I have been finding feathers recently. Serendipitously. It’s usually just a flash from the corner of my eye. Like intuition. Something says “Look this way” or my dog pulls strangely off the trail and stops, then I see it. It is very exciting. I have never found feathers before. I take a daily walk in the woods. First I found my totem animal’s (crow) feather, then a red-tailed hawk’s (which my dog ate), an owl’s, and a small bird’s. Each one has synced up with events or moments in my recent life where the feather seems to be an obvious omen or token of guidance.
Now each day when I walk with my sweetdog, I am noticing that I am scanning the ground for feathers. Because I want to collect them, and I want so earnestly to feel guided. I have never found a feather this way, and I know I just have to trust and not expect anything and then they appear when they need to appear. It’s so romantic(!) and significant(!!!) to find feathers all the time. So it’s almost automatic that my eyes just scrutinize the forest floor for the form of a feather. It’s exhausting for my eyes because there are thousands of repeating forms and I am looking for just a few.
So every day, I scuffle through the fall leaves and pine straw, I remind myself “Don’t look for feathers”, which just makes me think about feathers. “Don’t think of a pink elephant”. It keeps me a thought away from that bright intuition, which is easy and effortless. I am attached to looking and finding. Making something happen, when I know it just happens. It’s all unfolding. Trust. Trust. Trust.
Before it was feathers, it was “a guru, any guru”. Who is my guru? Where can I go to find him/her? Is it her? Can’t be him. Constantly looking and searching and shuffling through forms in exasperation–desperation. It didn’t matter how many times I read that “the guru is within” or “God=Guru=Self”. It’s always: “Yeh but….”.
When I am quiet, that voice that speaks to me inside and says “look over there…. ahh a feather”…. that’s the guru. My intuition, is the voice of the guru–the voice of God. They are the same. And that voice is not Indian. That voice is not a little man in a blanket or a woman who gives hugs. In fact the form of Maharaj-ji and Amma are not it at all. It’s that spirit that is moving around inside of them. And I think my work is not finding them, not putting up pictures of them and talking to them (which are useful reminders), but trying to identify with my intuition. Identifying with that part within me that is just like what is within them. That part of us which is in the flow without resistence.
Love to hear your thoughts. That feels right to me at the moment so I goes wif it.