OuterBliss: To Fly You Have to Leave Your Nest

The full moon on a night walk in the park.

Listening to: Something with a lot of energy seems right for today.

Bliss: A snow covered world that has not begun to melt, meaning it stays white and clean and bright -- even the roads. Learning to give into the winter and not fight it. Learning to love the quiet and the stillness and the bareness and, yes, the darkness.

The title of this post seems pretty "Duh!" but for someone just learning about her wings, it's a bit of an epiphany (to use a word from one of our favorite girls).

As I've said before, I knew this word was my word of the year, because the idea of it -- both literally and metaphorically -- totally scares me.

I hate to fly. I hate planes. This fear is pre-9/11, but that certainly did nothing to help it. I've done my share of flying, across the width of this continent and across the Atlantic and much flying of shorter distances.

But then I just stopped. I haven't flown in fourteen years. I flew to Paris; I came home and flew to Nebraska (of all places) to present at a Holocaust conference, and then I handed in my wings. I haven't been in the air since. And Marcy and I dream of warm waters in February, Paris in the Fall, and so many other places that I fear this fear will keep me from.

Yet, the more important side of this Fly coin is the metaphorical side.

That side of the coin is about taking risks, doing things for joy, putting myself out there, daring with my creativity.

So I did that just recently. I took a risk; I put myself out there; I dreamed pretty darn big.

Though every voice in my head was telling me that I would be rejected, that I wasn't worth it, that I might put someone in an uncomfortable position where they would say "yes" but only because they felt bad for me...and on and on, that whole opera of devilish divas that speaks to us from the netherworld of doubt and defeatism and despondency.

The nest is so comfortable, she says in a voice filled with whine. Lined with feathers and bits of cotton and shiny things. Who would want to leave? Why should I dare to leave? I have everything I could ever need in this nest.

But ah, there's the snag: Everything I need.

Is that enough? No. It's not. I have dreams and desires that go way beyond need. And I have been fortunate enough to have been born into circumstances where I can dream and desire beyond need.

Really, I have been given the gifts and the talents necessary for dreams and desires, and so I become obligated to use those gifts and talents, to not spit in the face of the muse or the infinite divine or fate or whatever it is that doles out these things.

About two weeks ago, I knew all of this clearly enough to stand up and stretch my wings and test the wind and step to the edge of my nest and...

Those wings? They work.