rock and, making his way towards it, he was surprised to find a small eagle chick, less than a couple of days old, huddled forlornly by itself, presumably blown from its nest during the storm. The farmer reached out and gently picked it up.  Cradling it to the warmth of his chest, he turned back towards the village and, on his way home he determined to keep the bird and care for it.

As he arrived back at his house, his children ran to greet him and to say that the calf had returned.  Pleased at the news, he gently opened his hands and showed them the fledgling.  They took the eaglet back to their home and placed the young bird with a broody hen that was only too happy to have a small chick to care for.  As the eagle grew it learned the ways of the hens, pecking at scraps and scratching in the dust for tasty beetles and other good things to eat. Although clearly different from the chickens, the eagle seemed happy enough and people from other villages, when they came to trade, used to stare at the strange bird scraping in the dust with the other fowl. 

One of the farmer’s friends, whom he had not seen for a while, came to visit and the two men sat on the step at the door of the house, chatting and watching the world go by.  The friend noticed the strange bird pecking with the hens and said in surprise, “That’s not a chicken it’s an eagle!”

The farmer smiled and said, “That can’t be so…look, it pecks like a chicken, it walks like a chicken, it eats like a chicken, it thinks like a chicken, so it must be a chicken.”

But his friend would not believe him.  “I will prove to you that it’s an eagle.” He said.

“If you wish…you can try to”, nodded the farmer.

Not deterred by the sharp talons and beak, the friend walked over and picked up the bird and then tried to throw it up into the air to make it fly.  It flapped a little in surprise at being caught and handled, but then, seeing the hens docilely pecking, it contentedly landed back on the ground and continued to scratch amongst the chickens, looking for food.

“I told you it was a chicken,” chortled the farmer.

The next morning the friend returned.  “I will prove to you that this is not a chicken but an eagle” he said and he asked one of the farmer’s sons to fetch him a ladder.

The farmer only laughed and again said “It pecks like a chicken, it walks like a chicken, it eats like a chicken, it thinks like a chicken, so it must be a chicken.”

The friend took the large bird under his arm and, with difficulty, climbed with it up the ladder into the branches of a tree that grew beside the hut.  However, no sooner had he released his grasp, with the intention of persuading the bird to fly, than it flapped free from him and landed back amongst the chickens, where it recommenced pecking in the dust.  The farmer and his family all laughed.

However, the very next day, when it was still dark, the farmer’s dogs began barking and the farmer heard a voice calling gently for him outside the hut.  Rising, he found his friend standing outside with a lantern.  “Please give me one more chance to prove that the bird is an eagle, he said.

Are you mad?”asked the farmer.  “It’s not even light yet.”

“Trust me,” said his friend, “I have an idea.  Bring the bird.”

Grudgingly the farmer fetched the large bird from beside the hearth, where it had been roosting comfortably among the chickens.  Wrapping his cloak around him, he followed his friend out into the dark.

“Where are we going?” the farmer asked.

“Back to the mountain, where you found the bird.”

“But it’s dark and the path is steep.  Shouldn’t we go when it’s daylight?”

“No,” replied his friend, “We must take the eagle to see the sun as it rises in the mountains, so that it is inspired to be in the sky, where it belongs.”

The two men went through the valley, crossing the river, passing the reeds, the tree and the long grass.  Tired the heavy bird remained cradled in the farmer’s arms.  The sky was just turning from star sprinkled dark to pale grey as they started climbing the fissure.  They reached the ledge where the chick had been found just as the sky became pearlescent and then tinged with pink.  They could just make out the line of the river winding like a serpent through the grasslands.  The friend relieved the farmer of the burdensome bird and urged him to hurry, as he climbed still higher up the mountain.  The route was steep and treacherous, with narrow ledges and dangerous shale.  Both men were panting as they stepped out onto a flat outcrop and the friend signaled that they could stop.  Close to the summit, the land stretched out below them with the lines of dark forest meeting the grassland of the savannah just visible in the opalescent, pre-dawn light.

The friend gently placed the eagle on a ledge facing the east and began talking to it.

The farmer laughed “Don’t be daft,” he said, “It can only speak chicken.”

The friend ignored him and continued to talk to the bird.  He told it that the sun was coming and that the sun gives life and warmth to all things on earth.

“When you see the sun, Eagle, you must rise with it.  You belong with it up in the sky, not down on the earth.”

And as he was speaking the first golden rays of dawn blazed out over the mountain and the land was flooded with light.

All was still and the big bird remained crouched on the ledge staring ahead at the blazing light rising slowly up into the sky.  Then, the bird leisurely stretched its wings.

Again the friend whispered, “You belong with it up in the sky, not down on the earth, fly Eagle, fly.”

Nothing moved but the bird could feel the air of the updraught from the valley below catching slightly on the underside of its pinions.

Then, very slowly the bird leaned forwards, catching the air beneath its wings and, suddenly, it was off the ledge and soaring out into the air over the land below.  Then it turned in the thermal currents and allowed itself to be swept upwards, rising higher and higher until it was a speck against the blazing backdrop of the sun and then it could be seen no more.

Dare to "fly" and be what you can and should be…