Floyd's Flutters & New Friends

And I still have Flutters of Floyd following along—

And now I also have you.

As we wrote the final pages of Floyd's heroic tale, he added a flourish of flair—by forging a fable that gently echoed The Tortoise and the Hare. But in Floyd’s version, the moral had evolved—the characters had changed, and the lesson ran deeper. It wasn’t just about slow and steady winning the race; it was about knowing when to pause, when to pace, and how to listen to the whispers of the wondrous path. And instead of a story rooted in competition, it unfolded across a canvas of companionship and collaboration—between a flamingo and a girl, flowing forward, hand in feather.

And some words of wisdom followed his fable: "With each chapter, you’ve come closer than ever to finding your treasure— You’ve learned to find wonder, with prizes down under. To seek out the creatures with the finest features, to listen to their stories with allegories, and to follow their tales to unveil secret trails. And now, dear friend, the final truth is revealing: To reach the ceiling, just follow the feeling— To where you’ll soar like the eagle, with vision wide, and glide like the otter, with joy by your side. And if you ever need this hero near, just follow my flamingo flutters, dear— A whisper of pink, a touch of flair, a presence unseen, but always there.”

With that, my fabulous flamingo friend whispered some parting words: “Wander and wonder well, until our paths meet again.” And off he went with his secret satchel lantern, back to the swamp—to brighten flamingo faces with fun facts about a brilliantly boundless being called Bree, and to share one fabulously forged heroic tale featuring wise owls, soaring eagles, playful otters, enchanted mountains, mystical valleys, hidden doorways, secret trails and timeless treasures. And for the near, foreseeable future, his flamingo focus would be fixed on inspiring young flamingos to dare to be different and to venture out into a world where synchronicities still danced—like flamingos in the moonlight, only now in more individual and authentic ways.

And just like that, a fresh page flipped, and my story soared into a brand-new chapter—my radar locked on adventure, and my flamingo feeling finely tuned, ready for more. Now, I was feeling my way forward along an invisible path—just like Floyd’s turtle friend, feeling his way across vast distances, guided by my very own magnetic map. I, too, was armed with a secret satchel and a glowing lantern—like Floyd’s— lit by the fabulous feelings that illuminated my way. And as I journeyed on, my lantern glowed brighter—sparked by a splash of Floyd-inspired flamingo flair, a swirl of fun facts, and a flurry of freshly forged fables I whipped up to keep myself delightfully entertained along the way.

And I smiled inwardly, thinking about how far I’d come—and how confident I was becoming that, with a little more practice, I just might be able to keep up with the likes of Floyd the Fabulous.

As I journeyed further, new tales began to cross my path—and this time, they weren’t from a fervent flamingo, a feathery or furry friend, or even my own imagination. They were the voices and stories of great treasure hunters that filled the space—laying down a breadcrumb trail in a language beyond sound, whispering their discoveries, their translations of symbols, and sharing sub rosa clues that drifted through the air around me. Just as my path had once crossed with Floyd's, now these invisible paths of fellow treasure-hunters had connected with mine—and I with theirs-and this was no chance encounter—just as it hadn’t been with Floyd.

I was now part of another great tale, with them—co-starring in an ever-unfolding saga, as I continued to write my own. And that realization filled me with a deep sense of connection, adding new meaning to my adventure. I was part of something far greater—an ongoing odyssey that had been unfolding for centuries, layered with the discoveries and contributions of those who came before. Each treasure hunter held pieces of the puzzle, awaiting the next treasure hunter to gather their fragments and carry the quest forward.

And I felt deeply honored to be entrusted with and gifted these fragments—and utterly thrilled to contribute my own revelations to the ever-evolving story.

As my days unfolded along a path that led me to distant lands—exploring ancient caves, forgotten ruins, and sprawling, abandoned temples—it dawned on me that my adventure resembled something from the set of an Indiana Jones or Lara Croft film. And that it also carried echoes of Dorothy’s journey down the Yellow Brick Road and Alice’s adventure into Wonderland—tales that had once intersected with my invisible path in childhood, inspiring some of the adventures I now found myself living in adulthood. But I also recognized that while my path shared intriguing parallels, it was authentic—uniquely mine—with its own distinctive tone and direction. After all, I was uncovering hidden sanctuaries of the world where neither Lara Croft nor Indiana Jones had ever set foot, following my own personalized Yellow Brick Road—toward Oz's and Wonderlands not yet written into storybooks. And I was accompanied by my very own feathery and furry friends, each with their own individual idiosyncrasies and fabulous flair that set them delightfully apart.

And along the way, my adventure was shaped by the fantastical Ozs and Wonderlands I stepped into, and by the extraordinary characters who stepped into my story—sharing their singular tales and long-held secrets that had waited patiently for someone who could truly hear them. And with each story and secret I collected—from whimsical creatures and great fellow treasure hunters—the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. And as they did, the ground beneath my feet began to stir, revealing wondrous rewards, as once-concealed passageways and portals to new lands and new chapters of my story magically appeared at my feet. But I paused—hesitant to step forward without a feathery or furry friend at my side. Then it came, a gentle nudge in the form of a flutter: a single pink feather that danced through the air and settled softly on my shoe.

Followed by an inaudible whisper of encouragement saying, “You know what to do, now follow the clue.”

An inaudible whisper that may have been my own.

Through these new passageways and portals, the days of detours and congested cities appeared only in my rear-view mirror. Speed bumps still surfaced now and then—nudging me to pause and take stock—but they were fleeting. And on the rare occasions when I wandered too far off course, a Floyd Flutter—or a Floyd-Fill-In, as I also like to call them—would arrive in the form of a sign: a stranger in a flamingo T-shirt, a glimpse of a flamingo tattoo, or the name Floyd drifting through a passing conversation. Gentle reminders that Floyd was still with me—cheering me on, reminding me that he, and the universe, still had my back.

And in this new chapter of my story, I found it intersected once again—but not with seasoned treasure hunters whispering inaudible secrets and stories this time. Instead, it was curious adventurers—treasure hunters both at heart and in the making—nudged toward my path to hear the wondrous tales I had to share: stories passed down by colorful creatures, legendary seekers, a fabulous, facilitating flamingo—and of course, the wonder-filled tale of my own journey up to that point. Tales meant to ignite something within them—and, in turn, to call forth something within me.

And in ode to my fabulous flamingo friend—and to brighten the stories I told—I shared the tales just as he would have: brimming with fun facts and flamboyant fervor.

“Floyd would be proud,” I whispered to myself, as my stories were met with eyes wide with wonder, ears tuned in with delight, and hearts open to the magic—followed by the words that confirmed a spark had truly been kindled:

“I want to be a treasure hunter, just like you. Can you show me the way?"

That statement—and the question that followed—thrilled me to my core. It made my secret satchel lantern glow even brighter, for here were the newest characters in my unfolding chapter. I was no longer just a treasure hunter in my story—now, I was also a mentor. A guide. And the treasure hunters in training would be following me, just as I had once followed Floyd.

“Was I capable of this?” I asked myself.

Then, an inaudible response—one only the heart could hear—replied: “You were meant for this.”

And I knew that the whisper was my own.

I smiled wide, having found both my passion and my purpose, and let out a playful giggle as I reflected on how it had all begun—with a simple stir within me, followed by a gentle nudge. The very same kind of stir you're likely feeling now, and the very same kind of nudge that's knocking at your door, calling you to step into this adventure and become part of the story.