When the world is wound in a drama that does want to quit, I am more open to some of the harder lessons of creation. Hawk, Raven and Owl compose my feathered trinity. These three fly through the veil, giving me glimpses of heaven.
If we try to make tidy religion our solid ground, we soon find ourselves less stable, but with more territory to defend. Love ultimately crosses through all exclusions and belief systems. Love is the only thing that lasts.
Hawk drops a rabbit in front of a moving vehicle and us down into the flow. There, Life’s river washes away all that no longer serves us. Sometimes the current is harsh and cold. We struggle to make sense of a loving God that would allow such pain. Hawk gives us the bigger picture.
We turn our heads from ravens plucking at a carcass. Before long, Raven flies into the light to sit with us as we look in the mirror to discover a hint of the abusive traits in what we call other. Raven sounds her kraa that points us to the shell of what was. She knows that on the far side of the death of our illusions is a glimmering treasure.
Talons pierce through a beloved pet’s flesh, too close to the heart. Owl not only sees in the dark, but also hears what is not spoken. Even in flight, her wings are silent. We beg Spirit Owl to show herself and speak. She does not come, because she is already deep inside. If we want to see and hear, we must go into the dark where energy, rather thought or emotion, is the primary communicator.
Failing to meet Owl in the dark within us (and in the bigger US) precludes our shadows bursting out for their debut. Now, an abrasive spotlight shines on what we did not want to see. If we are true to Love’s journey we realize that we are the outliers, accepting the ongoing cycle of life, death and resurrection.
At a point, we finally cease our struggle to belong, to draw a crowd or even to be right and like Jesus, live as the veil, allowing Hawk, Raven and Owl to unravel us, trusting that we are offering life to those around us, by what we say and how we live.