Safety or the Sound of Wings

The snow is a mixed blessing, I suppose. I’m tired of winter. I long for daffodils, pansies, and dirt. For rain, rather than snow. Still, it puts a damper on my ninety-three-year-old mother ‘getting out and cleaning up the yard.’ And it’s wet, not likely to stick around.

Courage is the price that Life exacts for granting peace,
The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things;
Knows not the livid loneliness of fear, nor mountain heights where bitter joy can hear
The sounds of wings. —Amelia Earhart

I found this poem years ago and read it often. When I do, I hear the hush of wind daring her to fly. We hear it, us writers, too, at that moment when we face the computer screen or blank page at the beginning of a new project. We hear it when we send our manuscript out to publishers. There’s that catch of breath, that little prayer that this time, maybe, I’ll sell.

Pictures of Amelia Earhart reveal courage in her smile. Her head is held high. A bold spark in her eyes as she faces the crowd. She risks it all. Sometimes, I see her in my mind in that final moment; knowing she failed, knowing she didn’t regret the trying.

She could have stayed home…safe. She choose not to.

I admire that look-it-in-the-eye, face-it-squarely attitude, that determination and courage. I don’t have it, always. I’m insecure, unsure. More often than not, I don’t know if I’m even on the right track or any good.

At those times, I try to think of Earhart. How many skeptics had she faced? How many doubts?

Does writing take courage? Oh, yes. Nothing is quite as daunting as that blinking cursor nagging you to begin, to find some new truth inside yourself that will give your words meaning and value. Nothing is quite as painfully hopeful as sending out your manuscript yet again, but anything worth something, takes courage.

I keep Earhart’s poem in a small notebook at my desk, along with a picture of her waving from her plane that last time, excitement barely contained in her eyes.

Was there fear, too? I think so. You can’t step off into the unknown without it. But, was there regret? I would say, never. Not even that final moment when the hush engulfed her.