I believe in signals.
I don’t necessarily mean celestial flare guns that hit you in your third eye while riding your unicorn into the highlands of Narnia. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, if that is how you receive your heavenly bite-sized snacks.
The signals I talk about are a little bit more down to earth, and yet, are far from this earth. They glide in on wavelengths we can’t see, but can feel and absorb.
A couple of weeks ago I started to notice feathers in my travels. The first few were on runs. I’d find them in pristine condition even though they were surrounded by muddy puddles and debris. I would pick them up, examine them briefly, then put them in a cupboard. I didn’t think much of them until it was mentioned to me that they were signs. Signals that angels, or spiritual guides, were watching nearby. Someone also noted that is was a sign that I was on the right path. Question was – the right path of what?
I find feathers daily now. I don’t know if it’s because my eyes are more open to them, but there they are – of all sizes and condition. One tiny one, ruffled and dirty, is stuck to my car’s front windshield. I almost rear ended someone the other day because I was mesmerized by it.
Signals come to me often in my meditations.
My meditation is not the type where I empty the mind. I do that style now and then, but meditation for me is more about tuning into a signal that’s out there, but blocked by the white noise of my endless thoughts. I sit still and calm my mind. I find that sweet spot of a state where I am awake yet not drifting into sleep, and make sure I have created the intention to stay open. Then I start to ask questions. It’s a Ouija board without the cheap plastic.
I will almost always hear answers. If I don’t hear anything, I rephrase the question. Sometimes the answers come from my thinking mind. I can tell, because, well, I can just tell. The thinking mind is often more pragmatic, but also underlined with ego. I know its voice well. I can get some practical responses from the thinking mind, but I crave something more, something more outside and yet within me. The answers I get are sometimes cryptic. They use language I don’t normally use day to day. The voice is quieter, but more present. It’s avuncular in some ways (and I mean that – I have done guided meditations on spirit guides, and I have seen my late uncle in several of those. He was a follower of Eastern philosophies and spiritual practices.)
I used to think I was talking to God, or a Higher Power. What I have come to realize is that I am talking to my Higher Self, my higher form. It’s me, supersized, and without the negative crap that my thinking mind likes to lather on me like peanut butter on toast. It’s my developed self, free of judgement and ill will. It’s me, as the Universe would have me be. And that is where I learn things. That is where I hear what I need to hear, even when I don’t want to hear it.
I will sometimes write these things down. Other times I will repeat it so I remember (I don’t!) But I will always come away with a sense of ease and comfort. I feel that I am taken care of, that I am bound to something greater than this sack of meat on legs.
It was suggested that I take the feathers I kept and if I had one, put it with a medicine bag. I happen to have one. My youngest is adopted, and is half Cree. We made medicine bags one day at a powwow. So I took the advice and just the other day I put the pouch around my neck, with the feathers. I focused on my spirit guide, and meditated. I felt an opening in my chest, where the medicine bag hung. I could feel more energy surging through me. I was beseeched by my Higher Self to let go of everything I though of myself and just be the beautiful soul I was. Don’t resist. Trust. Have faith. Fly, young man, fly.
I felt something crack open a bit. I felt a rush, like it was who I was supposed to be, for just one second. It was something way beyond what ego or money or fame could ever bring. It was full being. It was what I felt enlightenment could be like. And then, it was gone.
Poof. It was a trip.
Other signals are more earthly. I was sent a wonderful gift by two marvellous friends, Dan and Mark, who really encouraged my writing and my journey on that particular path (a touching story I will pass on soon). Later on, I received the digital copy of my upcoming book to look over. It was another wonderful friend, Hearon, who put the two together and asked me if I thought it was a coincidence that I got the inspired package and the electronic proof on the same day. Of course not. It never is.
More signals. Markers, landmarks and directions. Stay the path.
The greatest gift I can give myself is the open-mindedness to put my faith in these divine divining rods pointing towards deeper truths. I have no reason not to. Ever since I started my spiritual journey (cliched phrase, but so be it), I have been guided in many ways. I know from experience that in ignoring the signs, I tend to suffer. They are one of the antidotes to my pride and ego. They keep me true.
Signals let me know that I am walking where I need to be walking. They point out the land mines and the pitfalls. They guide me to where I need to go to grow. When I first started to see signals, I was blown away. I now almost rely on them. They still blow me away, but they are more comforting rather than strange.
One not be a mystic or psychic to catch onto these signals. All you need is to be open to them, eyes wide to their sometimes soft signs, and willing to seek.
If you keep your eyes shut, you will never see the feather laying between your feet.