The Quiet Crows
I’m used to crows showing up in my life, bringing me messages, leaving me the occasional feather gift. I have a connection with them.
They are smart and, yes, sometimes pesky. They can recognize a human face and remember how they were treated by that human.
The ones who live near me have come to know me. I’m used to their crow talk, which is impressive. I’m used to their imitations, pretending to be different types of birds.
It’s their chatter I’ve gotten most used to, though sometimes one or two will sit quietly on a broken tree trunk out front of the house for me to observe.
So, I was a little surprised while living away from home, when taking a walk on what I called the road to nowhere—a gravel throughway that didn’t connect with a destination road—I was being observed, unaware, by four quiet crows perched on the branches of a tree alongside my stony path.
The morning was quiet. The area undisturbed. The only sound was my sneakers crunching over the gravel. I didn’t notice the silent crows until I turned and started back the way I’d come.
I wondered what message I was being given. It couldn’t be one about my needing to carve out more time for quiet contemplation. My life was filled to the brim with quiet time. I spent many hours by myself. I walked in nature alone, in contemplation.
After a few days of meditating on my morning walk along the road to nowhere and my meeting up with the quiet crows, I realized I’d been feeling anxious about the unfamiliar territory I’d stepped into with several of my creative projects. I didn’t know how or if they’d work out. I wasn’t sure what they might lead to, if anything, or where they might take me, if anywhere.
As I treaded over the less than smooth path that day, I carried those thoughts with me.
How was it that when I’d started my latest round of creative endeavors, I’d taken the rocky path of not knowing my destination?
Haven’t we all been warned about starting a project without knowing where it’s headed? Even new adventures require some sort of goal, right?
Maybe not.
I realized the crows had joined me on that day on that road to remind me of what I already knew, which is that creating from the heart and soul takes courage. What it doesn’t require is certainty and knowing the end result.
The crows had showed up not to chat with me but rather to show their support and encouragement, for they knew I’d already bravely started down the road to nowhere. And, of course, their silent observation told me I had no worries. The road was leading somewhere. All I had to do was trust and let the mystery unfold.
I offer this encouragement to you when you find yourself in that place of creating from the heart and soul:
*Feel okay with taking shaky steps
*Give yourself credit for having the courage to get started
*Move forward on your path even when you don’t know the longitude and latitude of your end point
*If the road you’re on has twists and turns in it, don’t let fear stop you from moving in a new direction
*Watch for signs that show up to encourage and guide you
