My new symbol

For the past couple of years the symbol that has represented my life/spiritual journey has been the sloth. It is the animal that represents my personality type on the enneagram. However, a few months ago I began thinking that it no longer fit. I thought my new symbol was me coming up out of the water as in baptism. But that is not the case instead I'm fairly certain my new symbol is the bird. Not the raised middle finger but the actual fowl.
I began noticing birds the week before my brother died. My friend Melanie had given me the book, Gift of the Red Bird by Paula D'Arcy. It is a fantastic memoir and spiritual narrative. In the book she writes about a vision quest of sorts that she took spending three days or so in the wilderness by herself. A red bird visited her often during her sojourn in the wilderness and it became her friend in her solitude. One night a terrible storm came up and Paula had to go stay in a nearby cabin. She was worried that the red bird might have been killed in the storm or at least be unable to find her since she had left her camp site. So in the morning after the storm had passed, she opened the door of the cabin and there on the front step was the red bird. My interpretation, not necessarily hers, is that the red bird came to symbolize God's presence with her. I was read this book while I was at my friend Tracy and Dave's house in Tennessee. And as I was finishing this book I looked out the window and there was a red bird. I noticed them all that week.
Then I left for Florida to be with my family. The first night my mother and I were sitting on my brother's back porch. (This was before she broke her shoulder. Have I written down that story yet? I don't know, I'll have to look back.) And my mother said "There is a red bird." I looked but I couldn't see the bird, but she could. Much of my experience with God surrounding my brother's death is that it is enough for me that other people can see and feel God's presence even when I cannot. So it was enough for me to know that my mother could see the red bird but I couldn't.
Then came Staffa. Staffa is a very small uninhabited island north of Iona. The way it has been formed it looks like it is made of columns. It is really beautiful. But Staffa is also where the puffins come once a year to mate or lay eggs or for a pit stop, I don't really know. I just know they come once a year and we were there during that time. Most of the time they stay in the water to protect themselves from the seagulls which are there natural predators. But when humans are on the island they are able to come up onto the cliffs because the humans keep the seagulls away. It took about five minutes and they were right up next to us--sometimes as close as 2 or 3 feet away. It was amazing. (I got some really great photos that I'll share once I upload the pictures to my computer.)
And since I have been constantly noticing birds. I even saw two birds on a window sill in New York City doing it. So the bird is what I am befriending or maybe what is befriending me right now. They are my teachers. And I think there is something about flying that is significant for me right now--the freedom of flight and the open air--the vast sky. I don't know what lessons they will share, but I am going to live with them and notice them. And listen to their songs for the ways that they influence my song.

Peace out