So much work this week. I feel completely grounded. No time for playful writing. No chance for daydreamed musings. My days are full of research, rewrites and deadlines.
This is good. I realized that in order to take flights of any worth and beauty, we must have our earth-bound periods. Birds always rest eventually. Their times in air are often short, the means only to get from nest to food to tree to food and back to nest. Their wings are mere tools and hold none of the romantic meanings that the wingless muse about.
When birds soar and dance on air, feeling free and unencumbered, it's because the practical and necessary work of eating, sleeping, and resting make it possible.
Hummingbirds drinking nectar from flowers will always fascinate me. But if I gazed at them all day, when would I write? When would I produce the pieces that inspire other ideas and actions to take flight?
I write to encourage wing growth. That means I'll treasure the work and keep writing. In a few weeks, I'll be able to unveil this week's work behind the wings, when everything is finished. Then we can all watch what takes flight together.
Thank you, Scribblers, for encouraging and supporting my writing wings. We are part of an amazing writer's community, and I always look forward to our weekly flight together.