The Way of the Crow



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I pictured myself back in Sedona, climbing over the rocks and finding a cave. In the cave was a hole going down, down, down. When I slid and followed its direction, I came out at the bottom of the canyon. Ahead of me was a raven (a member of the crow family) sitting on a ledge. I looked to my right and noticed another cave. The raven flew over to it, and out of the cave came a Native man whom I felt had great wisdom. I climbed up to the cave and stood between the raven and the man. I became a part of both of them, and then just the raven. I took off in his form and flew the skies over Sedona. It was fantastic, the freedom, the flight. When we returned I bid good bye to the wise man and the raven, and thanked them for a wonderful journey ending with "I hope we meet again, soon". With that I fell asleep.  

Next morning, at the office, I walked over to the window ledge where we place outgoing mail . . . . I looked at the window and saw a group of six crows . . . . One broke away and began walking up the incline towards the window I was peering out of. At that moment a co-worker passed by and said, "Hey, look at that crow!". The words from the night before came to my mind . . . "I hope we meet again, soon".

Since those early encounters with crows, Dorothy has had many experiences. She learned that her totem bird is the raven, and that she has a spiritual guide named "Swift Raven". She remarked that "Crows always seem to be there for me. They are a 'sign' which I always find comforting." In fact, she began feeding the crows which frequent the area where she works. Later, she was rewarded with the gift of a crow feather.

Dorothy has kept a written account of her crow and raven stories. The stories are interesting in that they reveal the close connection between Dorothy and her bird allies.

Last Christmas, one of our sons was leaving with his family after a lovely week's visit. A five hour trip was ahead of them. As they drove away I asked that they have a safe trip, to be watched over and protected. At that moment two crows flew out from somewhere, passed over their car, and flew in the direction they were headed. I knew for sure they would arrive home safely . . . . There was that "sign".  

Another happening occured last winter when I went to the hospital for a breast biopsy. For weeks my mind whirled over the most negative thoughts. I was a wreck. Leaving for the hospital in the early hours of the morning, I opened the door and stepped into the dark. A crow flew overhead. Part of me knew this was a good sign, but the other part was too scared to think positively. Had to have another mammogram so the doctors could pinpoint with needles the section to be removed. After three pictures they came to say they couldn't find the area they had previously been suspicious of. The operation wouldn't be taking place. Back in my room I ate up the feeling of relief.  

While I waited for my husband to come back to the hospital to take me home, I sat looking out at the beautiful tree that was pressed up against the window. Two crows flew into the tree cawing and puffing out their chest feathers (have never, ever seen that before). What a performance. They seemed to be just as elated as I was. Walking down the hallway I looked into the rooms as we passed. None of them had a view of a tree.  

When I was packing for my trip to Ireland a few weeks ago, I had a lot of things stored in an outside room for the suitcase. Walking out with an arm load of clothes, I looked down at my feet, and there sticking up was a blue jay feather (cousin of the crow). Picked it up from the ground, put it in a small plastic bag, and attached it to the inside of my suit case, along with a poem from a book my daughter had given me called Spirit Walker . . . "When a feather falls at your feet, it means you are to travel on wings of curiosity. Don't be afraid of strange lands or a language you don't understand. The feather means freedom. Why else do you think the bird gave it to you?"  

A favourite gift last Christmas was from my husband, Larry. It is an old wood carving of a crow that sits on a stick (an antique). Have it on my desk in a narrow necked brown pottery bottle. The crow looks down on me as I write. The black feather is there too.

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