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  • Writer's pictureAram Mitchell

birds of prey

Sometimes I spiral. There is something at the heart of what I want to do with my life, with my work. There is a kernel of a thing that I want to offer this world. And sometimes in my attempts to identify it, express it, manifest it in my days, my to do lists, my relationships — I spiral.

I circle the thing like a bird of prey.

I wonder: Why do the birds do it that way? Maybe if I knew their motivation I’d have clarity about my own. But I resist the impulse to Google it and opt instead to imagine my own solution to the query.

Maybe the birds do it that way as a gesture of invitation. Come to the feast, all who are hungry.

Maybe it’s philosophical. Solvitur ambulando.

Maybe it’s a cautionary practice. Fools rush in.

Or maybe it’s a spiritual practice. Because hurry seldom gets us where we’re going any quicker than a patient and intentional approach.

Maybe you know better than me the inner workings of the hearts and minds of birds of prey. I’ll relish your insights. And still, I’ll wonder. And still, sometimes, I’ll spiral.

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