The only limits are those of vision

When I moved into my home on Bradley Lake in the mid 1990s, I noticed an eagle perched at the top of the 250-foot-tall solo pine, scanning the lake. It wasn’t long before I realized he had a mate. As I’ve watched the eagles hunt, feed their young and soar above my home, the pair has grown familiar. For 15 years, I’ve witnessed their capacity to nurture a growing family and thrive under harsh conditions.

Their visual acuity is legendary — selecting then hunting prey successfully by diving hundreds of feet and striking with complete accuracy no matter the wind, light or weather.

As I’ve aged, my feelings for those serving our country have become more intense. I’ve attended many Veteran’s Day, Memorial Day and Fourth of July services from Boston to Alaska. I admire our veterans for their service and vision, knowing their choice to serve keeps us free. The symbol of the eagle displayed on flags always grabs my attention at these ceremonies.

Five years ago, I noticed a beautiful emblem of an eagle head profiled on a new Mat-Su fire truck at the Alaska State Fair. Around the same time my program was closed at University of Alaska Anchorage and I began to teach in the Lower 48. I was so moved by the eagle emblem that I bought a pair of them from the manufacturer in Oregon. I affixed the emblems to my RV — one on each side with the eagle head profiled sideways and facing forward.

I drove with pride to and from the Lower 48 with my Alaska eagles by my side(s).

When teaching in a major Big 12 university system last year, I experienced a life-threatening injury. Serving as a professor is a highly pressurized experience. The day after being released from the hospital I was required to attend a meeting with the university to determine my return-to-work date. The pressure was on. I still didn’t know how I’d get through each day, never mind teaching again. The mantra from the university was, “you can’t return unless you’re 100 percent.” I hadn’t been an employee long enough to qualify for family leave or other programs and had accrued few sick days. I had to keep the household running and worked hard to get the physician endorsement to go back to work 100 percent while still in recovery the remainder of the school year.

I returned to work in short order. The nature of my injury made my legs feel like I was carrying 15-pound weights around. I moved slowly and didn’t want to feel rushed by foot traffic on the main access stairwell, so I changed my route to my office and climbed a rarely used stairwell at the end of the building.

On my first trip up the new stairwell at the top of the second flight of stairs and on the wall in front of me was a large, beautifully framed photograph of a male eagle.

His head was profiled from the side with piercing eyes, white head feathers and golden beak poised proudly. I was shocked. I paused, put my hand on the picture to honor the moment and continued to my office. Once there, I placed my forearm on the desk and rested my head to recover so I’d have the energy to teach. This became a routine.

Daily, I’d pause at the eagle photo to touch it ceremoniously while tilting my head downward and saying a Hail Mary. My vision was to survive the remainder of the term, to soldier-on and do well in healing and do a good job — against all odds. Being the oldest of 10 and Irish, I’m a self-determined “fighter.”

Weeks went by and, then, one day I noticed a quote under the photograph. It had been there all along. I realized I’d missed the brief, cursively written phrase in black ink under the picture. I found my reading glasses and put them on and placed my nose up to the quote and read out-loud: “The only limits are those of vision.”

I targeted my vision on finishing the school year and then, with eagle eyes poised forward flanking both sides of the RV, soared back home to Bradley Lake. My eagles and I continue to live as neighbors guided by our shared vision to nurture others, lead and thrive in a free and sometimes stormy world.

Paul Maguire is a Palmer resident and former professor at the University of Alaska Anchorage. He is the facilitator of the Center for Creating Peaceful Neighborhood, and advocates for eliminating bullying and fully including all people in community.