Animals and Nature, Authenticity, Awakening, compassion and trust, courage, Mystery and Magic

On how a crow gave me the courage to be myself

Recently, with all that has been happening in the world, I find myself scrolling through my news feed and on social media much more than usual, certainly much more than I like to be.  I try to limit my exposure because I don’t always come away from my time on social media feeling great.

These days, I come away from it feeling like I’m not doing enough to help this broken world, and everything seems urgent, the more I read the less I seem to know, and I start to feel smaller and smaller, so that by the time I disengage I am almost completely paralyzed and overwhelmed.

Perhaps you know what I speak of – I want to be informed, I want to be engaged, I want to take guided action and yet for the sake of my own sanity I have to sometimes just shut it all off.

My own particular Achilles heel in this area is that in my effort to stay in the loop, I inevitably start comparing myself and my posts and my efforts to others.

And I know better.

I know that comparison will either make me feel superior or make me feel like less, or not as good as. I start to believe that I’m not trying hard enough, not doing it “right,” not doing all the things.

When this happens, I know I need to re-focus my gaze inward, not outward. I need to look to my own work and my own calling and my own journey. I need to give some healing to my own heart.

So, as I offered myself the rest of the day off from FB and IG and turned off my phone, I prepared to step out into my backyard with a cup of a tea and a good book. I could still feel my sense of “less than” creeping up my back like a shiver, that odious voice in my head telling me “you’re a failure, you will never succeed at this, everyone is doing it better than you are” and just before I pushed my screen door open, there he was.

A little crow baby on the grass just a few feet from my back door.

Because I was in the house and behind the screen he couldn’t see me. I quietly sank to the floor and watched in wonder as he leapt around and crow-walked through the garden, over the grass, under the ferns and around the hostas without any concern.

And I got to watch him, drink him in with my eyes and my heart. I could see a few tiny, light downy feathers near his tail, which looked so sweet and quirky.

I confess that I wanted to squish him and love him and kiss him.

I wanted him to stay forever.

I grabbed bird seed, dates and corn chips. I followed him down the garden path as he hopped slowly towards the front gate, keeping his eye on me and watching as I fought off the resident chipmunks in my effort to bribe him with treats.

I don’t believe in coincidences anymore, and certainly not when it comes to nature. The last time I was crushed by comparison and doubting myself and my work, I had a life-affirming visit from a hawk.

So I knew immediately that there was an important message for me here, and that I needed to pay attention to this crow.

This perfect and comical little crow stayed in my backyard all afternoon and evening as I sat outside. Once I thought he was gone for good but then suddenly he flew past me where I was sitting, so close I could feel the air move on the back of my neck as he swooped in and almost crash landed on a rock a few feet to my left.

He looked back over his shoulder at me.

I opened my heart to him, I beamed love from my heart and eyes into him, I was so grateful that he had come to be with me as I worked to soothe my battered mind and heart.

For certainly the raven and the crow are birds that have walked with me for as long as I can remember.

They are birds of mystery and harbingers of internal change.

This crow child was asking me to remember who I am, who I really am. To honor my own magic, my own true self and my own divine potential.

He was asking me to protect my fledgling confidence, to honour all my efforts and small steps towards new things that felt uncomfortable. To embrace it, to own it, to walk it like one who knows that growing into her potential is inevitable, because she’s already walking it. And, that I need no one’s permission to do this.

Crow made time stand still for me. He said – ignore all the noise that is the world right now and just be yourself. Walk with me, walk like a crow – unapologetic, confident and curious.

And please laugh.

With him beside me on the rock I wrote, I wrote poetry for my family, I wrote the crow, I laughed and cried. I wept for the darkness and the light, for all the pain and suffering and beauty moving in this world, for all the ways that I am the fragile, merciless author of my own suffering.

And I realized then that in my backyard on a Saturday afternoon with a baby crow, I was communing with the divine. In a dark moment had come a beautiful, dark bird to show me the light. To show me the light within me, that is also within all of us.

I so badly want to serve the world in some meaningful way. I ask how I may serve, and it seems that I am repeatedly reminded to be myself, to get out of my own way, to give up my self-doubt and surrender to the immense, unknowable design of things.

And that I need no one’s permission in order to do this. I can assure you, there isn’t a crow in the world that has ever asked for permission from anyone, including the sweet, young crow in my yard.

May we all find a way to serve the world by being true to who we are. May we know we are enough. May we know that our courage is needed now more than ever, the courage to offer what we have, however humble. May we have the courage to do hard things, to have hard conversations, to make changes. In the dark storm, may we realize we are the light – and that in order to bring it the question has to be not “who’s going to let me?” but “who’s going to stop me?”

Divine beloved…
May I know my own value, beauty and worthiness without question
Change me into one who can fully love, forgive and accept myself
So I may carry Your light without restriction
Let everything that needs to go, go
Let everything that needs to come, come
I am utterly Your own
You are me, I am You, we are One
All is well.

Excerpted from “The Full Abundance Change Me Prayer” by Tosha Silver

 

 

Authenticity, Awakening, gratitude, Women's Work

On how I found a way forward by honoring my ancestors

I am the eldest daughter, of the eldest daughter, of the eldest daughter of another eldest daughter.

And so it may not surprise you to learn that I am the keeper of both my maternal and paternal families’ past, keeper of the keepsakes, the objects that mean “family,” “tradition” and “memory” and even “love” have mostly all passed to me.

I have not always wanted or appreciated these items or the task of “keeping” them.

The responsibility of continuity, the weight of time, I didn’t want it.  So I pretended for many years that it didn’t matter, my long, winding Scottish/Welsh/Irish ancestry was not important, the family I was born into was irrelevant. I wanted to be modern, to look forward, to shed the outmoded traditions of the past.

In my desire to walk my path unencumbered by the weight of so many people, old ideas, old outmoded expectations, judgments, and memories – I forgot that there was love and strength flowing to me.

I forgot to be humble and honor the great trust that was being handed to me, I forgot what it meant to be the eldest daughter of the eldest daughter.

Over the years I packed up these items and the stories that went with them – stories of war and love, hardship and loss, and joy. I stored them safely away, agreed to hand them down to the next generation – perhaps unused, unappreciated, by me. Never brought into the light, the flame of memory, of love and continuity.

But I see things differently now.

The strength in the bone and love in the blood of this lineage, my lineage, it matters.

It deserves so much more than my offhand acknowledgment, my casual care.

And so does yours, your lineage matters…because you are here now, singing its future into being, it matters.

“When you proceed on your course, never forget you are not alone. You have friends and family, but you also have your ancestors. Your ancestors sing in your blood. Call to them. Their strength through the ages will come into you.” Patti Smith

I have called upon the deep ancestries of others, I have cherished and practiced the traditions of other tribes and I have found there profound healing and grounding and I have felt rise up in me a loving connection to this land I call home, the forests and fields and hills of the sweet piece of earth I live on now.

But the question was asked: what about your own ancestors?

Are they not the medicine of your bones, is your own being not also rooted in the long line of people from which you spring?

All the ones who came before you in order for you to exist now, as Shona.

Do not dwell only in the borrowed wisdom of another family, dwell also in the sacred ground of your own blood and bone.

And from that moment on, I was able – for the first time – to truly see and cherish my own ancestors. I was willing to root down in to the truth and the customs and the love that was theirs.

I can hear them singing in my veins now…they have suddenly come alive in me. The flame of love and gratitude and reverence has been lit.

What is the story you hold in your being that longs to be told?

Can you let yourself be the bridge, the arc, that binds the past to the present and the light of an unknown future?

Can you, through your own healing, through your own understanding of who you truly are, light the way for all those who came before you and for all those still to come?

Can you call on them in times of need, find yourself and your way forward by resting into the arms of the ancestors who carried you here?

I know now, that to find my way forward, I will need to sing the song of the earth – who is mother to us all, our most ancient ancestor, the song in my very body that is my ancestral past, and the song in my heart that is mine alone to sing, and is the future of my lineage.

We all hold that sacred, fragile and potent potential within us.

I am the eldest daughter, of the eldest daughter, of the eldest daughter of another eldest daughter… it is a burden I take up willingly now and with joy. It has become a privilege.

Blood of my blood and bone of my bone, deep river, bounding deer, black earth and ancient rock…bring us all together in all our divine diversity to live again in love…bring us back to the love that carries us forward forever.

xo Shona

 

 

Authenticity, Awakening, courage, Joy, Mystery and Magic

This is how a hug changed everything

I recently attended an Indigenous Peoples Drum Workshop at my local library.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I took my 9-year-old daughter, Madeleine, and we went with open minds and open hearts.  The workshop was informative, powerful and moving.  But that’s not what inspired me to write this.

After the circle, I waited to speak to the beautiful Indigenous woman from the Anishinaabe nation who had lead the circle with such power and grace.  I wanted to thank her for sharing her story, for sharing the traditions and customs of her people, and for the loving and deeply respectful way she held space for everyone in the circle.

And not surprisingly, as I spoke my words of gratitude, there were tears in my eyes.  And so, in mid-sentence, she simply opened her arms to me and gave me a hug.

And this was a hug that changed everything.

For this hug had no agenda.  

It was possibly and unexpectedly the most peaceful and profound moment I have ever experienced. I was lovingly and peacefully held in the arms of unconditional acceptance where there was space for me, just as I was.

To just be.

To be sad for all the reasons I couldn’t explain, to feel this outpouring of longing that seemed to always find it’s first expression in tears, to just be a person, a soul – held in complete and divine peace and understanding by another soul, in a library in Caledon.

This hug lasted for moments and it lasted a lifetime — until I felt a slow, healing calm taking over my body.

And as my tears subsided and we stood apart, and said goodbye, I noticed my wise daughter watching me.  She had been so uncharacteristically patient and still throughout the entire circle and its aftermath.

She said nothing, just smiled at me and took my hand.

I can tell you that in my work as a teacher and a healer and in my travels in this lifetime, I have experienced many profound moments of connection, of healing, of life-changing insights. And I have given and been the recipient of many loving hugs – as I hope you have also been.

But I have never had a hug like this before.  I have never felt so completely accepted and at peace. Or felt my fears, doubts, anger and anxiety just fall away.

It was as if – as we held each other-  we were both being held by something greater than ourselves. And we could rest there.

I realize now that I have been granted a glimpse into heaven, into something sacred or holy and larger than me or my life or my purpose or any of the things I think matter.

It’s as if I have been waiting to rest here all my life.  And the resonance of this hug hums in me still.  I am changed.

So now when I feel afraid because I can’t see the way, when I feel discouraged or impatient, or jealous or mean, I can call up the memory of that hug…and remember that even when I’m not actually being hugged, I am always seen, and loved – I am held.

We all are.

And that is the gift of the hug that changed everything.

“Held by another, held within by our own hearts, or held by a star – despite the pain and confusion and hopelessness and doubt – somehow we are already held. It’s not something we must earn or deserve or frantically search for. Held by the morning light as it comes into a room, by the song of the birds, by the imaginal world. Somehow. Already held.”
–  Matt Licata

 

Authenticity, Awakening, courage, freedom, Joy, Mystery and Magic

This is how I know I’m on the right path

I have recently had an emotional revelation about a certain area of my life, about a longing I have carried with me since childhood, and part of that revelation has been recognizing how the act of simply moving towards that longing has been transformative.

As a child growing up in Calgary, Alberta, I was fascinated by Indigenous peoples. I would even insist to my parents, frequently, that our family had Indigenous ancestry.  My mother assured me repeatedly, that to her knowledge, we definitely did not.  Despite this information, which at the time I found very perplexing, my fascination and longing for connection with Indigenous people and their culture, never really left me.

It may not surprise you to learn, however, that despite this palpable desire, as I got older instead of pursuing it, I learned to ignore it.

And I know I’m not the only one who has disdained all the gentle urgings of my childhood heart, and allowed it to be swallowed up by the beliefs and values of my family, my community, and my culture. I can’t tell you all the reasons I have hesitated to make any true connection with Indigenous teachings, they are many and are related to self-doubt, fear, and active discouragement from those around me which I allowed to stop me, to name but a few.

I can see that at this moment those reasons don’t matter.

Because I have crossed over a self-made wall, to embrace something that seems to have been quietly waiting for me…forever.

So finally, after all these years, this past weekend I reached out to local Indigenous medicine woman who teaches the healing medicine of her people.

As I typed out a request to connect with her, tears started streaming down my face. They were the hot, messy tears that pour out like a waterfall, accompanied by snot and sobs.

I knew then that this longing in me had gone unanswered for far too long.

At last I was taking a first step out onto the path, trusting that “As you start to walk on the way, the way appears” (Rumi).   I do not know if or how I will work with and learn from this Shaman, and as I have just taken a first step I cannot see where the road leads, but regardless I have started the journey and the joy of it is singing through my veins.

And this is how I know that I am on the right path.  In taking action, in giving in to my heart and moving towards something every step felt like light, like healing, like love, like remembering, like coming home and like freedom at the same time.

If you feel moved, if something in you leaps to meet or to create an opportunity — then hold out your hands to it.  If a move towards a longing in your heart brings you to tears, trust this. There is your answer.

For when you move towards it and you are engulfed by an emotion so strong it seems to carry you like a tidal wave to your destination, there is no turning back.

You have found the way.  And you know it with calm certainty.

And as I walk towards what has always been waiting for me, I am filled with joy. I can literally feel a sense of peaceful aliveness humming around me, a vibration like an excited whisper from the trees, the sky the birds, the earth, my soul…she’s coming…she’s coming home to us.

Xo Shona

Note: I can’t write this without acknowledging that part of my more recent struggle to start to explore Indigenous healing traditions lies within the tangled history and prevalence of white privilege and cultural appropriation. Although I feel so connected and drawn to Indigenous culture, I wasn’t sure that I was “allowed” or would even be welcomed as a student of Shamanic practices.  My childhood instincts were lying beneath heavy layers of doubt, hesitation and even shame, which is part of the socio-political energies of these times.  And yet…this longing just won’t go away. It must be answered. And so I begin this journey with deep respect and love in my heart for both the sacred medicine and the Indigenous healers who are willing to share their wisdom with me.

 

Authenticity, Awakening, courage, Joy, Mindfulness and Meditation, Mystery and Magic, Women's Work

Standing up to who you are not

I recently made a trip to Germany, a place I had long yearned to visit.  Shortly after I returned, a client asked me if I’d had a significant spiritual experience there, since I’d had such a strong calling to visit that country.

And so I thought about what my answer to her question might be, and I realized that while there were moments in Germany that were truly amazing and awe-inspiring and fun, what was most profound and provided me with the greatest context for growth were the experiences I had relating to the friend I was travelling with.

Over the years I have noticed that my ability to be true to myself is forged through the pressure from other people to be the opposite of who I really am.

In ways both subtle and blatant, friends and family have tried to mold my behaviour and choices, and even outlined what work or career path I am best suited for, usually out of a sense of love or knowing what will be “best for me.”

They have often encouraged me to abandon my innate gifts and adopt highly rational, sensible, and systematic ways of doing things.  While I certainly can be rational and analytical and systematic, it brings me little joy.

The contemplation and eventual pursuit of some of their options always eventually created a feeling of deep sadness and restlessness in my heart.

I have several close friends who are accountants, including the friend I traveled with through Germany.  To be clear, I have nothing but respect for the work that accountants do, theirs is a skill set I lack but I absolutely appreciate how their talents help the world to run. So it will come as no surprise when I tell you that our styles of travelling were different.

Weeks before we left, she made a spreadsheet with dates, times, hotels, bus and train options, and all the costs.  The arrival of this spreadsheet in my inbox nearly paralyzed me.   Over-planning (and I can sometimes be guilty of thinking that ANY planning is over-planning) is something that can bleed the joy and spontaneity out of life, and certainly out of a trip.

We were (for the most part) able to talk and laugh our way through her spreadsheet, ensuring that she had enough planning done for her to feel confident, and that there was enough unplanned time for me to feel that we could live in the moment while visiting Germany.

This was one of the first hurdles conquered, as I am often guilty of staying silent and slowly allowing myself to get frustrated in situations like this.  We were able to see right away how we were different, and as it turns out, we traveled really well together, and we were eventually able to appreciate what the other brought to the table.

And so part of my insight was in seeing first hand and appreciating the times when planning really did make our trip better.  My friend was an expert at using her phone to find excellent restaurants (every time!) and to navigate the rail system.  We hit all the places we wanted to see, and I know we may have got no further than the airport in Frankfurt if it hadn’t been for her.

At the same time, when things didn’t go to plan, I was able to problem solve on the fly, without my phone, using a sense of direction to help us find our hotel, connecting with people who “I just had a feeling” wanted to help us when our train was cancelled.

But at times I struggled yet again with where I fit into a world that values and applauds the plan, the rational, the system, the map, the strategy, the schedule, the app, the efficiency.

Often in my life I have felt that what I bring to the table is lost, or not valued:  the improvisation, the spontaneity, the sitting quietly in trust knowing that the answer will reveal itself.  The joy of the big, wide, open unplanned path and feeling your way along it.  Knowing the journey through Germany and through life is going to take on a life of it’s own, if we let it.

That there has to be room for uncertainty in order for there to be room for joy. 

I have to appreciate who I am first, before anyone else can.

And then, right there in Germany, I realized, re-learned, remembered again, in the face of a force asking me to be something I’m not — that these are qualities that I have to appreciate and value in myself first.

And that the appreciation has to go both ways.  I can and do adopt some of the strategies that planners use in order to reach my goals and achieve my dreams, but I am learning to adopt these qualities as needed to support me in the pursuit of the work I love.  Like the subtle dance between my travelling companion and I to achieve a wonderful journey together, I know that the balance and appreciation for both the heart and the mind, for the intuitive insight and the spreadsheet, is key.

And my friend, who knows herself well, told me this: she could plan it all out and still hesitate, still not jump into action, out of fear of missing a detail or that something could go wrong.  I was the one who helped her jump, she said, who helped her trust in the moment and know that things would work out if we just took the first step.

And that little insight lit me up.

How I learn to define and remain true to myself has been through relationships with others who urge me to be the opposite.

This has certainly been an ongoing pattern in my life. And while I could feel frustrated and angry with the people I thought were trying to thwart my true expression, they were actually gifts.

They helped me to hone and define exactly what is important and exactly who I am by identifying who I am not, and for them I am eternally grateful.

XO Shona