Teachers Appear in Our Own Backyard Helping Navigate the Unexpected

So the other day, as I was cleaning up my Pinwheel Girl workroom, I saw a huge flash of BLACK out of the corner of my eye coming through the patio doors from outside in the backyard…

Something told to me to turn around and look, and as I did, I saw a second flash of BLACK….this one was even wider than the first.

The flashes of black were crows that had come to land on the fence posts enclosing my back yard. At first, you know, I was in awe…they were just so majestic perched there on the posts. And, wow, you know? There were TWO. Cool.

But a third one soon arrived. This one perched itself, first with its wings fully open from flight, onto a post on the other side of the fence…adjacent to the first two crows. This really made me take notice. Three crows were perched on my fence. I’d never seen a crow that up close before…and hadn’t realized the enormity of their size. They were imposing, but magnetic. Can you imagine three crows perched on your fence posts? It seemed , in a way, too good to be true.

"Wow, I should get my camera,” I thought. “I’m having a Crow encounter.” But then the three of them started to caw really loudly, and then one by one, each crow started flying towards something in the grass, flitting in and out, swooping down and up, over and over again, only to return time and again to their post. Then, to begin again within seconds the barrage of cawing, swooping, and flitting in and out of the grass.

I stepped out onto my deck to see what was happening and noticed a fourth crow in the birch tree directly in this area of my yard. It was observing more or less rather than participating. And then I saw a fifth crow perched high in my neighbor’s cottonwood tree – it also appeared to be “on guard.”

FIVE CROWS. “Hmmm. Something is happening here.“ Instantly, I started thinking about the number “5,” the significance of Crow animal medicine, and the sound of the “caw.”

But…to my horror, my BUNNY, who was out in the yard during all of this commotion, was the supposed target of all this crow activity. And there she was chasing them here and there, to and fro, til they returned to the fence posts. She was doggedly determined to chase them off, she flitted and darted, stopped and started. She even successfully chased one out into the open field behind my house. But they persevered in their attack on her…yet I could see her body running swiftly, outstretched legs, eyes wide open, chasing, chasing, chasing.

“Whatever is the matter,” I wondered. “What is this craziness?” I, too, then joined in the fray and started chasing the crows away.

In my naivete, I had no idea then what the crows wanted. I only saw my beautiful bunny, who has lived with me and my son in our backyard now for three and a half years, in total distress and under total attack. And so in that naievete, I was totally relieved to see that the bunny stayed put in the yard right where the crows had left her. I took that as a sign that she was comfortable with me…but perhaps, as I would find out the next day, that was quite a leap for me to make. I actually “consoled” my bunny, cooing to her, telling her I would protect her, softly whispering to her…and then I returned back to my workroom to continue with the day’s activities.

Much to my dismay the crows returned twice more throughout the afternoon and repeated their shenanigans. And twice more I ran out to the yard to shoo them away. Five crows…big, black crows with their shiny metallic black feathers, their loud, loud cawing…one rabbit…and me.

The next day I thought perhaps the drama was over, but I was wrong. Once again, the five crows returned and this time I saw one of the crows with a large piece of fur in its beak. During all of the swooping, flitting, and darting, it dropped the fur…and I ran out the patio doors to shoo them away again and give my bunny a much needed respite. It was then that I saw a small, brown, furry BABY BUNNY in the yard, just lying there out in the open, amidst a few tufts of yellowed grass. The fur that the crow had dropped had evidently been snatched from the baby’s nest in the grass – fur that came from my bunny’s own tummy to offer warmth and nurture to her young.

Now it was I who was in total distress at this point!

A baby bunny out in the middle of the yard with no protection! I knew that if I touched it chances of survival were slim to none. But what to do? I went into the house and came back out with a brush and dustpan. Why? I’m not sure. I had thoughts of moving it back into a more hidden nest area I could create in the grass. But by the time I returned, the baby bunny was gone. Nowhere to be seen, and yet the crows had not returned. Where did it go?

I poked around a bit and saw that the mother bunny had moved her young back into the nest area from where, possibly, one of the five crows had dragged it out. It was still alive, sleeping, heart beating. I could already see the development of its long ears, and its adorable cottontail. “Ok, well then, whew!“ was all I could muster at that point.

Back into the house I went.

That afternoon the crows returned and once again I was out there like a mother to the baby bunny myself. I felt this increasing anxiety and anger towards the crows. After all, five against one is a bit much, a bit skewed, don’t you think? I had noticed that all day, all night, from dawn to dusk, and through the night, my mother bunny stood watch outside in the yard, never leaving, never returning under the deck as she usually did. Instead she would munch ALL DAY on the leafy grass and then once in the morning and once at dusk, she’d hop over to the nest, lean over it, and nurse her young.

I was SO PROUD of my bunny! I must admit this. She was a fierce mother, determined, and completely confident against the crows. She was energetic, never tiring, always protective, on guard, defensive, and always at the ready. What a good little bunny.

But the afternoon brought more danger. The lawn service crew arrived and with them came the BIG LAWN MOWER. I had just gotten out of the shower when I heard the familiar roar. I was soaking wet and threw a t-shirt and sweat pants on and literally FLEW DOWN THE STAIRS, OUT THE DOOR, and INTO THE YARD, with my arms waving, yelling “STOP! STOP! STOP!” I showed the crew the baby’s little nest and the mowers agreed to steer clear of it. Another sigh of relief. Another “rescue.”

Again, I found that the bunny was teaching me lessons…just as she had when she first appeared in my yard over three years ago. Only this time, the crows were teaching me lessons, too.

Meaning of the Crow: Crow is an omen of changes to come. Crow medicine is about seeing all of our fates at the same time – past, present, future – in the Now. Crow medicine is also about having a powerful voice when addressing issues that seem out of harmony or out of balance. Crows encourage you to “caw” the shots as you see them. With the development of one’s Voice comes more personal integrity and character development and this allows loneliness to dissipate. Crow medicine is about shape-shifting your old reality into your future self so that there is balance between your past, present and future.

Meaning of the Rabbit: The rabbit is about fear and defense…leaping and hopping as a means of forward movement and escape…fertility and birth…sensitivity…and 28-day cycles due its procreation. Rabbits create “forms” which are used for hiding and resting. The rabbit digs a small, shallow “bowl” into the grass with an opening in front and in back to allow easy entry and exit. Often it is right out in the open but actually unseen. This means that people who identify with rabbits should probably plan for possibilities and not allow themselves to get boxed in or put in a corner. Rabbits can also easily shift from a freeze position to one of great speed. This is advantageous to emulate in that sometimes opportunities are fleeting and must be acted upon quickly in order to reap their benefits. Because of their sensitivities, rabbits can also show you how to see the various signs around you and then to respond accordingly.

I did indeed have a Crow and a Rabbit encounter this week. One that was dramatic and poignant. One that was hard not to miss in its clarity and directness. One that was pregnant with possibilities of what is to come as long as there is balance and integration of past, present and future. One that is highly instructive about setting boundaries, seeing the signs, being aware, and then acting appropriately in response. One that is about courage, determination, protection, quick thinking, awareness, purposeful action, and taking care of oneself so that others can be cared for, nurtured and protected efficiently. One that is about listening to the “caw” of teachers everywhere, even in our own backyards.

As I type this, I can see my bunny out there in the back yard, a shadow in the dusky early evening. She is munching away on the leafy grass that is due for yet another clipping. She is, as I have said before, one of my greatest teachers. I am so honored that she has chosen me to be her student in life.

To read more about the powerful teachings of the bunny who lives in my backyard, visit this post: http://pinwheelgirlmessagesfromthewind.blogspot.com/2009/05/there-are-teachers-everywhereand-wishes.html

Sources: Animal Speak by Ted Andrews, Medicine Cards by Jamie Sams & David Carson

A Little Bird Told Me: Encourage One Another and Build Each Other Up

"Encourage one another and build each other up."

Recently I had the occasion to witness both a tragic yet uplifting example of this Bible verse from I Thessalonians in action right outside the front door of my ex-husband's current home.

I had escorted him to the hospital earlier that morning and had just then dropped him off at home following a minor but necessary out-patient surgery. En route to the house, from the driveway, we heard and then saw a delicate, tiny baby robin squawking in the grass under a crabapple tree. Its beak was wide open begging for food, one of its infantile wings attempting to flutter. It was completely helpless and dependent and it was clearly suffering.

My ex-husband scooped up the baby robin and as I pulled back one of the main branches of the crabapple tree, to locate the nest, we were both absolutely horrified to see what awaited us there. First, there was a beautiful mud bowl of a perfectly round nest artfully resting in the crook of the main branches...secure, tight, and a sound piece of architecture. Inside it, two more baby robins, chirping and peeping, their beaks peering out of the nest's edge, gaping wide open.

The nest had the usual mixture of robin nest construction materials...mud, long strands of grass and reed, small sticks. But one ingredient of the nest was, at least to me, new and unusual. The nest's construction sported several swags of neon green netting wrapped around it's outer shape, like a scarf, with dangling bits that hung down. It was the kind of netting you see that is spread over new grass seed and straw. The netting keeps the straw securely covering the delicate sprouts of new grass so that it doesn't blow away leaving the new growth vulnerable. While that is a noble service, the netting unfortunately turned out to be a killer in the nest....

It was exactly what its name implied...

A net....

For beneath the nest, to our absolute horror, there hung a lifeless and rigid male robin, dead, its claw tangled in the netting. We struggled to regain our composure ~ it was shocking and completely sad to see this. First we were contending with this defenseless baby robin crying out for food and rescue, and now a dead parent bird swinging head down in the tree branches...and two more babies in the nest awaiting their next meal.

I cannot even describe the anxiety I began to feel...

Birds, as many of you know, are my totem animal, my power animal, my spirit animal...I have adored birds since I was a child waiting at the end of our driveway for the school bus to arrive. For years I observed their antics in the ditch and on the split-rail fence across the street that bordered the farm and field -- I watched the "Little Birds" flit from rail to rail trying out their wings. I watched them dart in and out of the tall grasses chirping to one another. I watched them swoop and soar, exercising their hearts, their wings, and all the while singing as they did so. And as a little girl, I secretly named myself Little Bird because I felt like one of them...always trying my wings, but needing the safety of my nest...and always in my mind flitting here and there, but never landing anywhere I could stay for too long.

So here we stood with one dying bird in our hand...gazing dumbfounded at a dead one hanging from the tree. In its struggle to free itself and survive, it had obviously flung itself about to wrest its claw from the trap of the net. In vain, it had broken its neck.

My heart was pounding and I felt panic ensue. We put the baby back into the nest and then we sadly cut the adult male down from its ghastly entrapment. My ex-husband got a shovel and dug into the earth to find worms which he then hand-fed to the babies -- each of whom hungrily gobbled them up.

It was at this time that we noticed another adult robin, sitting on the rooftop of a neighboring house. It was obvious that it had food in its beak and was anxious for us to leave the scene. We wondered if somehow this robin was on its way to the nest. Was it the mother? It was a smaller robin that the one we had just cut down. We watched from inside the house and sure enough it landed on the ground near the tree and then hopped inside it. The chirping ceased momentarily and then started up again as the bird flew off...

It returned only minutes later with more food for the hungry babies.

It was then that I recalled this favorite verse of mine. "Encourage one another and build each other up." I felt enormous relief that the baby robins would be cared for and saved.

Again, I thought of how we had just had a powerful "life and death" animal encounter, a spiritual encounter, with a power animal.

The robin is a symbol, of course, for Spring. Spring is for new life, renewal, starting again, and the inevitable confusion that comes with endings and beginnings. It has been several years since my divorce and the amicable and helpful relationship I have with my son's father is often confusing to people. The fact that I would take him to surgery and attend to his needs post-procedure baffled some. Yet he had done the same for me several months earlier when I had needed outpatient surgery.

It never occurred to me that just because we are divorced we would not be helpful people to each other going forward. Afterall, we co-parent a beautiful son together. Apparently, however, there are some who think we should proceed otherwise and limit contact with each other. Seeing the second robin come to the aid and rescue in feeding and caring for the babies made me realize it is ok to keep helping a person even after your "formal" relationship with him or her ends or is severed, or "dies" somehow. The dead robin seemed to me to symbolize the end of a chapter in both of our lives...the caregiving robin seemed to symbolize the new energy between us.

Sometimes all it takes is a simple but stunning or bittersweet example in our daily lives to remind us of what we already know deep inside. This is why I am keenly fond of the phrase "...a little bird told me..." I am so grateful for the affirmation that the whole family of robins gave me that morning.

"Encourage one another and build each other up." I Thessalonians 5:11

After the storm, gifts....

It was a wild Friday night here in Chicago! Severe thunderstorms, lightning shows across the sky, torrential downpours, trees and powerlines down, flooding and roads closed. As if that wasn't bad enough, next came tornado warnings, sirens blowing, fire engines and squad cars...and many a stalled cars amidst trees whipping in the wind.

And all the while my friend, Dawn, (don't you love her name?) and I were driving in all this on the way to our first quincenara for our friend's twin daughters. We did arrive safely to our destination. We were late, of course, having to contend with all this -- and soaking wet in our dresses and heels. The wind was blowing the rain sideways by now and the parking lot was holding several inches of water. But, still, onward we went knowing that dinner, drinks, and dancing would soon take our minds off the treacherous conditions outside.

The evening was wonderful and I got home rather late. By now the storm had subsided and my headlights could illuminate some of its remnants lying on the ground. Back at home though, the neighborhood was pitch black dark, of course, and therefore I was unknowing of what had happened in my own backyard during the storm. Despite the lateness of the hour, I logged on anyway to check my various networking sites just to see if someone might want to chat. Though it was late I didn't feel like turning in just yet. But internet was down and my landline phone was out, too. So it was off to dreamland...despite my inner protestations.

When I awoke on Saturday morning I could not believe what I was seeing literally in my back yard. What is normally a large field of grass was now a HUGE lake...yes, this spot of land is a water retention area but I've never, ever seen it so full of water...it was, literally, a LAKE. Beautiful mature trees were standing in the middle of it...it's edges reached almost to the fence of my yard.

It was beautiful....but there was more beauty to come...I didn't know that yet...since I had to discover it....

As I went about my morning rituals, I saw that a solitary egret had arrived. Followed by several mallards and even more geese. These glorious waterbirds were taking flight, then gliding over the water, and then performing their soft and graceful landings...one after the other, like an airport on water. They were loving it! It was a new playground for them, a new place for them to explore. The egret waded in the shallows quietly observing the fancifulness of the other birds. It really was a beautiful performance.

I quietly hustled myself out there to take some photos of the egret - so majestic white it stood in the shallows of this new water source. I was only able to capture one photo of it in repose before it took off in flight and graced me with a wingspan of fluttering and flapping sheer white that left me breathless.

I went back inside and readied my home for a gathering of ladies who would arrive later in the day. But the water kept calling me back...the sun glistening on this new scenic vista outside my window create a jewel-like effect. You have to understand...I live in the middle of the Chicago suburbs...this is unusual for us surrounded by so much of the subdivision concrete!

This Sunday morning, the new lake is now smaller in size, but it is still magnificent. Barefoot, I went outside to explore and took my camera. I could not believe what I was finding...

There were feathers EVERYWHERE. Feathers are one of my very favorite things in this world. They are the Universal symbol for Truth. And they were everywhere. Black ones, white ones, gray ones, of all shapes and sizes....right away I knew this would be a very special little adventure. I would be finding some "truths" here.

Next I discovered that a flock of seven robins were gathered together eating from the soggy grass. They seemed to be delirious with joy in their new food source. And, there were seven mallards on the lake...swimming in parade-like fashion, one after the other, round and round....their honking had woken me up earlier at 7 a.m. through my open windows...Their gentle gliding to and fro, so unhurried, was surely a message to slow down, take your time, and enjoy the ride.

Seven robins....seven mallards....Hmmmm. This had to be signifcant. Seven, of course, is the number of stages of transition I've identified in my book, The Pinwheel Girl Takes Flight. And we all know that seven is a magical number for many, many reasons. But seven robins and seven mallards....what, then, could this gift mean?

As I walked the circumference of this new "lake" I found that I was really taken with the trees standing in the middle of all this water, their trunks immersed. There were several sets of trees like this and I started to photograph them. But it was a pair of trees that, when I saw what they were "saying" to me, I felt lightheaded, like a bolt of lightning from the storm had just hit me, like my heart skipped a beat...

These two clusters of trees standing upright in the middle of the water...they were saying "this lake is for you...and all the gifts that have come with it...they are all for you...there are messages here for you to see, learn from, absorb, and have faith in..." See? There were "truths" to be revealed.

The trunks of the trees, along with the reflections that they created on the water's surface, perfectly and without a doubt, created MY INITIALS -- a double "K" -- it was as plain as day....I could see it like I could see my hand. I could feel the Universe saying "With this storm, let's deliver a gift to KK." Suddenly, the lake became "mine" though I know others will most surely enjoy it. Suddenly, the egret and those seven ducks and those seven robins became mystical companions to me.

And suddenly I knew that once again the Universe always delivers to you EXACTLY what you need when you need it. It is all about trust. Trust that you will be taken care of, that your needs will be met, that you are loved no matter what, that prayers are heard AND answered, that every day is a gift full of gifts, and that life on this planet is precious and we are privileged every day that we are here to partake in what life brings us.

It was a moment when I felt for sure that I was sitting in the palm of God's hand....to see the Double K...it was a moment of deep grace and inspiration for me. I've been attached to my initials my whole life...and never changed my name as I aged and wed. There they were...on this new found body of water.

So what did the lake and it's messages mean? Why were they sent to me? I looked up the Animal Medicine for each of the animals I encountered this morning. What I would find would once again fill my heart with gladness, recovery, and deep peace.

The robin -- harbinger of spring, new life, new growth. Seven of them. The song of the robin is very mystical -- it recognizable almost as soon as the warmth of the spring sun appears. The song is used to mark territory even though it is considered a song of cheer. When robins appear en masse in one's life, it reflects a need to "sing your own song" and pave your own way to new growth.

The duck -- symbols of emotional comfort and protection. Seven of them. Ducks help us remember to navigate with ease the waters of our life. Ducks come to tell us it is time to shed the feelings of discomfort with people in your life and to find others who are more like-minded in spirit. Ducks also remind us to return home to those places inside ourselves where we feel most safe and protected.

So the robin and the duck brought me messages today of balance....striking out, singing my own own song, but returning to realms of comfort. Wow, that was really a gracious message.

The egret -- the egret's medicine is about learning to be self-reliant and assertive about entering deeper waters without fear. They teach about learning to stand on your own two feet. They send reminders about independence.

I have to say that I needed to hear all three of these messages on this particular morning of my life. I love how the Universe flows and brings to our spirit what it needs for restoration and inspiration. For me, there is spirituality and God's presence in all of nature. Animals and all of the elements have so much to teach us when we encounter them with awareness and symbolic sight.

I share this story with you not because I want to single myself out as "special" but because I want to encourage all of you, if you are not in the habit of doing so yet, to see with symbolic sight, to speak more often in metaphor, to look every single day of your life for the gifts it brings you, to find the peace the Universe so often delivers if we only could receive it. Many times we feel that the days all blur and run together. "Same old, same old" we say. But every day there is a message waiting for you to uncover. Sometimes the most ordinary days are the best kind.

Peace to all of you who are reading this today. May you find today's gifts flourishing deeply in your heart like I have. See the signs and rejoice!

"...there are teachers everywhere...the day is full of gifts...look, listen, feel..."

There are Teachers Everywhere...and Wishes Do Come True

When I first got married many years ago now I lived in a 100-year-old farm house. It was the kind of house that had intense character and charm ~ by this I mean it had no closets at all, not one, and the basement had a dirt floor. The floors were crooked and none of the doors could close all the way. The staircase opening was so low and narrow a double bed mattress could not fit through it and we struggled with roof maintenance, having regular heat, and proper plumbing for modern day appliances. Nevertheless we loved our picturesque farmhouse and so we filled it with antiques and farm tools, kitchen gadgets from the 40's and 50's and an assortment of cozy and comfortable furnishings. All that was missing was the rabbit.

I really wanted a rabbit. I envisioned taking care of a cute little bunny who would "hang out" in a cute little gingerbread-style rabbit hutch painted in "country" colors in the back yard. I even had a great place for the hutch ~ nestled amongst the newly thriving wildflower garden of cosmos, purple coneflower, blackeyed susan, phlox, and more. For me, the idea of a rabbit in a hutch would complete our country home without having to actually do any farming. Afterall, we were smack dab in the middle of Chicago suburbia!

But, alas, there were many arguments made against having a rabbit and so the dream passed and within four years time, tired of repairing gutters and windows that wouldn't properly open or close, we sold the "old" farmhouse and bought a "new" one in a progressive conservation community on an Illinois prairie. The new farmhouse was made with energy efficient construction in a low density subdivision plan. The community boasted its own charter school and an organic farm complete with a wind turbine. There was mandatory composting and recycling and every home had open views of prairies of tall grasses, wildflowers, lakes and farm land. Surely, I thought, it was time for me to have my rabbit in this perfect environment!

Unfortunately, the constant threat of coyotes, I was told, made having a rabbit in a hutch a dangerous endeavor and a near certainty predicting the rabbit's demise. And without even the slightest bit of subtlety, I was told by various people that I would hate taking care of the rabbit, I would hate cleaning out the hutch - which would be required daily, and I would hate that rabbits have to have their teeth filed -- and what was I going to do about all that? I would even get tired of and eventually hate feeding the rabbit!! they said. And what about the excessive Chicago summer heat wih the poor rabbit all cooped up in a wooden hutch? The naysayers went on and on until once again the idea of having a rabbit came and went.

By now you might be asking why I was so predisposed to have a rabbit -- especially since I was a suburban girl and had never ever visited a working farm or had any pets other than a family dog to take care of -- I really cannot tell you why. I just know that I wanted one. I really couldn't articulate the reason why then and still not now. I just knew that somehow I was yearning for one. And somehow I was always "told" by someone else that I could not have one.

Many years passed and with them came many changes. Our beautiful son grew, careers took hold, life got routinized, dreams were abandoned in favor of getting through the busy days, vacations were rare, communication lagged, relationships suffered, and then one day I woke up and realized it was time for a new life, a new birth, a new beginning. My husband and I divorced agfter 17 years of marriage and we each moved to new homes.

Times were tough during that transition. There was a lot of fear. There was a lot of worry. Can I take care of myself? Will I be safe living on my own? Will I be able to handle what comes my way? Will I thrive? Will I be able to resurrect what I have lost? Will I be able to handle being competely alone?

It was time to find out.

I moved to one-half of a duplex in a high density subdivision in the suburbs of Chicago. The duplex was and is perfect for my 11 year old son and I. It offered us beautiful interior colors and a third extra bedroom I could convert into an art studio to support my now newly rediscovered need to draw Pinwheel Girls. The back yard boasted a wood fence painted gray, a large deck, and a retractible sun shade over it. My kitchen window overlooks a stunningly gorgeous open space that many people mistakenly think is part of a golf course. Mature trees are everywhere. There is a pool and a golf course, basketball hoops, and bike paths. When I purchased it, I knew it would be perfect for me and my son for our new life.

Interestingly, not even a year in the duplex I saw that, lo and behold, I had a co-resident hanging out with my son and I in the backyard. She arrived on Easter Sunday ~ of all miracles. A rabbit. Plump, soft, thriving, complete with a cottony cottontail. Easter Sunday - a symbolic holiday for rabbits which embody the idea of "new life" and "resurrection from the dead."

Three years later she is still with us.

She lives under the deck. Every morning she comes out for her daily munchies of dandelion leaves. Then she lays around in the sun all sprawled out, relaxing and sunbathing as any good rabbit would do. As afternoon arrives, she rests under the shade of the tall pine tree. We love to see her hopping all over the yard, her little white cottonball of a tail frolicking behind her. Last year she birthed baby bunnies for us to enjoy and they inmitated their momma's behavior just perfectly. Imagine our delight to see momma bunny and baby bunnies romping around the yard!

I have photographed her and my son and I sit on the deck and chat with her, coo to her, and feed her shredded carrots and lettuce in the summer. Every morning I look for her out my kitchen window and my heart soars to see her hopping or lying around...munching on the tall grass and weeds that try to pass themselves off as a "lawn" at my house.

So...with all this rabbit energy surrounding me and my little duplex I decided to research the symbolism of the rabbit. What I discovered amazed and touched me so deeply. I knew then that the other times in my life when I had yearned for a rabbit were not the right times to receive one.

Native Americans believed that the rabbit stood for "fear." They also represent "fertility" and "new life."

As we all know, a rabbit is prey for many animals. Yet, it is equipped with the gifts of very high speed and agility to outrun predators as well as the ability to reproduce itself in high numbers to preserve itself as a species. When a rabbit hears or senses the threat of danger, what does it do? It runs!! Fast! They also have the amazing ability to stop and start, twist and turn in their path, and change directions with lightning speed.

The rabbit can also make great leaps and hops...Hmmmm.

The rabbit is also considered the sacred animal of the Greek goddess, Hecate, who ruled over women's transitions. Learning this was like receiving a lightning bolt to my head...I was right in the middle of managing a major life transition -- ending a long marriage, beginning life as a single, mid-life woman and, now for the first time, a single mom, too -- and I even had a small porcelain statue of Hecate in my living room to honor the transition I was experiencing...

I was indeed crafting a "new life" for myself and my son. Powerful medicine this little rabbit is.

And so as I researched, I found that the lesson of the rabbit coming into your life is for you to stop demonstrating so much fear and to stop talking about it. Afterall, what you fear most is what you will become. When a rabbit shows up in your life, it is a sign to tell you to stop worrying, to stop saying "What if this tragedy happens" and "what if that horrible thing happens" and, in my case, to stop saying "What if I can't handle this?" and "What if I have done the wrong thing?" and "What if I really can't take care of myself after all these years?" The rabbit wants you to instead focus on how there is always a way out in every situation, or problem, or with every fear you face.

So now when I see my little rabbit, who I finally have as one of my companions, I know now why I had to wait 17 years for her. I didn't need her before. I needed her at just the right time that she arrived. She came when I had to deeply examine my fears. When I had to cast them aside and take my life into my own control. When I had to forge ahead with leaps and hops. When I had to create a new beginning, a new birth, for myself. She came when I could be open to what she had to show me.

The Universe works with us and for us, not against us. And there are teachers everywhere. Even in my little rabbit who lives under the deck. She requires no hutch, no special care, no worries from me about the heat or about coyotes. She requires only that I pay attention to the gifts I am given from the Universe...and to learn from them. She has become one of my greatest teachers in my life to date. She with the little cottontail.