A certain story is told of a turtle who dreamed of flying. He always gazed with envy at the birds above him that at his utter desperation, he finally asked two sparrows to lift him up the sky so that he could, at least, know the feel of soaring in the air.
The sparrows, pitying the turtle agreed. He held on to the two birds and the sparrows, with all the strength they could muster lifted him up to the sky. The turtle was ecstatic. He's finally flying. He closed his eyes and memorized the scent of the air and the freedom of having no gravity. He was crazed of the idea of flying that he thought that if he just let go, he'd also learn how to fly. He broke free from the sparrows and ended up falling down. Back down to the lonely earth he was a part of.
. . . . . . .
With much contemplation, I realized that turtles will never learn how fly. His many flaws prevent him from doing so. His shell for example. He would've been lighter if he let it go before holding on to the sparrows. But letting go of comfort is never easy. Second, he could have attached himself to the birds more firmly by tying a rope for example. Or he could've just stayed on the ground, contented at looking at the distant birds and save himself from the hassle of flying.
It made me rethink my life. If I was the turtle, would I also risk my life for that short-lived moment of flying? Or just sit there, watching the birds do what I've always dreamed of?