All The Little Birds

The beauty of this next story still takes my breath away. So gentle. So much care was taken to enfold me within these synchronicities. These stories are not linear. I can’t recall if this happened before or after the Yare fear story. I’d need to consult my journals. Life back then was a blur. The message, however, was consistent.

I was in trauma. Traumatised would definitely be the word. I’d witnessed my step dad have a stroke. We were sat having breakfast together and it struck. Even in that strange and terrible moment there was beauty. He dried my eyes as we waited for the ambulance, caring more for my distress more than his own. Trying to soothe me with words he could no longer speak. It just made me cry even more. He died not long later of an unknown cancer. Two months later my Dad died unexpectedly. I missed seeing him by an hour. A lump appeared in my body that could have been cancerous (but wasn’t) and I lost a baby. My relationship ended which meant I also lost my house. I was reeling. From my step dad dying all of the rest happened within the space of 3 months.

My mum came to visit me. I still remember we went for a coffee. I sat shaking and tearful, not imagining ever being able to feel safe again. I was exhausted. Her words seemed impossible and I told her so. She simply told me to live one day at a time. Don’t worry about the future. Worrying does nothing and it means you live a situation you’re scared of hundreds of times when it may never happen. If it does happen, better to only live it once in real time. I thought it was like asking an Eskimo to avoid snow. I was knee deep and couldn’t imagine feeling any other way. I’d had so many catastrophes hit me, blow after relentless blow, that I was constantly looking out for the next hit. She told me that most people didn’t believe they had the power to choose their thoughts. She believed and lived it. I felt no comfort from her words, just like someone with two broken legs would get no comfort from being told to just get up and walk. As she left the loneliness just increased. I now not only felt broken, I felt weak. Like I was a weak person for crumbling.

A day or two later, whilst walking home from work, I was suddenly aware of bird song. It sounded so loud. I remember wondering if it was always that loud. Had I never noticed before? All the way home the birds were filling my senses. Something niggled at the back of my mind. A scripture mentioned the birds. I’d heard it once but wasn’t sure where in the scriptures it would be.

When I got home I quickly planted a few things before my friend came round for a cuppa. She arrived before I was finished. I was covered in soil so pointed her to the tea cupboard to select what she wanted. She chose a new tea I’d never had before so I asked her to tell me if it was any good. After she left I sat on my bed thinking about the birds again. My ex boyfriend from years ago had brought a load of my stuff round from his attic. Among it was an old bible. I opened it randomly and it fell to a page with a teabag wrapper as a bookmark. Unbelievably it was the tea that my friend had just chosen. The tea I honestly thought I’d never had before. I was sure it was a new variety. What was it doing in the bible? Then I saw it. It was bookmarking the page containing the scripture about the birds. I gasped.

The words echoed what Mum had said. Do not fear and don’t think about tomorrow. Be like the birds who don’t worry or hoard out of fear. They are cared and provided for. It actually said you can’t add anything to your life by worrying. So trust you are utterly loved and be like the birds.

I believed. Suddenly I truly believed but didn’t yet understand.

No person could have convinced me that not worrying was a wise move back then. Worrying was survival tactics. I had no idea how to live out this truth and it didn’t just land on my lap. It took years of taking steps and I’m still nowhere near. I think it’s because I keep falling into other peoples teachings that are always telling me I have to do this to get that. This voice was telling me to deeply rest, even fall into unseen arms.

As I read these words now I understand that somehow, despite the Law of Attraction, despite my role in needing to have faith, I was being told that my Creator is also my Father/Mother. I am to learn how to let go into the vast, immense embrace of a cosmic parent. Instead of worrying how to become a conduit, I can fall into the arms of infinite wisdom, love and power. From a place of security and being known, all manifestations will flow, not the other way around. My soul needed to come home.

I’d seen miracles at the hands of my teacher who had spent years drilling into me that it’s my faith that is the conduit. Doubt stops the flow and there’s nothing God can do about it. My role is key. The world blames God when it’s our fault for not believing. Most people never manifest healing because they don’t know this key. He taught us we have to become faith warriors. He had healed people in wheelchairs. Some were my fellow students at the college. His son had even died, had a toe tag on, and he’d healed him. Crazy stuff. He’s world famous. And then there was little me hearing a different way. Of course I struggled to believe myself over such a spiritual giant.

What this cosmic voice was saying wasn’t disregarding faith. It was attacking fear which breeds doubt. I still aim for miracles. I desire nothing less and I know they are absolutely possible through this human conduit. However, if we take our eyes off the prize and melt into the arms of love, it would seem all connection lies there. Therein is the Oneness. There is home. It’s scary resting when you’ve been taught nothing will happen if you don’t do it. It seems, for me, there is no other way. I simply have to follow this trail.