Signs
A few days after Hunter died I was sitting in our backyard in the early morning, writing and crying and staring into space in shock. I heard a hummingbird approach and stilled my hands on the keyboard. She flew within five inches of my face to get my attention, then circled my head three times and paused as if to say "did you get it? I'm right here" and then flew off.
The next day I was in the same place staring at our fountain which has three bowls, each larger than the next, that water cascades into. A hummingbird landed on the second tier and in a strange bathing ritual, dunked her head, shook it a bit then hopped to the right and did it again. She did this over and over until she returned to where she started. I've never seen anything like it before or since.
These moments felt both magical and mystical and I could not help but feel momentary relief from my suffering. I experienced a sense of presence, a reminder that in these slices of magic there is no time, there is only this one moment.
When friends offered their home in Key West just a month after burying Hunter, getting through the excruciating week of sitting Shiva, surviving the apocalyptic days of wildfires encroaching and our air quality going from horrible to unbearable, we fled Portland. The airports and planes were desolate and perfect for how we were feeling. As we approached the Florida Keys there, out my window, was a rainbow going from one huge cumulus cloud to the next, 30,000 feet in the air! I smiled, took a picture and felt comforted -- I mean, have you ever seen a rainbow in the clouds before? For me it was confirmation of the connection between beauty, mystery, living, dying and learning to hold all of it within this one, flawed yet perfect body and spirit.
Then one morning while in Florida I hopped on the Vespa and headed to the beach at dawn, loving the humid warmth on my skin, the freedom of driving through the deserted town. As I neared the beach it started to rain, hard. I felt this nudge-- wrong beach! go south. So, I took a right turn and headed south. The rain immediately stopped. I started down a road for the next beach and the rain started up again. Ummmm, guess this too is the wrong beach. I changed direction and headed to the state park at the southern most tip of the island-- rain lifted. Just as I walked onto the beach I saw, to the north, a perfect double rainbow. Ah! this was where you were taking me!
The next day I decided to walk the quiet streets alone to practice listening. It's hard to decipher an inner nudge, and it's even easier to discount it as something you are just making up, that is, until the synchronicities begin to happen. On this day I was wandering up and down the narrow streets. A strong nudge said, "Left! Go left." I turned the corner and there, on the sidewalk, was the splitting image of Hunter's cat, an unusual grey siamese. Unlike his cat (he went psycho on us and I still have scars to prove it), this cat approached me, rubbed against my legs and then flopped over and asked for a belly rub. After ten minutes I stood up to go but he wouldn't have it, and followed me, flopping down again in front of my feet, which made me laugh out loud. A moment of grace. Of divine intervention. Of connection and attention and love.