Afraid of Flying, Afraid of Falling: Art, Ethics and Avoidance

I keep making patterns. Forests of patterns. Kaleidoscopes of creatures. Crowns spinning into infinity. This new crowned eagle t-shirt pattern is bold, rhythmic, a little hypnotic. The kind of shirt that quietly says, I notice things most people walk past. I love how patterns in nature feel like discovering an unwritten code to the universe. The crowned eagle, multiplied, mirrored, looped, until it becomes less about a bird and more about the source code behind nature. 

But here’s the uncomfortable part sitting under the canopy. Am I creating all these patterns because I’m a creative ecosystem that never stops growing, or because I’m procrastinating like a professional and avoiding the one thing that actually matters right now, printing my kids book, Uncommon Animals of the Alphabet?

Which ties perfectly into today’s blog prompt.

What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take for you to do it?

I’m right there. I’m inches from publishing this book. Inches. The files are ready. The animals are lined up. The letters are waiting. The uncommon are pacing backstage. And yet, I keep finding myself making patterns, designing shirts, dreaming up socks, tweaking wallpapers, rearranging the deck chairs instead of steering the ship.

So what am I actually scared of?

The obvious one is publishing the book and it failing. All that time. All that heart. All that hope. Just… thud.

But the darker, more honest one is publishing the book and it succeeding. Because success means visibility. Responsibility. Expectations. More people seeing your work means more people having opinions about it. Success isn’t just champagne, it’s accountability. It’s commitment. It’s now you actually have to be the artist you said you were. That’s terrifying.

Then there’s Amazon.

On paper, it’s the easy button. Global reach. Print on demand. Zero friction. Click, upload, done. The machine hums. The product ships. The exposure is instant.

But my gut, my bones, my mud stained, cloud watching, nature loving, small town soul is screaming, this is not your path.

Because Amazon isn’t just a bookstore. It’s a planet eating algorithm wearing a friendly smile. Environmental cost. Brutal. Humanitarian practices. Questionable at best, dystopian at worst. Union busting. Worker surveillance. Warehouse injury rates. Disposable humans. And while the planet is literally on fire, billionaires are shooting themselves into space like it’s a midlife crisis with rockets.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth. Every dollar is a vote. Every purchase is an endorsement. Every it’s just easier is another brick in a system I hate.

So yes, I could put my book on Amazon and call it practical. But I’d feel like I’d sold my values for convenience. And once you do that, the door doesn’t close behind you, it swings wide open and invites more compromises in. Suddenly you’re not building an art career anymore. You’re feeding a machine that doesn’t care if you exist.

That’s not why I started this.

I started this to support endangered artists. To support endangered animals. To make art that actually stands for something. To create things I’d be proud to hand to a kid and say, I know the people that printed this book that I created, they are the final collaboration in this artwork. 

So now I’m here, standing at the fork in the road again. One path is smooth, fast, shiny and soulless. The other is slower, harder, messier, but real.

Finding a local printer. One that treats people like humans. One that treats the planet like it’s not disposable. One where I can look at the finished book and say, this is mine. Not just legally, ethically.

Yes, that means more work. Yes, that means I have to handle distribution. Yes, that means no instant global reach. But it also means integrity. And integrity compounds quietly, slowly, powerfully, like roots under concrete.

And let’s not ignore the real twist here. All this ethical wrestling is also procrastination. A higher quality procrastination, sure, but still avoidance.

Because at some point, values become a shield. I’m not avoiding publishing, I’m just making sure it aligns with my ethics. Which is partly true. And partly fear in a lab coat.

So what would it take for me to do the thing I’m most scared of?

Not more patterns. Not more tweaking. Not more perfecting.

It would take choosing a printer. Pressing send. Letting the book exist in the world, imperfect, vulnerable, real. Accepting that it might flop. Accepting that it might fly. And doing it anyway.

Because the animals are counting on me. The aardvark. The babirusa. The narwhal. The dumbo octopus. The lynx. The flying fish. All the weirdos. All the overlooked. All the beautiful, strange, endangered creatures that deserve a page, a spotlight, a chance.

And if I don’t print this book, then what am I actually doing?

Making another pattern.

Which is lovely. And true. And still not the thing.

So yes, this crowned eagle t-shirt pattern is a celebration. It’s beautiful. It’s hypnotic. It’s nature multiplied. It deserves to exist.

But so does the book.

And one of these is play. The other is purpose.

And I already know what I have to do.

I just have to do it.