How "Not" To Talk To Owls

 photo courtesy of Lynn Griffin-Roberts

"Dreams are illustrations...from the book your soul is writing about you."

~ Marsha Norman

I had this big, wonderful blog post knocking around in my head for the last week or so. It was about a fantastic dream involving eggs and owlets (and cat food!) and the beauty of growing things that will eventually fly away from you. I just need to jot it down so they'll understand, I kept telling myself. But every time I sat down to jot, nothing came.

Well, that's not true. Words came out -- they just weren't the right words. They kept twisting themselves up into knots, bending over backwards trying to please me. They made a valiant effort.

But it didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all.

I'm embarrassed to admit I worked on this "problem" for almost a week before I finally stepped away from myself long enough to see what was going on -- I was forcing it. And it didn't want to come.

Art is a finicky business, like herding cats. You can push and prod and cajole and sprinkle moon fairy dust over an idea as much as you like. It'll still dart behind a rock and stick it's tongue out at you if it's not ready to be born.

So, in spite of my initial frustration, I'm glad for the lesson I'm taking away: Always remember to feel for the resistance in a thing, feel around the edges, feel around your heart. Ask it if it wants to come out from its nice, warm hiding place in the cosmos.

Then, trust yourself. Trust the answer. 

And if need be, move on.

Namaste.