In my cozy bed of bird blankets, pillow pets and the most loyal and concerned boxer-pup draped at my restless feet, I am sipping on marshmallow root and liquorish tea, hoping the soothing elixir will expel the infection from my lungs and return me the voice I lost 3 days ago. In lue of all the surgical procedures, my immune system is shot to say the least. It was already desperately overwhelmed and compromised, probably the invitation that brought the gift of cancer on in the first place. Not being able to speak has turned out to be just what the shaman ordered. Like the cancer, it’s not a bad thing, it is an opportunity to pay attention, an opportunity to say less and feel more, and most importantly it is an opportunity to listen to the messages of spirit that silently speak to us everyday, all day, without words or voice.
How does spirit speak, you ask? In infinite ways. Sometimes its grand like the sudden explosion of the monsoon, sometimes it’s subtle like the night flower’s bloom. It’s the power behind all those déjà vu’s, and the mystery guiding serendipitous ‘coincidences’, it’s looking at the clock precisely as it turns to those three synchronized numbers: 1:11, 5:55, 3:33. It’s singing and chanting for rain, and then dancing beneath it as the sky opens up and showers you with abundance, renewal and fertility. It is the manifestation of your meditation and heart expressed intentions. Spirit speaks as your lay in the grass sharing stories of your grandparents and then in the foreground of the sky you see two butterflies engaged in a charming courtship of flutter. Spirit speaks when you sit atop the mountain and the birds mysteriously surround you from each direction as if they are there to remind you or your own wings. It is when you feel passionately; wisely, speechlessly connected to someone you just met, but feel in your soul that it is a reunion. When with these people, time evaporates and your stories of life unfold without hesitation. These people, by the way, are not to be lost; whether lover or friend, the ones who shift you at your core like the magma of the volcano, don’t let them go, no matter what.
Spirit listens to you, it knows you and will deliver you its messages and gifts, have faith and trust them. These gifts will not always be clear, or pretty, or easy to interpret, but they are there none-the less. Take for instance:
When I was about 7 years old, I watched a dear cousin and aunt pass away from cancer. I remember thinking, “I wonder if I will get cancer, if I do, I will be 33.” Last year on the night of my 33rd birthday I had a dream, or vision, where 3 ancient, full-breasted owls came to me. They told me that this would be a year of death. I had the same exact vision the following 3 nights and the following 3 meditations. 3 months later we entered the year of the auspicious feminine 13. 2013, has indeed, proved to be a time of death in a symbolic sense. I have experienced the death of many ego layers, and the death of toxic samskara/patterns, and now I embark on the death of all those old, unhealthy cells preventing me from living to my fullest potential. Interestingly enough, my diagnosis came 3 months prior to my 34th birthday, and interesting enough, last night, the 3rd night without a voice, as I sat in meditation listening, the 3 owls retuned. I humbly and patiently waited for them to speak, but they said nothing, their silent arrival was enough.
Aho, blessings and Namaste,
Robin Afinowich
It is the nature of spirit to speak in all ways and when we quiet ourselves, we can listen.
