Fly. Be Free.

There was a time I didn't have wings. Or perhaps I did and I just didn't know how to use them.

I had a choir teacher in High School that would say 'fly be free' as class ended and we bustled out into the chaotic hallways. For some reason that phrase lately has been repeating itself in my head at random times.

'Fly. Be free.'

Today at work I had a talk with my boss. She mentioned that one of my co-workers labeled me as a 'free spirit.' In referencing my aversion to being managed and my dislike for criticism, my boss metaphorically placed upon me the imagery of a bird. She compared my energy to the freedom of a bird in flight and she feels that every time she attempts to refocus my pull towards independence and hone in on stabilizing my autonomy to becoming more interconnected and appended, that she feels like she's caging me in.

A bird caged. A boy relinquishing blissful abandon.

I really identify with that reflection: a bird, a free spirit. In all aspects of my life I feel so motivated by compositions of experience; living in soul expansive ways and driven by the venture of flight. Air beneath wing. Unchartered air. Fresh undertakings of wide vistas and light catching glimpses.

I don't want to be grounded, nor do I want to be caged.

I like my wings, in fact I value what they represent and what I've gone through to learn how to use them.