Impatience Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

The Turkey Distractors – Photo: L. Weikel

180 Degree Attitude Shift

I had an interesting evolutionary experience yesterday. I underwent a 180 degree attitude shift as a result of a most unexpected encounter.

Yesterday afternoon, I ran out to the grocery store to pick up a few items. As I made my way home, navigating the puddles of rainwater accumulating on the asphalt and feeling the weight of the creeping fog that matched my mood all too well, I found myself behind a Bucks County Transport Company bus, it’s blinking yellow light caroming off the droplets of water suspended in midair.

The bus had slowed to a stop to allow a neighbor’s disabled brother to disembark, backpack clutched to his chest, his steps carefully measured so as not to lose his balance. His sister, a person I consider to be a passing acquaintance (quite literally, since we really only know each other from when she and her husband jog by us as we take our walks), was standing just up the driveway, waiting to greet him with a wide smile and open arms.

I felt so privileged in that moment to witness such unadulterated and spontaneous love and kindness.

A Moment Disrupted

My appreciation of that moment was jarred out of place by the revving of an engine immediately behind me. Looking in my rearview mirror, I saw a massive pickup truck looming over me, pulled up so close that its headlights were barely visible. It revved its engine again, and I could sense that it wanted to swing out into the oncoming lane and pass both me and the bus ahead of me, but was being forced to stay behind us by approaching traffic.

The impatience was palpable. The judgment, too.

But the bus resumed its route just as the oncoming car went by, and sealing the pickup’s fate of having to remain behind us was the approach of a second car in the opposing lane.

Just down a piece, my road splits off from the main thoroughfare. The bus bore left, remaining on the primary road, while I took the offshoot leading to my home. Regrettably, the gigantic pickup followed me. It continued ‘up my butt’ until I pulled straight into my driveway just to get out of its way. Unsurprisingly, its engine gunned as the impediment to its haste (yours truly) was removed. It tore down my road, far exceeding the 30 mile an hour limit.

It Must Be the Season

As I started writing this post, I realize that the attitude that clicked into gear in my head at that moment was not all that far off from something that happened last year.

You guessed it. When the pickup revved its mag engine yet again and sped down my road, I just had to see where this jerk was going. I backed out onto my road and started following the truck. We went about three quarters of a mile, with me keeping a decent enough distance behind that I was in no danger of being perceived as following. I saw where the truck coasted through a stop sign and turned off onto another road, but as I approached that same stop sign a flock of about 12 turkeys burst out from the left side of the road, crossed right in front of me, and landed pell-mell on the wooded bank above me.

Well, I could not let this opportunity pass. I stopped the car, turned on my 4-ways, and got out, all the while talking to the turkeys and thanking them for the gift of their presence. I told them how much more fun it was to be encountering them than chasing after some jerk.

Even More Gifts

As I took the photo above, I heard a couple muted gobbles and turned back to where the dozen had emerged. I was astounded to see at least another two dozen turkeys running through the leaves, down the bank on the opposite side and splashing through the creek that runs parallel to the road. They were running, half flying, and just making a total ruckus.

I was enchanted. I’ve never seen so many turkeys in one place.

Suddenly, all the turkeys that had burst out in front of me, crossing the road and breaking my determined chase after the impatient pickup started flying back across the road to return to their flock. I took a video, but it’s mostly of me swirling and twirling about, trying to catch them as they took off all around me. It was amazing and they had me laughing out loud. And the aerodynamic skills of these hefty birds (check out that photo) were, umm, comical to say the least.

And so it was that a 180 degree shift in attitude was the gift Turkey – actually a whole enormous flock of them – brought me yesterday. The delight they brought me was a reminder to focus on the love I’d just witnessed at my neighbor’s home.

Funny though – while it didn’t serve me to focus on the unconsciousness and impatience of the bully pickup, I do send it gratitude for leading me to a reminder of what’s important. Without it, I would’ve missed that remarkable encounter.

Turkey butts – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-713)

It’s the Little Things

This title could lead me down many, many roads, some more savory than others. But as you can tell from the accompanying photo, the road I’m choosing is pretty benign. And that’s the whole point.

You see that little bit of blood lurking at the corner of my pinky? I’ll admit it; it’s the product of me picking at myself. Not one for manicures, I nevertheless have reasonable looking fingernails. Most of the time, at least.

Not as of today.

Lately things have been coming to a head around me in a variety of ways. Chickens coming home to roost (and no, not Duckhead’s girls, although I did get the chance to bond with the ladies for five days or so last week), or just time taking its toll. Maybe just life happening, and I’m being called upon to deal with it.

I find myself trying harder than usual lately to walk my talk; to practice what I preach. What I’m driving at here is I’ve been straining to listen. And every time I think I’m being pointed in a particular direction or given a certain message to follow through on, it feels like the rug gets pulled out from under me. Or a door slams shut. Or the RT of D turns on.

And I have a sneaking feeling that sometimes I give the mistaken impression that listening is easy. Or rather, receiving answers or discerning guidance is easy. Those aren’t necessarily the same as listening, since listening, to me, means acting upon what the message you’ve received.

There’s a Difference Between Listening ‘to’ Others and Listening ‘for’ Ourselves

I should clarify here: to be a good listener for others, we usually need to break ourselves of the habit of wanting to take action in response to what another is telling us. We need to refrain from trying to solve their problem or fix their issue.

But when we are seeking guidance either from our own souls or our Higher Selves, our guardians or guides, or whatever you want to call the receipt of insight or wisdom or direction from a mostly unknowable or indefinable source that resonates deeply within us, a primary way of acknowledging receipt of and respect for that guidance is to take action in alignment with it.

My difficulty lately has been receiving the message, not listening to it. Well, I probably shouldn’t jump the gun on that, actually. Because who knows? Once I finally move beyond this impasse and gain clarity on what I’m supposed to be doing ‘next’ with my life, I can only hope that I will accept the message and listen to it (i.e., act upon that message) with grace.

I want to think that will be the case. But I’m not there yet, so who knows. (I will keep you apprised.)

In the meantime, I’m fretting. I have to admit, I loathe asking for guidance and receiving the proverbial dial tone. (And wow – I just realized how outdated an expression that’s becoming. Quite literally, there are probably a lot of people who have only known cell phones and therefore aren’t even aware of what a dial tone is or what one sounds like. That’s unsettling.)

A Reminder to Be Patient – and Kind

I want to take action. I want to listen. I want to be a catalyst for improvement. But I want to act when appropriate. I want to take whatever steps are asked of me when they will be most effective.

All of which entails waiting – at least in the short term. As I mentioned above, it’s not as if I’ve been standing still. I continue to ask; and when I think I’m receiving a response, I follow through by exploring it. Lately, as I said, I’ve felt the bruise of doors slamming in my face (or maybe on my fingers?).

Ha ha. No. Not on my fingers. That bloody little pinky is a casualty of my doubt, my insecurity. It’s evidence of my worry that maybe I’m not going to receive a message or an answer ‘in time’ to make a difference. It’s evidence that I’m picking at myself.

And the funny thing is, throughout the entire process of writing this post, it’s hurt like a bratty little bitch. My pinky is nagging at me, taunting me. Calling me to pay attention to what I know. Calling me to be kind to myself and trust that sometimes other things, things we have no knowledge of, need to fall into place before we can take the next step to act on our listening.

(T- 1014)