The reaction to my previous post has inspired me to get back to it with this whole blogging thing. WOW. Thank you. I went through some of my drafts this past weekend and found the post below. Its prescience rendered me speechless. I wrote those words before Taproot, before Wyoming, before beginning my journalling practice, before my homeschooling breakdown/breakthrough, before enrolling in spiritual direction certification. Finding it now feels like the echo from an angel in a dream. Our intuition is so incredibly powerful. It only we took the time to listen to it. xoS
I can’t stop finding feathers. I can’t stop finding butterfly wings. We went to the river on Sunday and a pair of dragonfly wings were laying at my feet. They looked like plastic – crystal clear and shiny – but when I picked them up, thinking they were litter, they were too perfectly shaped and too ethereal to be plastic. I looked closer and realized I was holding a wing. I looked down and saw its mate. A pair of glassine dragonfly wings. At my feet. On Solstice, I went for a short walk and found a butterfly wing and half of a robin’s egg.
All these remnants of flight seem to be leaving a trail of whispers in their wake: fly . . .
Listening to feathers and eggshells and wings sounds more than a little bit cray cray – but all of these outside urgings are really just echoes of the crescendo I’m hearing inside.
I think I lied in my last from Wholeness post. I said it takes a cavern full of courage to listen to what our hearts are saying. I don’t believe this anymore – if I ever did. Perhaps all we need is exactly all we have.