My soul is part bird. In kinship, the feathered nations come to me and teach my soul their secrets. The secrets I have forgotten, or have yet to learn, or the ones that remind me to defy gravity. Yesterday, lady cardinal, freshly expired with broken wing, called out to me. I scooped her off the side of the road and took her home. In honoring her body, I wanted to comfort her soul. It was she, in the end, who comforted me.
She reminded me in these times of great personal stress to notice and take care of the little things. To rest and to play and remember to laugh. To keep flowers close by and prayers at hand. To never stop trusting in miracles. To let the heart be heard.
Before I put her to rest in my garden, she gave me feathers from her wing. Needing them no longer, she told me to use them to rise above despair, to stay focused on the love in all outcomes and to keep my soul aloft.