Many years ago I spent 5 days in the wilderness as a part of an outdoor program. We hiked, rock-climbed, and repelled in one of our country’s most beautiful parks. It was a much-needed respite from the crazy-busy life I led, (and all too often still lead).

The last day of our trip, we were challenged by our guides to spend 24 hours completely alone in the nooks and crannies of the mountains. They put us in a spot where we couldn’t see a single human. (We were given geographic parameters that helped us stay out of site of each other.) I carried with me a pen, a journal and a Bible.

Alone. 24 hours. Alone.

The first few hours were torture. My brain just wouldn’t shut off. “I’m an extrovert! Where are the people?” Eventually I settled down and actually began to enjoy my forced solitude.

Finally finding a comfortable perch on a rock, I turned to my right and saw an eagle flying high over a nearby canyon. For 15 minutes this magnificent bird mesmerized me as he soared effortlessly on the thermals. Up and down, left and right. Purposeful in every movement as he searched for prey.

The entire time I watched, I never saw him flap his wings.

In a moment, a bright yellow moth suddenly interrupted me as he darted just in front of my nose. He was the picture of activity, furiously batting his wings in the quest of…well…nothing. There were no plants or flowers anywhere near my rock. He didn’t land, and was, at that moment anyway, apparently void of any purpose at all.

But he sure was busy….

All is not as it seems, is it? My self-important busyness is often no more purposeful than the moth’s flight. I long for the peace and sense of direction of the eagle, but am I willing to lay aside my need to be noticed…my need to flutter colorfully in front of others?

What’s your story?