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Wet Birds

My challenge yesterday was to just START. I did it. I dropped Marcus off at preschool, walked in the front door, poured out some paper pulp into a bowl, stirred in some warm water and got busy. I squished and mixed until the mush felt just right. I made SIX birds for my in-progress Disco Birds (more on that later) and then stood back and looked in awe at these wet birds that are already oozing with personality -- um, bird-onality.

As usual, just starting worked. To me, that's the funny part. It works almost every single time... if I just get started, the inspiration flows and YET nearly every single time I have more ideas than spark I doubt the process. I guess it's akin to losing faith for a day or two.

Which brings me to explaining my religion -- well part of it anyway. WHAT? From papier mache to God in one tiny step? Well, I have to start somewhere and wet birds are as a good a place as any. Those wet and mushy birds symbolize what I think the Spirit is. It's the voice inside me -- head, heart, and soul -- that eventually must be addressed. Sometimes, the Spirit is impatient and nudges me to get grouchy and testy so I know it's time to listen up again. Sometimes, the Spirit is quiet and lets me just explore the world for a while without ever raising its voice. Sometimes, the miraculous moments, the Spirit is so loud and demanding, so full of connection and inspiration that no matter how much dust is spilling out from under the sofa, I ignore it to skip down the stairs, throw a movie on for Marcus, and get busy.

This week, the Spirit was persistent and patient, but oh-so-happy when I got quiet enough to hear.

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