An experience in an autumn meadow
On a table near my bed rests a feather. It is a talisman of the finest kind, delivered to me in the way such wonders should --- by chance, discovered when most needed. A feather snared in tall dry grasses, a symphony of browns and earth, appearing at my feet. A symbol from an anonymous donor, accompanied by an amorphous voice who spoke four clear and simple words. “You are not alone.” All this is as true as anything I know.
I am a creature not given to belief, yet to deny this extraordinary event would in itself be non-scientific. A feather as real as any carbon-based life form. A voice as real as any sound my ears have ever heard. When the unreal is vouchsafed, we then must accept its truth, and in the accepting, must ultimately accept as well the why and the wherefore of it all. It is unwise and serves no useful purpose not to do this.
This experience of mine was help in its purest form, help when I needed it most desperately, help which eventually saved my life. To question the particulars is to deny the obvious, and to deny the obvious is to be ungrateful in the extreme.
An experience in an autumn meadow. To what end, for what purpose? For the continuance of my life, of that there is no doubt. Sent by whom, from whom the voice? I still have no idea. There are possibilities. I only know that I believe in the strings that vibrate. What causes those strings to vibrate remains for me a mystery.
Keywords:
Toni Morrison says, “If there is a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” So I have. HIGHWAY TO OBLIVION.”
About Mara
A naïve Maine native, I arrived at NYU eager to become a lawyer (until l met one!) so switched to Art History (all those beautiful slides!), studied anatomy and painting at the Art Students League, wrote art criticism for “The Villager” and handled foreign...
Connections
Causes Mara Buck Supports
Kennebec Valley Humane Society, Amnesty International
but a great mystery,
nonetheless, Mara! Isn't it grand altogether!
nice blog, by the way...I really liked it and it sent positive vibrations, too...thanks, nan
Again, serendipity
Our responses and blogs seem linked, Nan. Dimes and feathers and things larger in the universe than we are. My experience was very real and with the courage gained from it I found the ultimate cancer surgeon.
Glad we can share positive vibrations. Thanks. Mara
Dimes and Feathers
Mara--I had just read Nan's blog and your comment there before I read your blog. Yes, the blogs are so linked. I could just see that beautiful feather appearing at your feet snared by the tall dry grasses, a symphony of browns and earth. Despite your "not being given to belief," I think you know very well who the anonyomous donor was and who the voice belonged to. Thanks for sharing this extraordinary experience of God's love for you. I am glad you listened to the voice and that you kept the feather.
Amazing synchronicity. I
Amazing synchronicity. I must admit, Sue, that I was truly humbled by the experience, and as I said, I would have been foolish to discount it. It is all within my novel.
I wonder how many feathers and dimes there are of which we are unaware. I suspect there are some special signs for each of us if we look. As always, I love your kind and wise thoughts.
Talisman
Breathless beauty Mara - the language flows like feathery snow and falls onto me like a fine balm. Bravo. mx
Mary, wouldn’t it be
Mary, wouldn’t it be wonderful to meet in whatever beautiful place we choose and to have nothing to do but toss luminous thoughts into the air. Perhaps someday.
I’ll still thrilled by your good news. Mx
Talisman
Breathless beauty Mara - the language flows like feathery snow and falls onto me like a fine balm. Bravo. mx
Not alone
This is such a personal and poignant post, Mara. The week before my brain surgery, I was on the beach at Malibu walking. I was looking for sea shells - there were none. Not pieces. It was as if the beach had been swept clean. I kind of shot up a prayer "I need something - a treasure - that will be a sign, that it will be o.k." I walked about fifteen feet, and thought I saw a rock. I got closer and it was a a turban shell - perfectly formed and pink. It looked like it could sit on a shelf in a curio shop. Until I wrote this, just now, I didn't even realize it was a turban - after surgery my head was bandaged like a turban. I still have the shell. I understand, Mara. Thank you. And thank you for causing me to remember, dear friend.
Reinforcement
Since you read my book, Sharon, you know there are more details to the story of the feather, making it even more eerily similar to your experience with the shell. I hesitated to post this. Now. my friend, I’m so glad I did if it helped you remember your own talisman. You know you are not alone.
Ladies,
You are all amazing to me. Beautiful, strong stories from wise and open-wide minds. Life is a mystery unfolding and you have seen the signs of it. I hope you see and find many more.
Christine
United
How wonderful, Christine, that you addressed your comments to us all, because I too feel that we are united in our experiences, although separated by time and distance. Thank you for recognizing that.Mara
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio...
I firmly believe that these otherworldly experiences are a healthy part of our temporal existence which, by itself, has no answer to anything. To see our daily lives and concerns within an enlarged framework not only enriches us and others, it provides its own natural comfort and helps to keep us humble.
Thanks for sharing this, Mara.
So often
I mumble that quote to myself more often than I care to admit, Rosy. And I do marvel at it all.
Thanks for adding your wise words.
Words fail me, Mara. All I
Words fail me, Mara. All I know is that I am whisked into the moment and feel its power.
I like the way the bare trees grow in a curve toward the yellow flowers of the more upright tree, as though they are cradling each other and the red a slight little bit of pain and openness, but that blue sky, how calming—and the balance that it brings to the moment.
Even stranger, Rebb, is that
Even stranger, Rebb, is that I was chanting ‘eagles eating, eagles eating’ when I suddenly found the feather, an image upon which I had decided only a few minutes previously, having read that when you’re diagnosed with cancer you should envision some outside force battling it for you. I did well to choose eagles. Your analysis of my art is so very sensitive “the red a slight little bit of pain and openness.” That was subconscious, and you are entirely correct. Thanks for always being there.
Vibrating strings..
Could not resist reading this again either, Mara. And once again the strings vibrated for me. Shared experiences make beautiful music as we travel through life's meadows.
What a wonderful comment,
What a wonderful comment, Sue. “Shared experiences make beautiful music as we travel through life’s meadows” And what honest, compassionate friends we have found with whom to share them. Thank you. Those are words to savor.