I eat a lot of humble pie, and you'd think the tummy aches, fever, and lack of sleep would steer me clear of that acrid experience, but no. Often an idea takes hold and I see nothing but the finish line as I point my teaching ship in that direction navigating the idea's twists and turns until the lovely finish line arrives.
Others, perhaps far wiser than me, test the waters first, and make sure they have abundant supplies (support) before taking off. But not me. With the wind of an idea on my back, I take off towards the light of the idea's impact. Small set backs typically don't stop me as I usually see them for what they are as I navigate the seas ahead.
I'm getting older now though, and an unsteady ship is starting to challenge my shaky knees and less limber body--I'm too aware of what a rock's knife-edge can do to my ship at a time when safe sailing is more needed and desired. Hence for a time I'll shelter myself in a cottage by the coastal edge spending some time with pens and paper, wondering, thinking, and resting.
I'll bid the young sailors a good dream sail, and soften their humble pie with a dollop of whipped cream to sweeten the bitter taste.
I'll finish my pie straight up, so I don't forget humility's sharp reminders any time too soon. I'm not fond of humble pie, and as I grow older I find myself desiring a slice of sweet blueberry or coconut custard instead.
The journey's pitch was steep, but the teaching ship will continue after a short, but longer than usual, respite. I thank my journeyman for their kind words, truth, and inspiration. Onward.
