Wings

Something about the light.  The shades and shapes.  The subtle melding of hues.  The way in which each   bird took its form against the background, reminded me as to how we each use our words to create a picture.  One word building upon another.  An idea clearing into focus.  A story which now exists where there once was none.

Watching the small flock of birds feeding outside of my window, I allowed my mind to wander into both dark and light.  Color and shade.  Stillness and movement.  And I began to consider the movement.  The rest. The fluttering of wings.  The fluttering of wings.

And I began to consider how just as the fluttering of wings can compel another bird into movement, the words of another can invoke more words and more words and more words.  With my story building upon yours and your story building upon mine until the ideas become fluid.  Rippling words concentrically building outwards until there are new meanings to be found.  Unique ideas.  Fresh stories being created in the quiver of an original word.

Each one of us has a hopping-off point.  A point at which something, or more importantly, someone, inspires us.  Moves us.  Motivates us.

We then land in the space where we are more able to nurture our own ideas.  We take sustenance from the words of others, and then when things are done correctly, we use those words to ignite our own notions.

It is a process that allows us to stretch our own wings.  Our own thoughts take shape and we are inspired to fly!  The words come and we compose our own unique flight-patterns.  All built upon the feeling that we get when we read something that inspires the soul out of its momentary rest.

And sometimes, the results are just breathtaking.  Our wings spread further and farther than even we ever imagined that they could.

Our hearts open wide.

And the beating of our wings, of our heart, take on another rhythm which also includes the rhythm of the words that came before.  From someplace else.  From someone else.  And an even richer story is launched into flight.

So I continue to read.  I read books, many, many books.  I read your blogs, filled with your words of life and hope.  Yesterdays and somedays.  Tomorrows and right nows.  I study my surroundings.  I take in all that I can.  I listen.  Talk radio happens to be one of my favorite mediums.  I fall asleep listening to words and ideas, and I continue listening even as I slumber.  The voices become part of my dreams.  I study color and shape and movement.  Not only the obvious, but the subtleties behind what is initially notable.  And my own wings begin to flutter with all of the possibilities.

This last picture caused me to think about how we share so much of who we are when we write things down.  And whether we share our words through publications, books or blogs, we never know exactly when something that we have said, will resonate with someone else, and so on, and so on, and so on.  Words, your words, can be just the flutter that might inspire someone else's flight.  Never underestimate the power in that.

Flutter on.