I set my intent a long time ago to become psychically aware, not to become a psychic per se, but to become aware of the signs and synchronicities in my life that were showing me things I might not have noticed without this intent uppermost in my process of transformation. Today, I write about the significance of the crow as a sign of this intent manifesting in the world. As Jeanne mentions in her message on Monday, we must use the outer world to the fullest in order to grow, and I have found this to be one of the truest statements and especially useful in doing inner work.
In his book Animal Speak, Ted Andrews says this about the crow:
“The first noticeable characteristic about this bird is its striking black color. Sometimes it will have hints of deep blue and purple on the feathers as well. Black is the color of creation. It is the womb out of which the new is born. It is also the color of the night. Black is the maternal color and thus the black night gives birth to a new day. Although the crow is a diurnal or daytime bird, it reminds us that magic and creation are potentials very much alive during the day. The crow, because of its color, was a common symbol in medieval alchemy. It represented “nigredo,” the initial state of substance—unformed but full of potential.”
As I wrote about last week, in recounting our experiences with the death of our dog in On the Wings of the Crow, a crow made repeated passes over the house, a sign I noted as the energy of our dog moving on to new life, the transformation from one state of being to another. Had I not been deeply immersed in the process of my original intent—to become more aware—I might have missed the opportunity to round out the experiences of that day in such a satisfying and transformational manner.
The crow has continued to show itself. In fact, in our rural neighborhood, crows are some of our most vocal neighbors, posting themselves as sentinels for other crows and birds, but for their human neighbors as well. I have learned to pay attention to the noisy crows. More often than not, if I hear a racket of crow energy I can be pretty sure that something of interest is happening in nature. If I am alert, I know I will be treated to a little magic. Paying attention to the crows has become one of my personal educational processes as I seek to train my awareness, so it was not unusual for me to take note of the cawing crow outside the window on the day of Spunky’s death.
It was lovely to have the warmer weather over the weekend, rainy though it was. The twenty-four inches of snow still covering the ground, having accumulated since last December 26th, melted away as we watched the winter weary lawn reappear and the first green tips of the daffodils peak up from the cold ground, letting us know that spring was not far off. It was drizzling a little on Saturday, though warm enough to be outside for a nice long walk, but then, on Sunday, it rained—torrentially. The wind blew all day and all night, and then the rain changed to freezing rain and then it started to snow. In the middle of the night I heard the loud cracks of branches breaking in nearby trees and ice crystals pelting against the windows. Up at five-thirty we were astounded to see the ground covered, blanketed in snow again, our hopes of an early spring dashed.
Once again I armed myself with my trusty snow shovel and headed out late in the day on Monday, after a full day’s work, to clear what snow remained on the driveway and pathways. It was still cold, only the top layer of snow had melted during the day and I was left to remove the thick layer of ice I had heard falling through most of the night. I was not feeling especially happy about undertaking this task yet again, now getting quite tiresome after a full winter of weekly snowstorms. But the sun was shining and when I looked up into the branches of the oaks and maples the late afternoon light coming through their ice-covered branches was beautiful against the still blue sky. Squinting into the light, the glistening branches turned into thin fingers of refracted light and rainbows of color danced before my eyes, and this lightened my mood considerably and the work wasn’t so hard after all.
A big black crow flew overhead, cawing loudly, as I shoveled and I noted its presence and once again thought of our dog Spunky and an incident that happened just a few days after her passing. I had gone to the woodpile to get a load of wood for the woodstove. Stepping out the basement door I heard something scrambling on the other side of the woodpile, out of sight. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it sounded big. I thought an animal was most likely rooting through the compost pile, taking frozen bits of food scraps, scrounging for something edible. I surmised it had been a hard winter for the animals with the thick frozen snow cover and so I did not want to disturb whatever might be feasting on whatever our frozen scraps could offer.
I quietly crept up to the woodpile, but whatever it was must have heard me coming, for I heard a quick scurrying. Not knowing what to expect, a little wary, I waited to see what might appear. Suddenly, I heard a heavy shuffling and a loud bark, as a large crow spread its heavy wings, staggered off the compost pile, and flew into a nearby tree. It landed on a branch, turned and looked back at me, cawing loudly, almost barking, its body bobbing up and down, looking and acting very much like a dog vigorously barking an excited greeting.
“Oh! Hello there, Spunky!” I said, without hesitation. “Nice to see you again. I see that you are well.” The crow responded with more happy barking caws as it watched me load up my wood sack with logs and, as I turned and headed back into the house, I noted that one of Spunky’s favorite little outings was to sneak off to munch at the fresh compost, rotting banana peels one of her favorite treats.
As I shoveled the driveway, I noted again the large crow, and acknowledged its presence as that of the energy of Spunky: energy transformed, still viable, still present, still seeking connection. I also noted that I no longer feel doubt creeping into my experiences as I did in the past. For the longest time doubt was the greatest petty tyrant and I was forced to deal with it again and again. In my interactions with Jeanne, in my personal encounters with phenomena of energy and magic, it would immediately sweep in and hurry me back to the world of solid reality, asking me to test my experiences against the rational mind, what the seers of ancient Mexico call the foreign installation. It took a long time and many battles against the foreign installation, against the world of solid objects, before I was able to suspend judgment and fully release my attachment to an old perception of reality and fully embrace a different reality, different means of perception, and finally to release myself from my ego’s embarrassment and dismay at the birthing of my psychic abilities.
Now however, after having dealt doubt so many deadly blows, it rarely creeps up on me. Now freed of its heavy depressing cloak of reality I can fully enjoy the magic of the world I elect to live in, the world of all nature. I can look into the magic of light dancing through the ice-covered branches of the trees and hear the barking crow and connect to the energy of all things, myself included.
Every time I go outside now there seems to be one large black crow calling more loudly than the others. I greet its energy and thank it for showing me once again that my intent to notice is working for me, my desire to understand the interconnectedness of all things is being given priority within that intent and that desire, and I thank my innocent self for taking the journey that has allowed me to get to this place. For I feel free now, open to life in a very different way. Without the petty tyrant of doubt I am indeed free to experience the magic, but I am also free to keep taking it one step further, into deeper awareness.
Open to learning more about how the world of energy works, I look forward to each moment of each day, taking note of what I read, what I hear and see, and how in alignment with nature I am becoming. In noting how synchronicity works, in paying attention to what comes to greet me, I continue training my awareness, my psychic abilities; the ability inherent in all of us.
I take the sign of the crow as meaningful and I listen to what it has to tell me. As Ted Andrews also writes about the crow:
“Wherever crows are, there is magic. They are symbols of creation and spiritual strength. They remind us to look for opportunities to create and manifest the magic of life. They are messengers calling to us about the creation and magic that is alive within our world everyday and available to us.”
Be open to the magic, and without doubt embrace your own psychic abilities; take note of what life presents, and without fear embrace the energy of interconnectedness.
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NOTE: Animal Speak by Ted Andrews, and many other books of interest are available for purchase through our STORE.