Worthiness Wednesday #37 The gifts of believing

This little vignette has been marinating at the back of my mind for a long time. Today's #reverb11 post coaxed it out to play. I am a little self-conscious in sharing it. It feels really close and private, and a little esoteric. I am not sure how useful I could make it for others... but...

Deep breath. Dive in.

The day we brought our newborn little 'un home from the hospital, we noticed a rapid wild flurry in the back garden. I was sitting on the couch in the living room, holding my sleeping babe, staring out the window, still in a daze from the enormity of what had just happened and the dawning of what was to come.

Had I blinked, I would have missed it: a baby eagle speared a magpie in our back garden.

The wily predator must have been circling close by, then chose his moment with stealth and precision. There was the tiniest of struggles, and then both birds were gone, leaving a scattering of black and white feathers in their wake.

At the time, I was amazed by the power and majesty of the tiny creature outside... and secretly wondered if it was an omen for the tiny creature in my arms. After all, it was said that crows came to nest outside the house where a certain Tibetan boy, the one who became the 14th Dalai Lama, was born.

From then on, wherever I walked, I would see magpie feathers on the ground. I wondered if they were a reminder to me that I was the mother of an incredible human being, who would go on to great things. I also wondered if they were a little sign to me, the universe reminding me that I was not forgotten. Another inner voice speculated that perhaps I lived in an area where lots of magpies chose to nest, and that perhaps it was nesting season.

Just over two years later, on my birthday, something else occurred to me:

What if that omen was not meant for my daughter? What if it was meant for me?

I discussed this with my therapist. I knew she would not ridicule me for my superstition, and I also knew that she would not be skeptical about what I saw. I also hoped that as a committed and practicing Buddhist (who even has her own Tibetan Lama), she might know something about the significance of the omen in other cultural traditions.

We pondered the significance of the timing, and its relevance to the work we were doing together. We also considered what each type of bird represented: the eagle as solitary, skilled, majestic, predatory for its basic needs; the magpie as a collector, a proud nester, vocal, protective of its young but often ineffectively (e.g. swooping at cyclists, who actually bear no threat).

I came away completely comfortable with the omen and its meaning but perhaps more importantly: my capacity to receive it.

I sometimes see myself doubt my instincts. I also witness the way I compare myself unfavourably with other people's spiritual journeys and out-of-the-ordinary experiences. Perhaps this is partly envy for their mystical writing styles, but partly also the sense of openness and child-like wonder that seems to pervade their daily lives.

Sometimes I feel superficial, unimaginative, buried in the daily grind. Sometimes it feels like "every body else" is freer, more artistic, more spiritually aware.

I want to share my omen and my experience with it today, because I suspect we all have secret stories like this that we keep intensely private. Perhaps we are afraid of ridicule. But perhaps we doubt that they are valid, that they mean anything significant, that we are significant.

Today, I would like to invite you to take a moment and think about a special, very private story that is yours and yours alone. It doesn't have to be spiritual, esoteric or out-of-the-ordinary: it just needs to be special to you. How could you honour this story today?

Since my birthday, I have not seen any magpie feathers on the ground. Maybe nesting season is over. Or maybe the universe has finally caught my attention. I might not be tuned in to my superpowers all the time, but when I need to, I can listen. I can hear the stories that are only mine to tell. And I can choose to share them too.

We all have our own story to tell, and it seems to me that in times of uncertainty, fear or overwhelm, the most powerful thing we can do is to tell it to ourselves... allow ourselves to really hear it.

We are all children of the universe, and we are worthy of signs that we matter.