I wanted to play an abundance game with myself.
Like how some people look for hearts, or notice a certain time or number, or collect feathers as a way to bring more awareness to something. Love, whispers from the Universe, signs of guidance or the like.
A couple of months ago I tied the few feathers I had with a piece of yarn creating a mini garland of four. It hangs on the window sill of my living room and I love the energy that bit of wild nature brings. I imagined how wonderful it would be for that garland to grow and reach across the entire sill- an altar to found abundance.
I could open my awareness of abundance and manifesting energy by looking for, receiving, feathers!
I’ll do it, I thought. I will start intentionally calling feathers to me! It was going to be fun, easy, magical.
Before I went out into the world that day I visualized finding beautiful feathers. I asked the unseens to place them in my path. I imaged my garland full and beautiful.
I felt good, hopeful, a bit the witchy conjurer.
15 minutes later I pulled into the parking garage downtown anticipating easy parking, a lovely visit to the farmer’s market and of course, feathers.
What I saw was a dead pigeon.
Yes there were feathers, but No, no, no, No, NO! This was NOT what I wanted.
I wanted feathers, not a dead bird! I wanted gracefully delivered, delicately floating feathers. Feathers cosmically and gently put before me as offerings from the loving and generous universe.
Not. A. Dead. Bird.
I tell you, I was a bit freaked out. I drove past the bird and around the first level of the garage and finding no parking had to circle around again to go up to the next level.
Past the dead bird.
Which I did not want to see.
So I looked the other way.
Nope, no dead bird here, la, la, la…
You can probably guess that I did not found any other feathers.
I was left unsettled.
It stayed with me, leaving me uncomfortable. Like there was more to this story than I was allowing. Like seeing that dead bird was important, not random. Like the greater mystery of life was at play.
That bird was a power symbol, it wasn’t letting me go, and I was not comfortable with that.
A few days later still feeling weird about the whole thing, I told my husband the story. He listened patiently and then in his shaman way (yes I am married to a shaman, it comes in handy) points out the difference between the result of abundance (feathers) and the source of abundance (the bird). You can get feathers in two ways: by the bird shedding them, or by the bird dying.
Can’t have the feathers with out the bird. Can’t have abundance with out Source.
Okay. Right. Light headed perspective shift time for me. I was looking, wanting, the result of abundance. The feathers. And when presented with the source of that abundance, the bird, I looked the other way. I actively avoided it. I rejected it. Because I didn’t like the way it presented itself. Because I was only interested in the result. When I turned away, I also rejected the gift in the death of this bird.
I saw Source and I rejected it.
I was unwilling to see the grittiness of abundance. The rawness of Source. The fact that sometimes, abundance comes out of death and endings. Sometimes you shed tears of pain before the tears of joy. Sometimes the miracle is well protected in the brambles of life.
Houses are built because trees are cut. Chicken soup is only possible it the chicken dies. The inheritance making life easier comes at the loss of a dear one.
Sometimes we are beat up and bruised by the ride of abundance. Ask any mom joyously holding her new born. Ask any farmer harvesting her fields. Ask any hunter who takes a life so others may eat. Source is the all of life. If I want to truly know abundance as more than a convenient parlor trick, I have to be willing to be with the all of Source. Cycles, rhythms, timing, birthing, living, dying, waxing, waning. Triumph and failure. Shine and grit.
I can’t avoid the sometimes harshness of abundance by wanting less, paring down my desires. But I can willingly open to the tenderness and vulnerability of deep gratitude and reverence for that which is sacrificed or lost.
This dead bird in a grimy parking garage has taught me see and honor the source of the abundance. Even when I don’t like how it is showing up. As I do it strips way all pretense that I am in this life alone. It illuminates the edginess and giddiness of belonging to a world where loss can be the portal of generosity of being.
But only if I let it.
The grittiness of abundance, we don’t often hear about that.
I saw that pigeon because I needed to. It was the response to my witchy conjuring, was the gift of a loving and generous universe. That pigeon was a message from greater Source to not get taken in by the parlor games of abundance, the glamor we over manifestation. It affirmed for me that I am here to know Source, full on, even the bits that leave me shaken and a bit roughed up. Even when I want to turn away.
I want more light, more ease, more beauty and will continue to look for and create that.
I also want to honor and receive the gift of grit when it comes.
