Mockingbird Practice--redux

Goals are important. Nothing is going to happen without goals, unless I live in a constant state of luck, which I don't. A goal is a destination; without one, it's like a train leaving a station and saying, "Well, I'll get there eventually," if you haven't picked your destination point.

I'll never get there.

So I make goals for everything. Weight goals, excercise goals, writing goals, parenting goals . . . I'm a goalmonster. I love anything that helps me stay on track of those goals.

I love meeting my goals.

Once upon a time I dreamed of being published. That was my goal. That happened. But I never dreamed of publishing A Book. I dreamed of publishing 100 Books, or more. I planned on being Multi-Published much more than I ever considered having one book in print.

That was one of the few times I ever got mad at my husband over my writing. He was trying to be supportive, and after the selling of my first book, he said, "You know, lots of authors never sell a second book. You might not, either."
Red dots swam across my vision, like a cartoon character when they're mad. The thought had never ocurred to me, and I didn't like hearing it spoken aloud.
Now, there have been plenty of naysayers in my life: Tina won't graduate from college, Tina can't do this, blah, blah, so I began seeking out those persons who supported me. Supported my dreams and believed in me. Maybe even dreamed bigger than me for me.

Once there was a baby mockingbird in our yard. We had never seen such a small, fuzzy mockingbird. He had BIG things on his mind. Hop, hop, raise wings, hop, hop, raise wings, he went across our yard. It was amazing to watch, because he repeated the same motions over and over, with no interruption in the routine. Absolutely not one variation. Hop, hop, raise. Can you imagine those small black and white wings spreading from his body, pointing like chevrons toward the sky? Surely, I thought, he will hop, raise, and then hop. Or raise, hop, and raise.

He did not. But nothing was happening. There was no lift-off. We realized he was actually too young to fly, and that he must have fallen from a nest. But that made no sense, as he was clearly on a mission. Yet there were no parents around, we thought.

After going across my yard, he was tired, or maybe he was hiding from us. But he shrank up against a piece of metal edging, and we stayed back to watch. After a moment, he went into the bushes.

Seconds later, we saw a mockingbird adult swoop into the street, and peck a bug off the cement. It flew into the bushes. Another mockingbird joined. Dinner time, the rewards for effort well-done by this baby. He wasn't ready to fly, but he was practicing, working diligently toward his goal, exactly as his parents had told him: Hop, hop, raise. Practice, practice, goal.

Goals are the only way to get there. Keep yours in sight.

Much love to Fatin, Marcy, April, Teesh, Lorie, Jo, Heather and Nicki for your sweet notes yesterday. If I forgot anyone, forgive me! You are today's Sexy Readers!

Off to the hospital with my son!

Oh, and P.S.--thanks to Rae and Heather for telling me I had a setting on here where no one could post without being a member. I've turned it off--or Heather helped me to!! So feel free to post--or to write me at tsleonard@aol.com. I love getting all your thoughts.