=1 "Who is that fish?"
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Who is that fish?
The well-adjusted fish was content to swim along with the school... always horizontally, this way and that... never questioning the viscosity of the medium in which it moved... never wondering if a thinner air could be found on the other side of the surface.
The maladjusted fish (bored fish), however, found it difficult to swim always along with the school... always horizontally, this way and that... and so the maladjusted fish moved often alone and in random directions: sometimes up and sometimes down; sometimes diagonally and even sometimes horizontally (to make the groove complete... and show his open-mindedness, absence of prejudice)... and all combinations and permutations of his alternatives (just to keep himself occupied).
And as the nature of direction would have it, when the maladjusted fish went up, he sensed the approaching brightness and warmth of the Sun... and when he went down, he sensed the engulfing cold of the lonely depths. And so he went up (showing thus his preference by turning tail on the lonely depth), and he jumped. And the maladjusted fish broke first through his oceans' surface, to stand the moment, suspended with air, walking the waters... to fall then back to the thick air of Father sea. And so the maladjusted fish discovered momentum. He took his steps backward (for the sake of his running start); he went deeper and deeper into the thick air of Father sea (for the sake of his running start)... and then made his move against the surface... increasing his velocity and the impact of his bulk (making the challenge more convincing), in his noble effort to dissipate the gravity and shun the frictions ‘forces of oceans’ God (which would rather he did not escape) in his jump from depth.
So each jump broke him through the surface with more passion and desperation. Each jump carried him farther and farther into the thinner air... making for longer and longer trips into the thinner air. But soon the maladjusted fish despaired in his fatigue and soon became afraid that nothing would come of his efforts but exhaustion (for the Father sea has always been reluctant to turn his back on the escape attempts of his children).
But the maladjusted fish never stopped his jumping (refusing thus not to do what he knew that he must) because he didn't have anything better to do. And so the time came (as probability predicted) when he jumped from his greatest depths, from the centres of souls, the bottoms of oceans, the edge of his fear... that wondrous day when he jumped for the Sun and broke the surface of stained glass eyes... to catch God's wind by open fin, in first flight... leaving oceans behind and oceans before, breathing first in the air... in the fear and the pain and the joy of first touch... when his lungs first burned with the fire of the thinning air. What a day that was! when the maladjusted fish learned to use his fins as wings. But then was the maladjusted fish no longer one with the thick air of Father sea... which was the sustaining Mother.
from New Beginnings