Hummingbirds belong to the bird order Apodiformes, which is Greek for ‘footless’. This is a slight misnomer, because hummingbirds do have feet, but it is accurate in that hummingbirds cannot walk due to the placement of their legs on their bodies. They will land, sometimes, but they are nearly always in flight; their breath, their heartbeats, and their wingbeats rushing at an incredible pace. They are at once determined and frenetic. They dart in and out of view, hiding, then being seen, then hiding again.
Creative work can feel like this. For me, it has meant darting from medium to medium, needing to create work but sabotaging myself by overthinking it, tacking meaning about who I am and what is my worth to everything that I endeavor to create. Letting silence or disinterest or another’s fear of connection be an ultimate judgment on the softest, tenderest parts of me. Taking constant inventory of the but why, the for whom, the to what end, yet being borne along by something that doesn’t exactly reside in the coherent world of the mind. Hiding, then being seen, then hiding again.