#sixfootwingspan prompt number 7:
face the precipice. live in the moment before tipping. move on instinct.
reflection question: where does the courage come from?
Reflection. Question.
Where does the reflection come from? From the glass? From the mirror? From the moment of pause and remember? Where does the question come from? From the darkness? From the depths? From the clouds and the lightning? Where does the courage come from? To leave the nest. To put those still new tender feet on the outermost edge of the construction of sticks? To decide to open those wings, those ones that have thus far only been folded? Where does the tipping come from? The accidental weight shift? The considering but unsure being decided for you by a big gust of wind? FLY! Where does the moment come from? The moment you imagined you might find yourself in but didn’t know when. Where does the movement come from? In you is this instinct. In you is this reflex to right yourself. To save yourself. To stay alive. To soar. To survive. Where does this instinct come from? You saw your mother do it. Your hollow bones came from her bones. And her bones knew how to do it. She fed you worms and grubs, tipping her large head over your upturned open mouth. The energy came from her, from the interconnected web of the ecosystem, the sunlight, the plants, the rotting fruit. That caterpillar you ate -- gave you its’ wings. Who are you not to fly? Who are you to stay small forever nested? Who am I when my wings are tired? When my body says, rest? — SB
During this time of staying at home, we’d like you to join us in our distance art-making project. We’ll share prompts and process and invite
