Hen Party
Birds do not fly because they have wings; they fly because they use them. We do not ‘get there’ because we can; we get there because we go.
Today is a sunny afternoon in Costa Rica; I sit at the breakfast bar while the smell of freshly brewed coffee distracts me from sewing together a series of mischievous thoughts that I want to share. The same ideas led me to write a novel about hens and flying a year ago.
Hens can fly, the most common bird in the world can fly, but it doesn’t. Until ‘life as usual’ shows up at the henhouse door while the hen party is going on, and DJ Chicken starts playing Help! from The Beatles. A broken record sound made the music stop, and all the bay-coloured chickens noticed the grey coyote, showing its teeth in the middle of the dance floor and screaming – Threat! or in our human existence, illness, redundancy, weight, break up, divorce, bills, death and its other highly undesirable synonyms.
At that moment, the hens must decide whether to fly or die, the same as we can choose to move on or stay. To live life or let it kill us. It is like that moment in time when two caterpillars chat before going into metamorphosis, and one of the caterpillars sees a butterfly fly above and says to the other - you will never get me up in one of those things! Ignoring that after being rebirthed, she will be who she really is; and one day pollinate a tree fruit flower that we will enjoy as a ripe peach.
As we (hen or humans) choose to fly, two marvellous forces come in to build the miracle. The miracle that gets the hen party to safety and allows us to take ourselves to where we want to go.
One: We become aware we have wings.
As we become aware we have the capability to do it, we move towards trusting ourselves enough to flap, to take medicine the grey-haired doctor prescribed, break up with who (or what) hurts us, grief, apply for the scholarship, begin the business we always talk about with other hens, write the first two pages of our novel.
Trust.
Two: Faith happens.
As we flap, the second force acts naturally; we just know the air is around our flapping. As faith grows, we continue flapping, aiming to where we want to go. Suddenly the hen lands on a nearby tree she had never noticed before. We smile; we know she will be ok.
Such divine, bigger than us reality is where our actions land and thrive. Suddenly a notice pops on our mobile phone’s screen as we board the train, and while juggling our purse and coat, we realise that the job application email succeeded, and we start on Monday. The laboratory results show the disease is gone. We can close our eyes with a smile remembering those who passed away.
Faith.
Trusting us is the way. No one can fly but the birds. Faith is knowing we always get what we need. Just keep flapping. One day you will enjoy the peach; the caterpillar is already doing her part.
Your miracle starts with you. It occurs for you but cannot happen without She (who said God was a He?).
First, we flap, and then we fly. As we flap, we start creating our life history instead of history creating us.
Flap your wings. It is the first law of three, and it is how even the most extraordinary flights begin.
The second law is Aim. Know where you want to arrive (what is your why? as my dear friend Laila recently reminded me while I juggled a significant career shift, going from an M&A international lawyer to the director of a Non-Profit that fosters impact investment in Latin America). How can you arrive if you do not know where you are going?
What motivates you to get there enables the third law to occur. The third law has the shortest mantra because we need to remember it clearly in the most troubling times: Do not stop. Do-not-stop.
Flap, aim, keep going. Go where faerie tales are made; afterwards, the fairies can tell the story if they want.
One final thought before my coffee cup gets cold. Who says all birds fly alike? It seems to me that I’m more of a duck than a hen. Ducks do not fly perfectly, but they fly. Ducks do not swim perfectly, but they swim. Ducks do not walk perfectly, but they walk. Ducks do the best they can, wherever they are. Who wants to be perfect anyway? All birds can fly.
Enjoy the next Hen Party. Our mistakes are nothing more than our self-taught lessons.
By the way, the music is playing again at the hen party; I hope you can smile imagining us hens dancing to Put Your Records On by Corinne Bailey Rae.
Flap your wings, even if you don’t know how, just try, flap your wings somehow
Flap your wings, even if just to remind you
That God’s air is all around you
Flap your wings, you have wings, you know?
Up and down, up and down, you know how
Knowing is trying’s sweet sister, just try
Flap your wings, who knows, you might just fly
- Paola Fonseca
A huge hug from San José, Costa Rica,
Pura Vida (a Costa Rican saying that translates into living our life to the fullest).
Paola Fonseca
WILM&A cheer-LEADER & Author of Pen Pal Feathers tells the multi-generational story of the Gallina family (Gallina means hen in English); as a grandmother pens a series of letters using magical realism and shares with her granddaughter about the courage we behold to face the inevitable pain that life delivers to all of us.