NEWSFLASH - Books and Birds

Years back I used to do a monthly NEWSFLASH update on life. The idea was started by another blogger, Jeff. I haven't used the concept in ages, but thought I'd give it a go again. :-) I'm changing one thing - I'm bunching up categories.

Nature Entertainment Wise words Spirit Family Lessons Art Smiles Health

Nature and Entertainment

The biggest entertainment this Spring has been the birds. We have at least four sparrows nesting in our roof as well as two crow families on either side of us. And then there's that very tame seagull, who keeps hoping for a snack...

Our garden is never quiet!

Wise words and Spirit 

My wise words always come from another blogger. This time I'm quoting the great queen of Blog4Peace, Mimi.This is from her gorgeous post, "What I Know About Love."

"Sometimes love comes to unravel us.
Let it."

 Family 

Not much to update. We all have the flu at the moment. Beyond coughing, sniffing and groaning we're enjoying a lovely warm sunny June as much as we can. 

Lessons and Art 

This past week I published a small book of poems. It's a simple book, made mostly so that those friends who like my poems will stop nagging. ;-) The longest part, and most fun, was creating black and white art to go along with the poems. Here's an example...

  This is Corrie, our little wild crow friend, from one of her baby photos...

 Smiles and Health

Biggest smile this month is also book related. I had a fantastic review of my book, First Light.You can find the entire review on So Bookalicious. Here's a small quote:

You know the feeling when you’ve only read a couple of pages of a book and you think “this book will blow away my mind”? That’s the exact feeling I had when I read FirstLight. 

This book made me feel overwhelmed at times in a good way because of its complexity. Michelle Frost is a master in developing plotlines....

Thoughtful Thursday ~ Dance!

Every few years I like to go back and look at some of my oldest posts, to see how far this journey has taken me. This week, Hubby reminded me of my very first blog post, written back in April 2007. Even now, seven years later, it's still one of my most favourite blog posts. It still holds all the truths of who I am as well as the journeys I've taken over the years, both personally and with my book writing. I've pasted the post here, but added pictures to it, for this Thoughtful Thursday.

Dance

Last year I watched a TV documentary series called "Extraordinary People". The episode I enjoyed the most followed the life of a blind brain-damaged young man who is a musical savant. He has the intelligence level of a four year old and yet he plays jazz like a genius. At one stage he was given the chance to listen to an entire orchestra. He then "translated" the entire performance into a piano solo. It was awesome!

He flew from the UK to Las Vegas (with his beanbag toy elephant for company), to do a concert to raise money for disabled kids. There he met a boy with autism, who is also blind and plays classical music, and two other gifted musical kids: a blind girl on a violin and another autistic boy who plays the keyboard. Together they had a jam session that rocked the roof off. They were brilliant. The one psychiatrist studying them said that they are now thinking that music is the "Universal code" that drives us at a deeper level than language or any other sense-related ability. It makes sense to me. I've always loved music.

Three years ago I popped on some soothing music to try to meditate. I've always liked the idea of meditating, but my mind doesn't understand the concept of emptiness. It is a cage full of budgies, all wanting to scream their favourite word the loudest. But this one time I actually got it right, one of those rare perfect moments when things just click together. Maybe it was because I didn't try so hard? Maybe it was because I was desperate for an answer that my conscious mind couldn't provide. 

I was desperate for an answer to a crossroad I'd reached in my life regarding my religious/spiritual beliefs. I was born into a family that, counting both my mother and father's sides, span almost every variation of Christianity out there. As a result my parents had a more laid-back attitude to church attendance than many. Being a church-goer was never viewed as the only road to Heaven. I grew up with the unspoken message that all religions lead to God and therefore were of equal value. 

It was only when I went out into the world that I began to realise that not everyone was as open-minded. I was warned I was "in danger of being a Pantheist" by a teacher, when I was in Junior school. I had to go look it up in a dictionary at the time. I had to admit, what I read did sound a lot like me. It was the first time I remember feeling both relief and a vague guilt/unease at who I was. So I was a Pantheist... why was that a dangerous thing?

In high school and college, more devoted Christian friends tried to convert me to their "way". Although they meant well they left me feeling less acceptable and worthy. Sometimes depressing. Sometimes annoying. Why do some people think they know what is best for you better than you do? It's like they see you happily being a square peg in a perfectly geometric world of your own and simply cannot stop themselves from trying to squash you repeatedly into a round hole. Or, worse still, they whip out all these abrasive words in a desperate attempt to file the corners off your square soul. Words that imply you are "wrong", or "bad", for simply being true to yourself. Ultimately there are only two people who know you: yourself and God. Other people have a right to their opinions, but that is all they can ever be - opinions.

That was why I found myself trying to meditate; to try to find the "me" I had lost along the long journey through so many other people's opinions. As a child, I'd known who I was and been happy. In my twenties, I'd faced confrontation and fought back, the way you do when you are young and rather full of self-righteousness. In my thirties, I'd expanded my friendships to include a wonderful range of equally wonderful people from a variety of different belief systems: Neo-Pagan, Wiccan, Buddhist and Native American Shamanism.

My thirties were a time of tremendous personal expansion, but it was also a time where I started to wobble... like a spinning top that has hit the edge too many times.  It was clear I had wobbled so far off the path that I didn't know how to find my way back.

A friend suggested meditation to clear my mind and see the way home. I tried... nothing. Or to be exact, too much! I'd sit there and my mind would gabble and chatter about everyday life until I either fell asleep or got bored and gave up. Then one day, I was pottering around the internet and read a woman asking similar questions. She was a Catholic considering becoming a Neo-Pagan. She was standing at the edge of everything she had been taught to believe was good and evil. She had left a message asking for help, and someone had replied, "Pray for guidance - then listen."

Seemed fairly sensible advice. I decided to try it myself. For once and for all, I needed to know if being ME was okay with whoever/whatever was "Up There." I said a small prayer to that extent and sat down to wait and listen... and for the first time EVER all those manic budgies in my brain finally shut up. 

Silence

  Real silence

  Cellular level peace and quiet

Was this meditating? I closed my eyes and let the silence take over... I found myself standing at the edge of a lake at sunset. Someone was walking across the water towards me. A bearded guy in a long robe.

Jesus?

Hell...  Jesus?

I dismissed the thought as stupid, but as he walked up the shore to me I could see the holes in his hands and feet. I didn't know what to do. So I was honest and I said, "You're the last person I was expecting to see."

He burst out laughing and it was such a joy-filled infectious laughter that we both fell about laughing for a while. Then he took my hands and we walked out onto the water together and we danced. With stars above and stars reflected in the dark water below, we danced. And as we dance he "exploded" into the stars and became the Universe itself...

...and then I found myself back on the shore.

I'm not sure how long I stood there before he appeared, walking back across the water towards me once again. Only this time he was carrying something. A crow. He said, "This is for you," and the crow hopped from his arm to my shoulder.

I opened my eyes and I was back in the same room in my same house.

I have a Native American friend who had sent me an internet link to totem animals a year before. I went and looked up crow. I saved some of the bits I found there. Can't give credit to the author as I lost the links a few years back so apologies for that.

"Human law is not the same as Sacred Law. More so than any other medicine, Crow sees that the physical world and even the spiritual world, as humanity interprets them, are an illusion. There are billions of worlds. There are an infinitude of creatures. Great Spirit is within all."

"Crow is the totem of the Great Spirit and must be respected as such."

The bringer of the Holy Spirit had brought me the symbol of another culture's Great Spirit.

Now, I keep thinking about those supposedly "disabled" kids and how they've tapped into creativity and Creation at a level we can only daydream about. Music and Creation. Music and life itself. Dancing on water and amongst the stars. Ancient peoples used dancing and singing to connect to the Source...

Is faith merely (re)learning how to dance on water?

Was the world created in seven days or seven notes?

I think I really like that idea! Holy and Great, Human and Sacred exploding together in a universe of infinite possibilities. Different music, different steps, but always the same Dance. 

 I have found my way back to the Dance.

I hope you have found yours.

Boy? Girl?

...
Hubby's new "friend", the baby wild crow, has been back several times since she first popped into our lives on the 1st of August. I put "she", because from the first meeting hubby has been convinced 'Corry' (short nickname form of Corvid) is a girl crow.

Girl? Boy?
Was there a way to tell?

Crows really don't give their gender away in feather colours or body shapes, like some bird species do.

So the other day I took time to really watch and observe, to decide for myself.

When hubby's in the garden Corry walks with him, talking constantly...

When he turned his back and pretended to ignore the constant chatting...

Corry became annoyed and tugged at his trousers!

Which leads me to think hubby is right - Corry is a girl.
Only a girl would become annoyed when a man stops listening to her. ;-)

The final proof for me that Corry is female is her reaction to me. Corry was nervous of me at first, so hubby gave me a kiss, to prove I was a friend.

Corry looked me up and down with distinct disapproval...

...before turning her back on me and walking away.

I think I have a rival. ;-)
...

Corvid Conviviality ;-)

...

Last Monday was a really strange day. I had to be at the hospital early, with my mom who had to stay there all day for her operation pre-assessment. and dad had to ALSO be at the hospital in the afternoon, to be booked in for surgery the next day.

So hubby played taxi service all day, including taking dad into town in the morning, to run some errands before he went in to hospital. Hubby had just returned home from dropping us off when he heard a crow "cawing" and talking to itself... from below?

He looked down... and there at his feet was a baby crow!



It decided hubby is the new "uncle".
It flew up onto the gate and started "chatting" to him...



then flew up onto his shoulder and started nibbling his glasses!
He took these photos with his mobile phone, including this one below, of Baby sitting on his shoulder.



Dad saw it all through the window. He went out and took this photo of hubby holding Baby Crow, who had been trying to eat a rubber stopper that had fallen off our lawnmower handle.

And here he is trying to remove freckles from Hubby's arm.
This "game" didn't last too long!

'Where did my freckly arm go?'

'Oh, There you are!'

By the time I got home with mom it was gone, but the next morning it came back and "chatted" to us both through the bedroom window. It tolerates me, but Hubby is definitely its favourite human.

This morning we found it sitting on the front step investigating a parcel the postman had left for me. Cheeky blighter! ;-)

...

Crow's Feet Revisited

...

This month I gave my blog a revamp. I finally got around to updating to the new templates, chose a new background (after trying out hundreds, like a typical woman in a shoe shop!) and then...

I stuck.

I looked at my name, "Crow's Feet" and felt frustrated. With a new look, new background, new pages (check out Scenic Scotland) the name suddenly looked OLD. It felt out of date and not relevant anymore. :-\

Then last week we drove down so that I could meet up with an Internet friend. The first thing she did when we met was hand me a little bag and say, "Happy Birthday! This is meant for you."

I opened it up and inside was...

the most wonderful silver bird on a chain.

Not a crow. This bird is a water bird, but I took one look at those adorable dangly feet and even though these are webbed I got the message - BIRD FEET. Goofy bird feet, smart feet, funny feet... crow's feet.

This weekend I started remembering why I chose that name in the first place. My blog title states that my writing is "a journey" that I'm taking with "crow's feet, in more ways than one."

What were those original ways?

The first one relates to how many crows I've come into contact with here in Scotland. Of the four houses we have lived in, three have come with resident crows. I'd forgotten to mention that the crow family are all still alive and well here at this house.

The second one is another I haven't mentioned on my blog in a long time - how Crow was given to me as a spiritual guide. I'd forgotten the blessings of Crow.

The third is a fairly obvious one - crow's feet wrinkles denote aging and (hopefully) maturity and experience. I'd forgotten that experience is an ongoing adventure. Sometimes the only way to tell how much progress we've made in life is to look back at our footprints trailing away behind us.

I looked back yesterday and was surprised to see how far I have come. It doesn't always feel like I'm getting anywhere, especially when I'm so busy struggling forwards that I forget to check my footprints.... which leads me to the fourth way.

This is one I've never blogged about... and had completely forgotten about. I started writing my first blog post in hospital. While I was in hospital I dreamt a crow landed on my bed, handed me a quill pen (crow feather, of course!) and told me, "Write!"

I'd forgotten that crow's feet are crow's words.

Thank you Ritva, for reminding me of who I am and how I fly.

...

Bun Warmer

...
Bunny Boy is back in the garden and has once again setting out his favourite snooze spots. Photos taken from the kitchen window tend to produce a small bunny blob, but at least it gives readers an idea of Bunny Boy's territory.


"Bunny Birdbath" is a concrete birdbath shaped a bit like a mushroom. BB (Bunny Boy) likes to sleep with his back up against that birdbath, especially on windy or rainy days. On sunny days he sleeps in a hollow in the grass... where he is in this photo on the right.

In between his two snooze spots lies bird territory. The tree and African birdbath belong to all the small birds and the grass in front belongs to the big birds. There was a female pheasant in the garden when I took the photo, so I labelled her as well. :-) The African birdbath is actually a grinding stone - for grinding grain. It has been in our family for three generations.

The little birds get seed in feeder tubes in the tree. For the crows I put food left overs and bread out on the grass. The seagulls usually try to get there first to gobble everything, so the crows have figured a plan. They grab the bread... and bury it! They either hide it in our garden under leaves or bushes, or they take it into the farm fields and literally bury it in the fields.
When the bread is dry the crows bring it back to dunk in the bird baths. They prefer their food moist. Smart birds, crows. ;-)

Well... this Saturday I'm standing in the kitchen watching BB sleep against his birdbath when suddenly he goes stiff... stares behind him. There on the wall is a crow, GLARING at BB. For a while they just sat there staring each other down. I'd never seen that happen before.

The crow hopped down and started walking towards BB, but BB did the macho-bunny thing of staring him down... till the last moment. Crows are big birds with sharp beaks. At the very last moment, just before he was in beak range, BB took a big leap sideways, then stretched and yawned... with his fuzzy tail facing the crow! As if he was saying, "I'll get out of your way, but I'll put my rear in your face." I think the message was clear?

Crow dashed over to the birdbath... and pulled out a bread slice! That was why the crow was so edgy - BB had been lying sleeping on some stashed crow bread. Once the crow had his lunch he was happy and BB returned to sleeping.

glitter-graphics.com
I've heard of toasted bread and warm buns, but bread warmed by a bun... ? I bet Bunny warmed bread is tastier than cold bread straight out the ground.
...

Crow Clan Photos

..
I forgot! I managed to take some photos last week of the Crow family. This first one shows all three - Mrs Crow and Kid Crow together, dad a bit higher up, keeping lookout.


The whole family together in the fields - you can just see Mrs Crow's grey waistcoat (crow on the far left).


...

Feathered Friendship

...
Yesterday our crow family did something really strange and rather interesting. They also "talked" again and this time I was able to get a closer look at my conversation partner - it's definitely Mr crow. For those who haven't been following - our area of farmland and wilderness is claimed by a crow mixed couple. Mr crow is a sleek glossy carrion crow and his wife is a hooded crow, wearing a very smart charcoal waistcoat. :-)

I've been feeding them left overs and scraps for almost a year now and they've slowly become more tame. It's been slow because these are farm crows and used to being chased away. Last year they had one chick and their "teenager" still lives with them - kid crow. ;-) They're a very close family, sharing together, chatting to each other. Kid crow sometimes wanders off alone, but then Mom goes after the kid, yelling and scolding. She's still not happy letting her chick wander off, even though kid crow is adult sized and over eight months old at this stage.

Every time I feed them I make the same noise, to bring them over. I "click" like a rider does to a horse. Recently I heard one of the crows reply with a "CLACK CLACK" sound when I clicked. Since then they've been quiet again, but yesterday it happened again. I went out to throw them some stale bread and they flew closer. Close enough that I can now report it is Mr Crow that CLACKS. He has a very fine deep voice. He sounds exactly like someone hitting a post with a hammer.

Both the crows and I had to wait as there were dozens of gulls flying over. These gull are bigger than the crows and more aggressive so I try to wait till they're not around before throwing out food or I throw some over the wall for the crows and then scatter more in the yard for the gulls. It doesn't always work, but at least it gives the crows more of a chance to dash in and grab bread. Yesterday the gulls were simply too many and too hostile. I tried yelling and waving my arms at them (must have looked demented, come to think of it), but they wouldn't let the crows near. Eventually both the crows and I gave up and let the gulls have the bread.

Later, I was upstairs pottering on the computer when I heard loud gull cries. I thought they might be on the roof and went over to the window (upstairs is in the loft/roof space and the windows open onto the roof). The gulls were flying over the house and I watched them, thinking anti-gull thoughts because they are so noisy and anti-social. I was thinking "I wish I was a HUGE crow, then I'd fly out there and chase you all off!" when a shadow caught my attention. Mr and Mrs crow had come over and were flying slow and low between me and the gulls!

It was so strange and rather nice. Were they simply protecting their food source from the gulls or am I now an honorary crow family member? Kind of... Aunty crow? Whatever the case, it felt very nice to have them come over and support me in feathered friendship. :-)
...

Crow-munication

...

As I've mentioned before, our garden and surrounding area is owned by a crow family - mom, dad and teenage kid. I put out our left overs and bread bits for them. They're nervous of people and usually fly off when I go out, returning ages later to check for food, which means the gulls get it first a lot of the time. The gulls here are bullies!

I've been trying to get the crows to understand that it's safe by making the same noise every time I leave food for them. I always click, like a rider does to a horse. I do that because it's a fairly easy noise to make and I can "click" pretty loud. Loud enough for crows at the bottom of a field to hear me. Over the last few months they have lernt to come when they hear me. The moment I "click" they fly over fast, wait nearby until I go inside, then dash for the food.

Last week that all changed. I was outside putting out food, but couldn't see the crows anywhere. When I clicked I heard a really odd noise. I clicked again... and there up on the wires was Father Crow, clacking back to me! He sounded like someone hitting a metal pipe with a hammer, but it was definitely a reply clack to my click every time. How thoughtful of him to try to communicate back in my "language"!

I can't wait to see if he keeps it up. I wonder if the rest of the family will learn the new language as well?
...

Crows

...
When we first moved into this house in April last year I wrote briefly about the crows that came to eat any scraps I threw out for them. Today I realised that I've never updated on our charming crow family. Unfortunately I have virtually no photographs. The crows are not happy about cameras and fly off the moment I pick up anything. Since we live in a farming area where crows are shot by farmers it's not surprising that they're so wary. They're perfectly happy to come down in our garden when we're around, but not if we pick up cameras, binoculars... anything the crows don't recognise as food!

Since I moved to Scotland six years ago my life has been full of crows. The first house we lived in we had a single crow that mimicked the seagulls. I have no idea why as both the crows and the gulls hated it and would chase him away when he did so. Was he a bit mad or did he just enjoy the joke? I have no idea! From there we moved twice (renting is a pain) to houses where crows dabbled and dallied, but it's only been since living in this recent house that I've had a chance to watch crow family behaviour up close.

We live bang in the middle of a territory claimed by a pair of crows. They seem to own about two farm fields, our house and a strip of wilderness along the road. Theirs is a "mixed marriage". It's taken me months to figure out who was who. Mr Crow is a gorgeous sleek black Carrion Crow, but his wife is a Hooded Crow. I haven't any close photos, but found wonderful illustrations on the RSPB website.

Mr Carrion Crow

Mrs Hooded Crow
Last Spring/Summer they had one chick, a rather mottled Crow Junior. It is now January and Crow Junior is still living at home with his/her parents. Admittedly the "teen" is a bit rebelious and doesn't always follow orders from his/her parents, but they're still a close-knit family group.

When I put out food the ritual is this - Dad Crow comes in close and sits up high to watch for danger. Mom Crow flies low and fast across the garden to see what's on offer. If she likes what she sees she goes to her partner and calls. He calls in junior who sometimes refuses to come over. Then Mom flies to wherever he is and yells at him. Mostly he comes over if she yells at him!

If it's a little food they each take their share. If it's a lot Mom and Dad Crow take the extra and bury it for later in several stash places - in the corner rockery, in the field and in a small fenced off patch where the seagulls never go (too overgrown). The gulls are BIG here and very agressive so the crows have to act fast as they are no match for the bigger greedier gulls.

The only time they will take on the gulls is if the crow clan gathers. If they can get together twenty or so crows then they will chase the gulls or any other birds, off their land. Interestingly they never chase off their "cousins" - the Jackdaws and Rooks.

I love it when the Crow clans gather to fly. They are a delight to watch. Seagulls soar over us in perfect spirals, geese stream past in tidy skeins and regimented V formation and even the small birds fly in some kind of tidy order, but not the crows. Crows flying in groups mess about too much. They tease, they chase, they veer off to look at something and nearly bump into each other. There's no group mind-set where everyone flies synchrnised, like the gulls and the geese. Each crow is an individual doing his own thing.

They're silly, happy, loud and messy... they're NEVER tidy. I love that and I love the way they make flying look fun. Not beautiful or graceful, but just messy-flappy zip and zoom duck-n- dive FUN. :-) I can't watch crows flying without wanting to laugh. Eagles leave me in awe and swans flying make me want to cry because they are so beautiful, but it's only when I watch crows playing in the sky that I wish I had wings.

Waiting for a Snack...

...
We have a pair of crows nesting in nearby trees. They started out as my "garbage disposal" unit for leftovers and stale bread, but now come every evening in the hope of a snack. I'm not sure whether this is Mr or Mrs Crow.

This is a hooded crow (the colouring looking like a grey jacket and black "hood").

Who am I?

Who am I?

I am Crow. :-)

But lately I have forgotten that, until Crow used ShastriX to remind me.

When I first started moving from being a (unorthodox) Christian towards Shamanism I asked God's opinion if the path I was choosing was the right one. In Dance I told the story of how I received a Crow from Jesus in a meditation. I told briefly what Crow means to some Native American people, but lately I'd forgotten what it means to me to be Crow.

Quote:

If you have a crow as a totem, you need to be willing to walk your talk and speak your truth. You must put aside your fear of being a voice in the wilderness and "caw" the shots as you see them. Crow is an omen of change. If he keeps appearing to you he may be telling you that you have a powerful voice when addressing issues that you do not quite understand or feel that they are out of balance.

Crow is the sacred keeper of the law. Crow medicine signifies a firsthand knowledge of a higher order of right and wrong than that indicated by the laws created in human culture. With Crow medicine, you speak in a powerful voice when addressing issues that for you seem out of harmony, out of balance, out of whack, or unjust.

When you learn to allow your personal integrity to be your guide, your sense of feeling alone will vanish. Your personal will can then emerge so that you will stand in your truth. The prime path of true Crow people says to be mindful of your opinions and actions. Be willing to walk your talk, speak your truth, know your life’s mission, and balance past, present, and future in the now. Shape shift that old reality and become your future self. Allow the bending of physical laws to aid in creating the shape shifted world of peace.

From http://www.birdclan.org/crow.html

Thank you Shastri, and thank you Crow. ;-)

Crow Feet and Elephant Eyes

...

When a Native American internet friend introduced me to the idea of totem animals several years back it was more like reaching home via an unexpected new route than venturing into alien territory. I've always felt a strong connection to animals. As a kid I wanted to grow up and be a vet. The only ghost I can actually remember seeing was an animal. I trust animals. The whole idea that spirit animals might walk with us as teachers and guides seemed perfectly feasible to me. If I can have a guardian angel, according to my school Bible study classes, why not a guardian spirit-animal?

Since that internet friend sent me my first link to animal totems I must have wandered on through a dozen more websites related to the topic. I can't say everything fits my belief system, but it has a natural wisdom that appeals to that die-hard nine year old Pantheist within me. Some places talk about Life totems, journey totems, Power animals and dozens of other variations. Personally I don't think it matters much. Labels and symbols are man-made inventions. If we can use old ones created by our ancestors then why can't we create our own? It is a new Millennium, after all!

I have no idea if Crow officially is my "life totem" or "journey totem". All I know is that when I asked for a sign as to where next to put my feet... Jesus gave me a crow. It made perfect sense at the time. It still does. I can see myself in a crow. Smart, but a bit clumsy, whacky, but sometimes wise. Crow is the bird which some cultures say 'walks between worlds.' Crow is the bird in our back garden who slipped off the fence and got his head caught between the picket fence posts. Yep, I'm a crow! ;-)

As for elephant.. long before crow entered my life there was elephant, or elephants. When I was little I had several toy elephants. Up until recently I hadn't realised how many. A knitted one, a velvet one, a brooch one and loads of plastic ones. I drew elephants, made a collage of them out of felt, and in art college I painted my very first oil painting of the ultimate elephant-symbol - Ganesh.

Our class had gone on a religion themed field trip through churches, synagogues and the brand new temple the local Indian community had just finished building. From the outside it was a square glass-walled building supporting a fresh new pine wood dome. Inside it was a glowing frosted glass meringue filled with marigolds. There, surrounded by other gods I never noticed, "he" sat watching me... Ganesh. Carved in India from the finest marble, now he sat in Africa dressed in silk and flowers. He stared down at me with dark and beautiful eyes; It was love at first sight. This amazing god with the head of an elephant. I couldn't wait to capture him in a painting. I wanted to show how I saw in him the way everything connected. Nature, animals, God and people.

The emotions were splendid... the painting wasn't. :-( Ganesh ended up a very frightening neon pink. The only thing I got right were the eyes. Those lovely deep wise god-in-elephant eyes.

Over the next twenty years I can't remember thinking much about elephants. Now and then I'd stop to admire a statue or painting of Ganesh at the shops in the Indian section of town, but that was all. Then one day (five years and one week ago) I stepped onto an airplane on the most important journey of my entire life. I was very excited and also very nervous. Not because I was taking the first long-distance flight of my life, but because I was also taking the biggest leap of faith of my entire life. I was on my way to visit the man I was to marry. A man I had never met before.

As I went to sit down I saw that there was a magazine on my seat, it had been left behind by another traveller. I picked it up and it fell open at an article on photography and Art. Below each photo there was a famous quote and on the page the magazine had opened at was a full page photo of a statue of Ganesh. Below the photo was this quote...

"A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step."

..and I knew I would be fine.

After that I started reading more seriously about Ganesh. I still only know a tiny fragment of all there is to know about this wonderfully embracing Indian god. I wouldn't even dare to presume to write about him. All I can do is write how that wise elephant-eyed god brought me one step closer to my love.

A few years later (married and moved to the other side of the world) I dreamt that God came down to earth as a real elephant, unlike Ganesh with his elephant head. In my dream I was told that to look at this elephant-god would bring about instant death. Everyone fell to the floor, or closed their eyes, when he entered the room, but I tripped and fell. Even in dreams I have the grace of a crow! He put out his trunk to catch me and I looked up... into God-as-an-elephant eyes. I did not die, instead he stared into me and I felt such peace.

I met an elephant in another dream a few months after that. This time I asked, "are you an Indian elephant or an African elephant?"

The elephant looked at me with those deep brown sad clown eyes and said, "All elephants are family. We are One."

For the believer God IS and for the atheist God Isn't.

For some God is an old man with a beard or an earth mother with a swollen belly.

...for me God lies in elephant eyes.

Dance

...

Last year I watched a TV documentary series called "Extraordinary People". The episode I enjoyed the most followed the life of a blind brain-damaged young man who is a musical savant. He has the intelligence level of a four year old and yet he plays jazz like a genius. At one stage he was given the chance to listen to an entire orchestra. He then "translated" the entire performance into a piano solo. It was awesome!

He flew from the UK to Las Vegas (with his toy beanbag elephant for company), to do a concert to raise money for disabled kids. There he met a boy with autism, who is also blind and plays classical music. They then both met two other gifted musical kids: a blind girl on a violin and another autistic boy who plays the keyboard. Together they had a jam session that rocked the roof off.

They were brilliant.

The one psychiatrist studying them said that they are now thinking that music is the "Universal code" that drives us at a deeper level than language or any other sense-related ability.

Three years ago I popped on some soothing music to try to meditate. I've always liked the idea of meditating, but it just doesn't work for me. My mind does not understand the concept of emptiness. It is a cage full of budgies all wanting to scream their favourite word the loudest. But this one time I actually got it right, one of those rare perfect moments when things just click together. Maybe it was because I didn't try so hard? Maybe it was because I was desperate for an answer that my conscious mind couldn't provide.

I was desperate for an answer to a crossroad I'd reached in my life regarding my religious/spiritual beliefs.

I was born into a family that, counting both my mother and father's sides, span almost every variation of Christianity out there. As a result my parents had a more laid-back attitude to church attendance than many. Being a church-goer was never viewed as the only road to Heaven. I grew up with the unspoken message that all religions lead to God and therefore were of equal value.

It was only when I went out into the world that I began to realise that not everyone was as open-minded. I was warned I was "in danger of being a Pantheist" by a teacher, when I was in Junior school. I had to go look it up in a dictionary at the time. I had to admit, what I read did sound a lot like me. It was the first time I remember feeling both relief and a vague guilt/unease at who I was. So I was a Pantheist.. why was that a dangerous thing?

In high school and college, more devoted Christian friends tried to convert me to their "way". Although they meant well they left me feeling less acceptable and worthy. Sometimes depressing. Sometimes annoying. Why do some people think they know what is best for you better than you do? It's like they see you happily being a square peg in a perfectly geometric world of your own and simply cannot stop themselves from trying to squash you repeatedly into a round hole. Or, worse still, they whip out all these abrasive words in a desperate attempt to file the corners off your square soul. Words that imply you are "wrong", or "bad", for simply being true to yourself. Ultimately there are only two people who know you: yourself and God. Other people have a right to their opinions, but that is all they can ever be - opinions.

That was why I found myself trying to meditate; to try to find the "me" I had lost along the long journey through so many other people's opinions. As a child and in my teens I'd known who I was and been happy. In my twenties I'd faced confrontation on who I was and fought back, the way you do when you are young and rather full of self-righteousness. In my thirties, I'd expanded my friendships to include a wonderful range of equally wonderful people from a variety of different belief systems: Neo-Pagan, Wiccan, Buddhist and Native American Shamanism.

My thirties were a time of tremendous personal expansion, but it was also a time where I started to wobble like a spinning top that has hit the edge too many times. It was clear I had wobbled so far off the path that I didn't know how to find my way back. A friend suggested meditation to clear my mind and see the way home. I tried... nothing. Or to be exact, too much! I'd sit there and my mind would gabble and chatter about everyday life until I either fell asleep or got bored and gave up.

Then one day, I was pottering around the internet and read a woman asking similar questions. She was a Catholic considering becoming a Neo-Pagan. She was standing at the edge of everything she had been taught to believe was good and evil. She had left a message asking for help, and someone had replied, "Pray for guidance - then listen."

Seemed fairly sensible advice. I decided to try it myself. For once and for all, I needed to know if being ME was okay with whoever/whatever was "Up There." I said a small prayer to that extent and sat down to wait and listen... and for the first time EVER all those manic budgies in my brain finally shut up.

Silence

Real silence

Cellular level peace and quiet

Was this meditating? I closed my eyes and let the silence take over... I found myself standing at the edge of a lake at sunset. Someone was walking across the water towards me. A bearded guy in a long robe.

Jesus?

Hell...  Jesus?

I dismissed the thought as stupid, but as he walked up the shore to me I could see the holes in his hands and feet. I didn't know what to do. So I was honest and I said, "You're the last person I was expecting to see."

He burst out laughing and it was such a joy-filled infectious laughter that we both fell about laughing for a while. Then he took my hands and we walked out onto the water together and we danced. With stars above and stars reflected in the dark water below, we danced. And as we dance he "exploded" into the stars and became the Universe itself...

...and then I found myself back on the shore.

I'm not sure how long I stood there before he appeared, walking back across the water towards me once again. Only this time he was carrying something. A crow. He said, "This is for you," and the crow hopped from his arm to my shoulder.

I opened my eyes and I was back in the same room in my same house.

I have a Native American friend who had sent me an internet link to totem animals a year before. I went and looked up crow. I saved some of the bits I found there. Can't give credit to the author as I lost the links a few years back so apologies for that.

"Human law is not the same as Sacred Law. More so than any other medicine, Crow sees that the physical world and even the spiritual world, as humanity interprets them, are an illusion. There are billions of worlds. There are an infinitude of creatures. Great Spirit is within all."

"Crow is the totem of the Great Spirit and must be respected as such."

The bringer of the Holy Spirit had brought me the symbol of another culture's Great Spirit.

Now, I keep thinking about those supposedly "disabled" kids and how they've tapped into creativity and Creation at a level we can only daydream about. Music and Creation. Music and life itself. Dancing on water and amongst the stars. Ancient peoples using dancing and singing to connect to the Source...

Is faith merely (re)learning how to dance on water?

Was the world created in seven days or seven notes?

I think I really like that idea! Holy and Great, Human and Sacred exploding together in a universe of infinite possibilities. Different music, different steps, but always the same Dance.

I have found my way back to the Dance.
I hope you have found yours.

...