I run most every day, just to ease the mind a little bit.  I always follow the same course.  It feels like a familiar friend at this point.  I know that when I reach the red mailbox, I have hit the first-mile marker.  I also know that the old oak tree by the side of the road denotes the final push up the last steep hill of the run.  The exercise undoubtedly is good for me.  But I am also doing something else every time I run this course.  I have a goal in mind, which might seem kind of silly.  I am on the lookout for a turkey feather – and not just a dun-colored fuzzed one, but rather a sleek tail feather.  In fact, one could say that the running is just a conduit for finding that feather along the side of the road.  I live in the country, so it is not such a stretch to find a turkey feather every once in a while, but it is still a challenge to find a nice one, and I have to keep my eyes peeled on the pavement, which, as the mind wanders, is sometimes hard to do.  More often than not, I just stumble over the feather, lying in the brush, having been caught up in the wind and deposited there.  There is no guarantee that I am going to find that turkey feather, but I am definitely not going to find the feather, even a little bit of fluff from the turkey’s underside, unless I take those first steps and start to run.  The same is true for constantly applying yourself to your craft, making the commitment to ease into the chair, pick up the pen, or the paintbrush, or the instrument, and search out that next new idea.  That turkey feather is sure to come your way every once in a while.  More often than not, it will appear every time you sit down and commit yourself to your creative endeavor.

Photo by Jakub Kriz on Unsplash