I mentioned in a previous post that I’ve been feeling rather uninspired, creatively speaking, for the past several months. Or, perhaps, “dissatisfied” is the better word. I’ve grown tired of doing the same old things in the same old way, from collage to essay-writing to the occasional odd poem. I have been feeling increasingly like I want a fresh start: a new challenge, a different approach to an old project, or even a different project entirely. The idea of starting something new and leaving the old behind has begun to feel increasingly more enticing to me; although, I haven’t been able to get a clear picture of what that “something” looks like.

For the past several weeks, my attempts at collage art have been largely fruitless, and I haven’t felt at all like writing. So, I’ve been asking myself what it is that I genuinely want to do, which creative or intellectual pursuits would really, truly satisfy me at present. And the answers have consistently been twofold: books and birds.

And in fact, I have been quite busily pursuing these interests. About a month or so ago, I decided I wanted to read and/or re-read a number of literary classics, a project I’m referring to as my “classic literature project.” Indeed, there are more than a few classics I haven’t read yet, and many of those I read 10 or 20+ years ago deserve a second look. No time like the present! I am also taking an online course from the Cornell Lab’s Bird Academy in comprehensive bird biology, which, judging by the size of the textbook, will keep me busy for some time, as well as a few courses through the same platform designed to help me become a better photographer.

While I have been enjoying dividing my time between these projects, I have still been hoping to find that “something,”  that bit of creative fire. And just as I’d resigned myself not to force, but rather to sit back and see what develops naturally, I got an idea: “I should combine my love of books and birds.” Like most good ideas, this one declared its intentions quietly. It was more of a passing thought, actually, that came to mind (and left as swiftly as it came) while I was busy doing this morning’s chores. Had I not been paying attention, I might have missed it altogether. 

Books and birds. What, I asked myself, does that mean to me? Does it mean reading books about birds or in which birds feature prominently? Perhaps, but not exclusively. Does it mean starting a book club or online community for those who love birds and books, like I do? Most emphatically, no. I am too introverted for that. Does it mean something as simple as sitting outside and reading while enjoying the birds in my backyard? No. I do this all the time anyway, and I’ve noticed that not much reading gets accomplished under these circumstances because I’m easily distracted by birds. 

Or, does it mean exploring birds as symbols in literature, as well as archetypes? Wouldn’t it be interesting to compare and contrast symbolic representations of birds with what scientists think they are actually doing when they perform certain behaviors? And wouldn’t it be helpful to think about the ways in which birds in literature inform our perceptions of these creatures in the real world, as well as our perception of nature and our place in it?

Books and birds. It’s a good idea, I think, although it needs fine-tuning. At any rate, it is something to work with and an exercise I might like to try in future posts.