Floyd's Flutters & New Friends

So how did I go from navigating solo,
to following a flamingo,
and then somehow—back to solo again? Well… here’s the thing.
To the human eye, it may appear like I’m on my own.
But I still have Flutters of Floyd following along—

And I also have you.

Floyd continued to light the way like a lantern, filling the air with signature Floyd fun facts and fables.

“Did you know,” he said with a grin, “that an eagle can spot something as small as a skunk from five kilometers away? They can even detect movement, depth, and ultraviolet light!”

“And otters,” he added, “store food—and their favourite rocks—right in their armpits.”

“Hmmm,” I mused. “With eyesight like that, they must surely know the whereabouts of the treasure.” I leaned back, considering. “And with those kinds of tricks up the otters sleeve, could it be that the otters have been carrying the treasure under their arms this whole time—right alongside us?”

“Perhaps,” Floyd replied, his eyes gleaming. “But they’re not just going to tell us where it is or hand it over. No, they'll simply nudge us a little closer to it—bit by bit.”

“And that’s the fun,” he continued. “We get to co-create this adventure. And with every step, we grow more perceptive—more skilled as treasure hunters, putting us closer step by step to discovering the treasure.”

Then Floyd launched into a tale strikingly familiar to The Tortoise and the Hare. But in this version, the moral had evolved: instead of simply “slow and steady wins the race,” it was a bit more complex, with contemplation, calculation, and configuration included in the process of uncovering a great treasure.

And so, inspired by the message in Floyd’s fable, I contemplated the puzzle pieces I’d gathered along the way up to this point—and with each reflection, I became more perceptive. I began to follow the path with more precision and came to understand that it wasn’t exceptional eyesight that would lead me to the treasure—being able to spot it from three kilometers away, or noticing it tucked beneath the armpit of an otter.

It was keen insight that would lead me there.

And this was the calculated conclusion…

The path was no longer meant to be seen.
Now, it had to be felt.

And soon, I found myself following a kind of magnetic map—just as Floyd’s turtle friend had done to navigate vast distances—guiding me to places where I moved with ease, just as we had when we went to meet the eagles, and to places where things flowed effortlessly, as we had with the otters.

And with that contemplation, I understood the calculation, that each revelation had been built on another, like stacking blocks—starting with one result, then using it as the foundation for the next step. And this resulted in the following configuration:

That whispers of adventure had lead to nudges, that lead to a wrecking ball, that led to a her call for help, that lead to a flamingo, that led to healing and finding herself, that lead to finding her passions, that lead to this calculated conclusion, that was leading her closer than ever to finding her treasure.

And with that, my fabulous flamingo friend said “wander well, until our paths meet again”, and off he went with his secret satchel, back to the swamp—to brighten flamingo faces with fun facts about a brilliantly bizarre being called Bree, and to share one fabulously forged heroic fable featuring wise owls, soaring eagles, playful otters, enchanted mountains, hidden doorways, mystical valleys, secret trails, timeless treasures—and one wonderfully gypsy-hearted girl. And for the near, foreseeable future, his flamingo focus would be fixed on inspiring young flamingos to dare to be different and venture into a world where synchronicities still danced—like flamingos in the moonlight, only now in new and more liberating ways.

And off I went, excited about the next adventure and what the future had in store for me. My radar was set for adventure, and my internal compass was ready to guide the way. And I too was equipped with very own secret satchel and lantern—fueled by this excitement and lighting my way forward, from within. The days of long detours and gridlock traffic were behind me. Speed bumps, nudging me to pause and take stock were still present, but they were fleeting. And more often than not, those brief delays were overcome with mentorship in the form of Flamingo Flutters: a pink feather drifting by, a stranger in a flamingo T-shirt, or someone casually mentioning the name Floyd. Gentle reminders that Floyd is still with me—that I have what it takes to overcome- to try and see the positive lesson in it- that the universe still has my back. I call these ‘Floyd Fill-Ins’—subtle walk-ins acting on his behalf.

As I journeyed on, I recounted the great stories Floyd had once shared. Now, new tales were being passed on to me—but not by a fervent flamingo, and this time, there was no audible sound. Instead, the stories seemed to swirl through the air like pages from an invisible book. The voices of treasure hunters, seekers of hidden treasures and truths, and ancient treasure buriers filled the space—whispering their discoveries, laying down a breadcrumb trail in a language beyond sound. Some even felt as though they came directly from the Knights Templar or the Aztec themselves, offering fragments of maps, interpretations of symbols, and secrets etched into the very air around me. And I realized I was no longer listening with my ears, but with something deeper. And I wondered if perhaps these stories had been swirling through the air all along, but I did not yet know how to hear them.

Just as my path had once crossed with Floyd's, now these invisible paths of the great treasure hunters and guardians had connected with mine—and it was no chance encounter—just as it hadn’t been with Floyd, and together, we were also weaving a grand tale, just as he and I had. The realization filled me with a deep sense of purpose, adding new meaning to the journey. I was part of something far greater—an ongoing adventure that had been unfolding for centuries, layered with the discoveries and contributions of those who came before. Each treasure hunter had left behind whispers, markers, and puzzle pieces, awaiting the next curious soul to carry the legacy forward. And now I was co-starring in this ever evolving saga—adding my own findings, my own truths, my own chapter to the ever-growing story. And that contribution gave me great sense of value. "

As I adventured on, I wasn’t just co-starring in a grand tale—I was also writing a new chapter in my own invisible book. One that was reminiscent of an Indiana Jones or Lara Croft film, filled with ancient caves to explore, crumbling ruins to navigate, and sprawling lost temples and forgotten castles to uncover. One that carried echoes of Dorothy’s journey down the Yellow Brick Road and Alice’s pursuit of the white rabbit—tales that had once intersected with my invisible path in childhood and inspired some of the adventures in her own unfolding story. But my story had its own flair, its own direction. I was uncovering tucked-away corners of the world where neither Lara Croft nor Indiana Jones had ever set foot—following my own Yellow Brick Road, guided by a fantastical, furry companion of my own. And along the way, my story was being shaped by these wondrous places and by the intersecting paths of the extraordinary characters from these places, with their unique tales and truths that had long waited for someone who could hear them… to share them.

And as I lived my story—visiting places and meeting creatures far from the ordinary, while also walking the intersecting, more worn trails once blazed by knights and warriors—the Knights Templar and Aztecs alike—the land beneath my feet began to stir in ways it never had before.

Along those more trodden paths, long ago blazed, magical invitations now beckoned as new passageways emerged and hidden doors appeared and opened.

"Had I missed something before?" I wondered.

And then I heard it—an inaudible whisper:

"Congratulations, dear treasure hunter. You’ve ascended to the next level of treasure hunting and earned an expanded path—one we trust you’ll know just how to follow."

And not far along the expanded path, I found it intersected again—but this time, not by the tales of legendary knights, warriors, or any sort of treasure-hunting storyteller. For at this moment, at this particular intersection, I was the treasure hunting storyteller. And waiting at that crossroad were young adventurers—perhaps knights and warriors in the making, but certainly treasure hunters at heart—nudged toward my path to hear the wondrous tales: of colorful creatures, of the mighty Templars and ancient Aztecs, of the heroic tale of Floyd the Fabulous—and of my very own story: Follow That Flamingo. Stories meant to awaken something deep within them… and, in turn, to call forth something within me.

And tuning into Floyd’s omnipresent flutters, I told the tales just as he would have—brimming with fun facts and flamboyant fervor. My stories were met with wide eyes, eager ears, and open hearts, followed by the question that confirmed a spark had been lit:

“Can I be a treasure hunter too?”

The question thrilled me—just as much to hear as it did to answer. It made my secret satchel lantern glow even brighter, for here were the newest characters in my latest chapter—And although were totally unexpected, they were utterly perfect: treasure hunters in training. Which meant I was no longer just a treasure hunter—I was also a guide.

Was I capable of this? I wondered.

And then, an inaudible response that only the heart could hear, replied: “You were meant to do this.”

As I guide my young treasure hunters towards their passions, purpose and hidden treasures, I feel grounded in mine, taking me back for a brief visit to my early chapters to remind me of how far I’ve come—and back to the new one being written that reminds me of deeply fortunate and grateful I am to be writing this fabulous story—one in which every page shimmers with childlike wonder and awe; each chapter brims with happiness, adventure, and ascension; and every new page of every new chapter opens wide to possibility and something wonderfully unexpected.”

Just like that, you were guided to me—and me to you. This is the moment in your story where your invisible path intersects with mine, and mine with yours.

Where another Floyd's Flutters graces us with a gentle reminder of the great synchronicity at play.

It’s the part of your story where you recognize the nudge to find and follow your own unique path—and realize that you, too, are part of something greater. And that you, too, carry a secret satchel with a special lantern inside, just waiting to burn bright.

Now all you have to do to answer the nudge and spark your flame is respond to this call—from a girl who found and followed a flamingo, right to her purpose of writing this tale and starting this blog, that found and followed it`s way to you.

And to answer? It’s simple. Just step into the ongoing adventure in the next chapter—become part of this story, while creating your own.

And while your spark grows into a flame, that girl will be here—happily lighting your way, just as my her Fabulous Flamingo had done for her.

Now, follow her, she'll show you the way, into the great adventure of your life.