There’s a tradition within the working kitchen — “Yes, Chef!” It acknowledges the task at hand and signifies the willingness to follow through. It’s what I say to the fluttering of my white-hatted heart, daily. 

I wasn’t feeling that well yesterday afternoon. But I was mid-paint, (a bird in the hand) and hadn’t I promised the page? Hadn’t I said to the other birds, today we welcome another? Yes. But most importantly, hadn’t I told myself that I could do it? 

I have no contract with my daily blog, nor my sketchbook. But I do have a commitment to my very core, to be who I am. To make something of the gift of the day. To wing myself above the obstacle and keep becoming. 

So when I say yes to the morning and the song in the trees and the keyboard and the brush, I am saying yes to myself. Yes to the chef, the boss of my being, that I am willing. I am able. 

The sun feathers day’s light through the window. My fingers wiggle, wings too, already hearing my heart’s yes.