I was hit with an ironic blow this morning when I read Erin’s It Begins With a Colour challenge for this week.

“Yesterday I watched a small bird, flying very fast, disappear into the canopy of an oak tree. So dense were its leaves that it was impossible to see what happened next, though I can tell you it remained inside. I wondered how the little bird found its opening through the leaves at such a speed, and then managed to gently align its fragile body on the branch it chose to land upon, all within a fraction of a second. Not to mention the impossible to imagine flying maneuvers required: the banking, the curling, the vertical and horizontal stabilizations, the deceleration and landing. Memory? Calculation? Not in that tiny brain. Instinct? Maybe, but how does instinct know which way the branches of a tree have grown when no two are the same? That little bird just knew. It had faith, in spite of not being able to see how things would work out, that if (and only if) it stayed the course the details would be taken care of; that an opening would appear and a twig would be found. In fact, had she slowed down enough to carefully and logically inspect the tree first, the prudent thing to do, she would have lost her lift and fallen to the ground. Kind of like reaching for your dreams. Neither memory, nor calculating, nor instincts are the deciding factors, but faith coupled with action.”

What dreams am I over-thinking? In the wake of yesterday’s thoughts and a provoking conversation with a good friend last night, I am left standing today asking myself why I over-think the simplest of dreams. All that my dreams require is faith, coupled with action. Not precise calculations, not memory, not my faulty instincts. Thank God.

The simplest way to get moving? Move. Let go, and move.