7:30 BELLS: Behold and Bring Forth. Then Let Go.

Do you see the flying stone figure grappling forward from rock and root? Do you see the chisled face reaching toward the waterfall, the wing bursting out behind the ivy?

I did. 

Here, I thought, is a poem. Here is the root of all poems, stories, art—of anything trying to emerge into this world.

The only attention the stone figure needs to emerge is mine. Mine to behold it. Mine to encourage and coax it out into the world. Wherever it flies then, whatever become of it in the world, is its own adventure. Let it go.

More and more, art is like that to me. All that matters is the creation, because that's where the life and ringing happens. Every artist struggles to learn this. (Great athletes do, too, in a different way.) Bring forth your best. Learn to let go of what you've made and your expectations for it.  In this season of the Olympics, literary awards, Superbowls, remember: No gold medal, no award, no review, no trophy matters. They may be sweet icing, but they have nothing to do with the essential. Only the joyously skated program is essential. Only winged bursting forth. 

So behold and bring forth. Then let it fly. Turn your best attention toward beholding the next winged figure, wherever it awaits, whether in stone, paint, word, cloud . . . .

LORE OF THE BELL

Behold, Bring Forth, Let Fly!

7:30 BELLS is posted every Tuesday. 

Join me on February 11 for a 7:30 BELLS Guest Post by Newbery Honor author Margarita Engle.