Little notes from the Universe.....

 I believe that guardian angels take many shapes and forms.

I've always known that mine come to me as birds...

From as far back as I can remember I have always been

surrounded by birds... and gifted with their feathers...

little notes from the Universe

just to let me know...

I'm being watched over...

and to remind me to celebrate life...

 

The Judgement of the Birds ~ Loren Eiseley

"The sun was warm there...and the murmurs of forest life blurred softly away into my sleep.

When I awoke...dimly aware of some commotion and outcry in the clearing...the light was

slanting down through the pines in such a way that the glade was lit like some vast cathedral.

I could see the dust motes of wood pollen in the long shaft of light...and there on the extended

branch sat an enormous raven with a red and squirming nestling in his beak.

The sound that awoke me was the outraged cries of the nestlings parents...who flew helplessly

in circles about the clearing. The sleek black monster was indifferent to them. He gulped...

whetted his beak on the dead branch a moment and sat still. Up to that point the little

tragedy had followed the usual pattern. But suddenly...out of all the area of woodland...

a soft sound of complaint began to rise. Into the glade fluttered small birds of half a

dozen varieties drawn by the anguished outcries of the tiny parents.

No one dared to attack the raven. But they cried there in some instinctive common

misery...the bereaved and the unbereaved. The glade filled with their soft rustling

and their cries. They fluttered as though to point their wings at the murderer.

There was a dim intangible ethic he had violated...that they knew. He was the bird

of death.

And he...the murderer...the black bird at the heart of life...sat on there...glistening

in the common light...formidable...unmoving...unperturbed...untouchable.

The sighing died. It was then I saw the judgement. It was the judgement of

life against death. I will never see it again so forcefully presented. I will never

hear it again in notes so tragically prolonged. For in the midst of protest...they

forgot the violence. There...in that clearing...the crystal note of a song sparrow

lifted hesitantly in the hush. And finally...after painful fluttering...another took the

song...and then another...the song passing from one bird to another...doubtfully

at first...as though some evil thing were being slowly forgotten. Till suddenly

they took heart and sang from many throats joyously together as birds are

known to sing. They sang because life is sweet and sunlight is beautiful. They

sang under the brooding shadow of the raven. In simple truth they had forgotten

the raven...for they were the singers of life...and not death." 

When Women Were Birds ~ Terry Tempest Williams

"Once upon a time when women were birds...there was the simple

understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal

the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten...

that the world is meant to be celebrated."