It screeches 1970s. The read is akin to "Are You My Mother," a tale that has been told many times, but this version brings a smile. Little Owl falls out of his nest and meets a variety of wacky drawn characters who claim to know who his mother is. After a tearful reunion with his mom, the story ends with Little Owl precariously perched to tumble out of the nest again.
I bet you that Little Owl, in hindsight, enjoyed being lost and positioned himself to repeat his fall.
Sometimes we all need to tumble out of our nest; out of our comfort zone.
Many characters, stories, and experiences await us . . . if we create the opportunity to meet them.
Something so basic like buying a pink skirt when your closet is bursting with black and brown can add a new twist on your life by changing your perspective, even if ever so slightly.
Why do we fear falling from our nest? It's human nature to to live out of habit, method, and control, even if its controlled chaos and contrary to our self health.
I too have had fears from time to time. After my first pregnancy loss, I feared getting pregnant again. Then after my second miscarriage, my fear of pregnancy grew stronger. This fear did not paralyze me however as I yearned to be a mother. The third miscarriage stopped me in my tracks. How could I: a nurturing, loving, nesting, control freak, type A, goal-oriented personality with a God-given large bosom (that I lugged around for 25 years) fail to allow me to produce a child that I could feed? Why was I being denied this basic life right deserved by women? How could my body fail me?
I had to let my mind accept my loss of control. I jumped out of my nest. That jump started my creative life; it began my new dreams. I wasn't mad at my body anymore. When I went for my first mammogram and the technician asked me, in a matter of fact, clinical way if my breasts were real; I chuckled, spun around, pointed at my butt and said, "with these biscuits what do you think?" End of discussion.
When I had my fourth miscarriage I was okay. I knew that children would be a big part of my life. At peace with this knowledge, God gave me my daughter. She found me and I found her. Now we journey together. We have built a nest. From time to time, we push each other out of it. We are never lost. We are always found.
So, after this heavy post, I leave you with some beautification therapy. Love yourself, love others, take risks and you will fly. Bumblebees have short wings and they are scientifically, anatomically built to fail to fly. But they do.
Here is a dress that we had made for our store. It is beautiful. What I love about it is the photographed memory it can yield. It will be my daughter's Easter dress. I will pin the butterflies that were made for the dress on her dress and hairband and on my outfit. The expected photograph will capture my feelings; that our lives are intertwined, that we are beautiful together, and that butterflies follow us wherever we go. This is the power of positive thinking!
Here is a favorite photograph of mine discreetly captured by Nicole Geller in my store several years ago. Casey was playing sweetly, loving the butterfly bonnet that I had just made for her.
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