It takes discipline to push beyond the surface and dig to the roots of thoughts and feelings. It also requires a combination of risk and playfulness to revolve the ordinary into inspiration to write into and beyond.
The Black Phoebes that live on my block remain dedicated to their ritual of flying from street signs to house rooftops to catch their meals. They have no concern with my desire to snare them on camera.
The blurs they leave against the azure morning reminds me of their dedication to the job at hand. What terrific writers they would become.
During an eighteen month period when we lived in an apartment near a park, I studied Phoebes and watched their intentions. I found them a metaphor of consistency and devotion to their task at hand as they spent the day flying and catching their variety of treats.
While I retreated to write in the park, our country experienced the events of 911, a dear friend battled cancer, our home took longer than anticipated. We lived in a circus of chaos and noises observed in the environs of a small apartment.
Each day I observed the Phoebes, I began to realize the importance of doing what needs doing in the moment. I pushed life's discomforts aside and became curious about the activities beneath the earth, smelled each new day's fragrance of eucalytus and cut grass.
The sycamore trees above me changed with the seasons and the Phoebes built their nest under an apartment's eave and raised young. I watched as they gave flying lessons to the fledges. The miracles unfolded day by day in nature's way.
I learn from the birds and their occupation with moments. My fascination with a search for words and an awareness of daily nuances keep me energized.
Delve into the mind's fertile soil.
During an eighteen month period when we lived in an apartment near a park, I studied Phoebes and watched their intentions. I found them a metaphor of consistency and devotion to their task at hand as they spent the day flying and catching their variety of treats.
While I retreated to write in the park, our country experienced the events of 911, a dear friend battled cancer, our home took longer than anticipated. We lived in a circus of chaos and noises observed in the environs of a small apartment.
The sycamore trees above me changed with the seasons and the Phoebes built their nest under an apartment's eave and raised young. I watched as they gave flying lessons to the fledges. The miracles unfolded day by day in nature's way.
I learn from the birds and their occupation with moments. My fascination with a search for words and an awareness of daily nuances keep me energized.
An upside heart on a Phoebe's chest turns into a blooming heart during the swings of their flight. 
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