High Rocks State Park Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Flicker, left profile – Photo: L. Weikel

Flicker

I found a feather the other day as I was walking past High Rocks State Park. I made the discovery shortly after the rain finally abated after falling all day. Gray clouds persisted overhead and the feather, sadly, was caked with mud. I noticed it anyway because fragments of bright yellow still managed to peek out from its sad, soggy condition. What was that? A flicker? A glimmer of light amidst all the dirt and damp?

I picked the feather up, of course, if only out of respect. It was in sad shape, but I figured it only needed a quick run under the faucet. Yanking a couple strands from my scalp, I offered them in exchange and appreciation for the bird’s loss.

It was risky, but I stowed the feather gently in the front pouch of my hooded sweatshirt. The feather was superficially a mess, but it felt like a messenger and I wanted to honor it.

Yet Another Encounter

Fast forward a handful of days to this afternoon. Again, I’m out walking, about a zig-zag mile away from where I found the feather. Also again, the sky is overcast, the atmosphere thick with mist and about 20 degrees cooler than the day before. This time my attention is snagged by a furtive rustling amongst the dry, dead oak leaves littering the berm of the road. There! A bird, with coloring that allowed it to blend in yet stand out. Quite a trick. (And luckily, I was on a solo trek, because I’m sure Pacha and Brutus would’ve pounced on it.)

Oh, what a beauty! It hopped amidst the twigs and detritus seemingly unafraid. It scratched and poked, attempted feigned indifference, then glanced at me to discern my intentions. While I was able to walk right up to it, if I had to guess, I’d say it was just young and inexperienced. It didn’t appear to be wounded or compromised in any way, which was a relief, and the main reason I approached it.

I spoke to it gently and took a couple photos. And I made sure to tell this winged creature how much I appreciated its intriguing coloring and design, especially the magnificent heart at the back of its head. Of all the birds for me to discover ‘in the feather’ one-on-one, here was the very same kind – a flicker – that had left me a feather only a few days earlier.

Flicker, its heart at the back of its head – Photo: L. Weikel

Walking It Off

As it happened, I was walking off the effects of a profound discovery I’d just made within myself. If I made a choice I knew I was being asked to contemplate, my soul would collapse within itself. My heart would break. Sounds hyperbolic, I know; but that’s how it felt at the time. In short, I was feeling an absolute gut-level certainty that I couldn’t – mustn’t – go back. I thought I could, but my body and soul said otherwise.

I’d actually walked about six miles by the time I came across the bird – a Flicker, of course, in case you haven’t guessed. By that time, I’d not only processed my visceral reaction to the choice presented to me, but also pivoted within myself to embrace an alternative that felt like a ray of warm sunshine. A flicker of hope? The choice couldn’t be more obvious; the message more clear.

Looking It Up

Naturally, as soon as I arrived home, I consulted my trusty Animal Speak*, by Ted Andrews. I was delighted to discover almost two full pages of information. Following are just a few tidbits that called out to me:

“Keynote: New Rhythm of Growth and Healing Love.

(…) Flickers are woodpeckers in the process of changing from life in the trees to life on the ground. Because of the tapping and drumming that all woodpeckers do in their search for food, they have connections to new rhythms coming into your life.

(…)

The flicker is a golden-winged woodpecker. It often has a red patch on the back of its head and a black crescent on its breast, all of which are very symbolic. When it flies up from the grass, it takes off in a strong, bounding flight, flashing the gold of its wings. When a flicker comes into your life, it will reflect new bounding leaps of spiritual growth.

The red on the back of its head reflects a stimulation of the chakra centers of the head – the throat, brow, and crown centers. These centers will be stimulated into new activity. The reflects that latent talents and intuition are going to be activated to a greater degree.

(…)

If flicker has come into your life, it indicates a time of rapid growth and trust. Flicker will awaken a new rhythm and the ability and opportunity to manifest all-healing love.”

Trust

And there it is. While I might personally feel like the feather I found a few days ago, muddy and a bit battered, the bright ray of hope represented by the yellow shaft of a flicker demands a certain amount of trust. Trust in myself. Trust in my unique path. And trust that when I ask for it, my allies conspire with Nature and All Life to bring me the guidance and insight I seek.

ND #142

Flicker, right profile – Photo: L. Weikel (Thank you, little one!)

*Affiliate link

Banging the Drum

If you’ve been reading this blog for any extended period of time, you’ve probably caught on to the fact that I love taking walks. I’ve written about how vitally important walking in nature is to my life, including the profound impact it’s had on my marriage. And now I’m banging the drum about walking even more as we all do our best to develop new coping strategies.

Gratitude

I’m feeling grateful for the weather this past week, as it was nice enough for us to walk every single day. This turned out to be exceedingly important to my mental health, as crises on the national and global stages, such as the spread of the Coronavirus, to personal issues looming large with clients and friends seemed to erupt every day.

The perspective and pleasure afforded by simply being in nature and physically moving forward reliably helped me sort out my thoughts and feelings about all sorts of matters – even things I didn’t realize were weighing on me.

Karl and I have remarked a number of times to each other already how lucky it is that this pandemic didn’t land on us in November. With the closing of all the schools and the admonition to engage in social distancing, it just seems like having to endure all of that while being cooped up in our homes would have been even far more difficult. (And believe me, I’m not thinking or saying any of this is going to be easy.)

What in the World?

So you can imagine my utter distress when I encountered this sign yesterday at High Rocks State Park. I’d also received notification via text message that Lake Nockamixon State Park was closing as well. You can check out exactly what this closure means here, and also see which parks are affected. You can also use it to keep an eye on whether they will extend the closures beyond the next two weeks or include other parks as the situation unfolds.

While I can understand closing the administration buildings and rest rooms at these parks, I am puzzled over why they are closing the parking lots. Reading the link above, it does sound as though the trails themselves remain accessible, so hopefully they’ll go easy on enforcing the parking.

It simply doesn’t make sense to me that we would be restricting residents’ ability to get outside in the fresh air and walk, hike, bike, explore nature, go birding, learn about plants, and maybe even brush up on some survival skills, especially when the schools across the state are all closed for at least two weeks!

It Does a Body Good

Here’s an interesting article I came across today. While it’s not technically about walking or being out in nature in a recreational capacity (which seems to me would be even more beneficial), it does discuss some fascinating research and conclusions from studying the 1918 Spanish flu.

And if you’re questioning why the entire country seems to be implementing more and more draconian measures to help stem the spread of this virus, such as closing restaurants, bars, schools, and pretty much everything except food stores and pharmacies, here’s an article that explains the reasoning.

All in all, it will be much better for all of us (but especially our hospitals, which may soon get walloped by unprecedented numbers of people showing up all at once) if we can stem the exponential growth now. Every single day we wait to implement these measures increases the risks for all of us. So I guess the best thing we can hope for is to look back on the very weird times we’re going to endure and say, “It didn’t get as bad as it could have.”

Because that will mean these drastic measures worked.

Stay calm, stay centered, find something to be grateful for every day, and if you can – get outside and listen to those peepers!