I watch a flock of geese fly over the Pennsylvania countryside. Rather than the tight and orderly formation I normally observe, I instead see a wobbly, tumbling assortment of birds.
It takes a long time till they eventually form that V-shape and fly efficiently into the distance.
I remember that for every thing I’m trying to organize— or any dream I wish takes flight—there’s that wobbling moment that looks like everything’s about to fall out of the sky.
But eventually, things fall into place.