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A couple of mountain blue birds were hanging out at the cabin the last week. The male was an amazing vibrant blue.  The female was mostly grey with a subtle display of blue on her wings. 

I’m by no means an expert, but it seems like female birds leave all the sexy posturing, color and flash to the males.  Think cardinals, peacocks and sage grouse.

So opposite of our species.

But lately, I'm down with the girl birds. I've been wearing a lot of brown, beige and black.  No makeup. No earrings.  Unpainted toenails. I’ve been flying below the radar lately, not wanting to draw attention to myself, not wanting to be seen. I can’t bring myself to post my blogs on Facebook, chat with other bloggers or hop around BlogFrog.

This is not how one builds an erotica writing career.

But upon further reflection, I realized my current bird girl status makes sense. Right now I’m putting all my energy into re-establishing my home in Colorado. 

I’m nesting. 

I'm sitting on all these ideas that I got from the writer’s conference in Portland, waiting to see which ones are going to hatch into a publishing plan.

I put on my brown and black feather earrings and I've been embracing my girl-bird self.

But then yesterday I was unpacking a box and found a single peacock feather.  I have no idea where it came from but I know why I kept it.  It’s beautiful, a piece of art.

I placed it on my meditation alter as an intention. A reminder.  An invitation to my cockier self to come on back out whenever she feels ready to fly.