Cresting the top of the hill a giant crow on the top of a barren pine caught my eye. I assumed it was a hawk. Just the other day I spotted eight hawks both near and far; one even flying directly in my path. They all seemed to be granting a direct message from the Spirit. What the message was, if I recall correctly from my years of dream/medicine analysis is, “Pay attention.”
I will admit to praying much more recently than ever in my life. Doesn't it seem that the harder the path is to climb the more we realize how crucial our connection is to the universe? I've also been taking a little extra “me” time, though I wouldn't mind tripling that 10 minutes a day. My absolute sobriety, with the exception of a blood pressure regulating, migraine blasting, moderate helping of caffeine has surprised no one more than myself. Why AM I sober? I guess I'm looking for me, the person I lost track of a long time ago. I'll text if I find her. Back to my crow, the spirit messenger. It cawed proudly on top of that dead Ponderosa. I continued on the journey to the top of the hill. Then suddenly there's a murder, too many to count, all screeching and making a fuss about whatever crows care about. They circled around their leader; was it a crow or a raven? “Lots of shiny stuff over there.” I decide to listen. I sat on the porch stair instead of walking through the door. A frog croaked without concern of the birds or my approach. Must be nice, being a frog. I haven’t heard frogs for years. I assumed they all disappeared. The giant black birds were still making a racket, but I remained still. I opened my heart in case I needed to receive an important communication. Someday I plan to be a bird. The raven or crow, the monstrously large one, obviously the boss, soared directly over me. She was flying low. The bursts of wind whooshed, smacking the air under her wings. I have never heard that sound before. It was mesmerizing, like the beat of a drum. Strong and steady she came right for me, then cried out, and immediately changed course directly above. I was left to ponder. I’m glad she didn’t poop on me, lucky sign in Asian culture or not. That was a big bird. Crossing my fingers this crow doesn't represent “sorrow,” as that haunting, old nursery rhyme seems to indicate. I'd prefer a greeting from the other side from one of the many spirits I plan to meet again when I get there. “Hey, Anita. It’s nice here. No dishes or laundry. No one destroys the environment for fleeting capital gain.” I shared this story with my husband, minus the message I was hoping for. “She wanted the frog, you ruined her meal.” Either way, I'd rather wander aimlessly searching for hidden messages than do the never-ending chores.
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My mind wandersI write whatever I'm thinking in no particular order Archives
July 2023
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