Embracing the Pelican

A few nights ago I had the following dream:

I'm standing at the edge of a marsh or wetland. I see a bald eagle flying toward me. It lands in the water, wings out. It comes right toward me. Then it changes into a golden eagle with a strange, long, duck-like bill. It has red-brown eyes that hold sadness. It walks right up to me. I back away slightly and so does the bird. We hesitate. But I realize it wants me to pet it. I begin petting its head and it turns into a pelican. Soon it is right up against my body and it is the same size as me. It rests its head on my shoulder. I feel so much love for the pelican and I want to protect it. As I pet it, its feathers dry off and become incredibly soft. As I pet the pelican, I talk to it, trying to soothe it.

My heart is absolutely breaking at the situation in the Gulf. So many animals are dying: pelicans, sea turtles, dolphins, marlin, shrimp...the list is enormous. The tragic results of our greed and over-consumption are nearly more than I can bear. I wish I were able to save every single bird languishing in the oily Gulf waters.

The collapse of the Deepwater Horizon platform came just 10 days before a major collapse in my own life. At the end of April, my husband and I decided to divorce. I felt everything crash in around me. We were already losing our physical home to foreclosure, and now we are losing our metaphorical home as well. I have to rebuild everything from scratch.

Although my husband and I will remain good friends and the separation has been as amiable as possible, the grief runs deeper than I could ever imagine. As a result of my personal upheaval, I have had a limited capacity to work with the grief I feel over the death in the Gulf of Mexico.

But this dream provided a doorway into that grief. As my mentor Karen Jaenke said when we worked this dream, if I can inhabit my personal grief then I can better hold the collective grief over the oil spill. I am creating a bridge to the collective grief in the dream when I hold the pelican despite my own suffering and attempt to relieve its suffering. We meet halfway, each coming from our own tragedy, in order to heal each other. As I soothed the pelican, I also soothed myself and it soothed me.

I feel stronger now. It's been more than a month since Lance and I made the decision to split. With each day that passes I feel more capable of holding the Gulf tragedy in tandem with my own crises. The next step is to transform this grief into healing, a step I imagine will take many, many months.

Both images courtesy of the International Bird Rescue Research Center

Honoring the Dream

A wonderful way to deepen your connection to your dreams is to bring their energy into the physical world. To do this you could share a dream with a trusted friend, or paint, sing, draw, or act out a dream. Many times these activities foster insight into dreams and they always help create a space for dreams in your life. Honoring dreams in these ways shows you respect your dreams and are willing to listen to their messages.

One caveat: some cultures believe that speaking a dream dissipates its energy. Judge for yourself whether or not to share a dream based on how you feel about it. Of course, I encourage you to paint, draw, sing, or dance the dream in private if it is not one you wish to share publicly.

I have worked with my dreams in this way several times and I always get juicy results. My most memorable exercise involved Owl, my spirit guide. Owl first arrived in my life last July. She came in a dream disguised as a hawk with a cat's head. To honor this dream, I shared it with a class of dreamers and then wrote a paper about it (this is the paper I will present at the IASD conference; you can read it at the link above).

I worked with Owl's energy for a number of weeks after I had the dream, which led to synchronicities and further dreams featuring Owl. During this time, I read about owl behavior, myths involving owls, and goddesses connected with the owl. I also asked Owl for further dreams and she brought them to me. Through this work, I unearthed my creativity and found new strength within myself.

After the summer class ended, my intense interaction with Owl calmed down. But once I started another dream class, she came back strongly. I encountered her as a snowy owl in a shamanic journey and a dream. This time, to honor her, I created two art pieces. One was a nest made of sticks from local trees, moss, and lichen. The other was a cape sewn and beaded to look like a snowy owl's feathers. The cape allowed me to overcome fears about sewing (I broke out my sewing machine and taught myself how to thread it) and it taught me patience, for beading the cape was a painstaking and slow process.

When I donned the cape at the end of the class and held the nest in my arms, I felt transformed. I was imbued with the energy of Owl: her grace, wisdom, stealth, and cunning. This is what it means to bring the dream into waking life.

My story does not end here, however. In January Owl visited me again in a dream, this time after I had asked my ancestors for a dream. She came in the form of a great gray owl, which I later learned lives in Minnesota and Sweden, my ancestral homelands. This dream had an immense impact on me, and I knew I wanted to bring its energy into waking life.

First, I researched the great gray owl. Then, synchronistically, I ended up on the website for the Lindsay Wildlife Museum, a local wildlife hospital and museum. It turns out they are caring for a beautiful great gray owl from Minnesota. One of the programs at the Lindsay is wildlife adoption, so I immediately sent in a donation to adopt the great gray owl. I now have a picture of the owl on my altar and in May I will be able to visit the bird at the museum. It felt wonderful to honor Owl in this way.

After looking back on all the amazing ways Owl appeared in my life, I decided in February to create another art piece tying it all together. Making this piece was thrilling and it now has an honored spot at the top of my altar. It ties together the "cathawk," snowy owl, and great gray owl dreams as well as my ancestral homelands and my connection to oak trees.

These interactions with Owl changed my life and I know that my commitment to bringing my dreams into waking life enhanced them. Owl is now a constant companion and I call on her energy when I need strength. This is the power of honoring the dream.

Called By the Heron

Last Saturday, I felt incredibly drawn to go for a walk at Heather Farm park at dusk. As I gathered my stuff for class, I decided to grab my camera just in case. I'm glad I did. After class I was tired, but I drove to the park anyway. Something was calling me.

As soon as I arrived, I felt exhilarated. The sky was bright blue and free of clouds. The sun was shining and warm and there was that lovely fall chill in the air. All around me were yellow, orange, and red leaves. I reveled in the splendor of my favorite season. I photographed trees, smelled the dry grasses, and listened to ducks call back and forth to one another.

Then I got to a special section of the trail where I always see interesting animals. Sometimes it's turtles or geese. That day, I saw a kingfisher, the bird above. It let out a shrill call after I said hello. It stayed for a few minutes while I tried to get a better angle for a photograph through the bushes. Then it flew off. I thought that might be my only up-close encounter with nature, but I was mistaken.

All I had to do was walk a few feet ahead, and keep a sharp eye on the reeds. I'd seen a heron nestled amongst the reeds once before, and ever since I look to see if I'll glimpse another. I did that night. And I know that it was this heron that was calling me to the park.

It is a black-crested night heron. I was in awe of its beauty and the way it sat perfectly still. I was about four feet away from the bird and it didn't fly off. It allowed me to take several pictures. And then I stood watching it for at least 15 minutes, if not longer.

I felt an immense calm come over me as I stood with the bird. It acknowledged me and then sat still, looking out over the water. It did not care about the people and dogs walking by, some of them raucous and oblivious to the amazing creature lurking just off the path. At one point, it became so relaxed it closed its eyes as if it was going to sleep. I could not believe the bird felt safe enough, even though I was standing right there, to close its eyes. It was an amazing experience.

Finally, I said goodbye to the heron and finished my walk. I believe the bird's message for me was to slow down and take time to just be present. That's exactly what it was doing...just being present to the water, the reeds, the people going by, the air, the calm of the coming night. When I stood with it, my mind was blank, as if I could do nothing but just be present to the bird, the reeds, and the water. It was a profound lesson, and one I will not soon forget.

The heron's picture adorns my desktop right now, its piercing orange eye reminding me to slow down, breathe, and just BE. I am so grateful for having met it.