I'm watching an eagle circle above River's Edge, and I can't help but wonder what benefit it finds in climbing higher and higher into that vast blue above. Everything we do is for benefit - it's just human nature to seek advantage, to look for the why behind an action. We don't take a single breath without some benefit driving it. Is it the same in the animal kingdom, I wonder?

What calls an eagle past the height where food is visible, beyond where threats can be detected, up into what appears to be empty space?

The question sits with me, much like the title of Justin Timberlake's first solo album "Justified" has sat with me since my final year of college in Florida.

Back then, I thought I knew what justified meant. It was the height at which I'd gathered enough evidence to be right about someone. To lock in my conclusion. My young mind was a master architect of boxes for other humans, and my justified certainty was the foundation, walls, and roof.

But that eagle keeps circling higher.

And I realize - we stop too soon. We reach justified and think we've arrived.

There's a certain comfort in that altitude, isn't there?

Our reticular activating system becomes this faithful servant to our justified conclusions, filtering every interaction through the lens we've chosen until - surprise - people can only ever show up exactly as we've decided they are.

It's fascinating how the mind works this way - after just minutes of eagle-watching, I glance at the mountain range and suddenly see the white-capped peak as the distinct head of a bald eagle. A connection I never would have made if eagles weren't already filling my field of vision. That's how powerful our filters are - they transform everything to match whatever lens we're looking through.

The thing is, we're not wrong in what we see at that height. Our hurts are real. Our frustrations valid. Our initial reactions human.

But what if justified isn't the final destination?

What if, like that eagle disappearing into blue, there's something beyond our first valid perceptions? Not to dismiss them - they're real, they matter. But to recognize them as base camp rather than the summit.

I can barely see that eagle now. Just a speck against endless sky.

And I wonder if that's the real gift of going higher - not the advantage we thought we were seeking, but the expanded view that makes our justified conclusions look like what they really are: just one small point in a much larger story.

Up there, what does that eagle see? At first, everything must be so crisp, so individual. There's a fish breaking the surface. A slight movement in the brush - probably a rabbit. Each ripple in the river distinctive, each pine needle sharp against the winter sky.

Like my own first moments after being hurt by someone: That tone in their voice. The way they dismissed me. How they seemed to not even care. Every detail crystal clear, every slight its own sharp edge.

But watch - the eagle is climbing higher now. I imagine the shift: the separate trees beginning to blur into forest, those individual ripples becoming one flowing river. Nothing lost, but everything changing.

Just like when I let myself rise above that first justified reaction: Yes, they hurt me. Yes, that happened.

And while one level of truth wants so desperately to lock in this behavior as narcissistic, or of a certain attachment style, for example, there's more here than just these moments of hurt.

There's a higher level of truth I can access. If I stop at this justification, I never get the chance to experience that person as anything else. And they never get to show up as anything else. My reticular activating system simply won't allow it.

Higher still. The eagle is barely visible now, and I imagine the view has transformed entirely. No more individual trees or ripples or movements - just patterns. Life flowing. Everything connected.

And isn't this exactly where we could arrive too?

Past the sharp edges of offense, through the comfort of justification, up into that rare air where both people are free from the boxes we've built.

Where they can show up different next time. Where we can see differently. Where, like that eagle now disappearing into blue, we all have space to simply soar.

This isn't as pollyanna as it may seem, this approach.

It does require flexibility of the mind.

It requires the corners of rigidity to round into moveable, malleable constructs, yes.

But it's not woowoo. It's actually practical. It's life.

It's being willing to invite a reshaping of what we think is solid fact - all those personal experiences and conclusions that feel so 'right' and 'justified' that we present them to the world as objective truth.

It's like letting our frozen perceptions thaw into something more fluid, like those ice packs in our coolers that can refreeze into different shapes based on what's around them.

From rigid box to adaptable form.

This eagle's soaring approach is an act of humility driven by curiosity. It's a place that allows for the and.

Go higher than justified, the eagle taught. Why limit your life when you can fly above those storm clouds like me?