My alarm didn’t go off, and I had a big presentation to make. I had set it for 6:45 a.m., but clocks in hotels are rarely reliable for me. I’m pretty certain it’s user error.
Regardless, I was sound asleep when I heard the a crow on my balcony. I don’t know how many times it cawed in total, but I know that from the time I opened my eyes until my feet hit the floor, it cawed four times. Once I was up, it flew away.
I believe the crow was there to wake me up. This could be because I watched way too many episodes of The Flintstones when I was a kid (remember Fred’s poor alarm clock?), but my life would suggest otherwise.
Crow magic . . .
I’ve often shared the story of how crows kept me company when I was a sick little girl. Every day that I sat in my backyard for the thirty minutes I was allowed to be outside, they landed on the telephone wire above the back fence and talked their hearts out. When I went inside, they flew off, ready to find me again the next day, at a different time.
But there’s more.
Like the morning I was driving down a highway trying to make a critical decision, and asked God to show me three crows if the answer was “yes.” Don’t worry, God is used to my ridiculous requests. I was almost to my destination when three beautiful crows landed on a fence to my right.
In the house where we presently live, there are three gigantic crows that I see daily. They’re the size of a raven, although their caw is definitely crow.
They are shy, but warned me by cawing their hearts out the day a fox was coming into our yard. I was on the deck with the dog, and although the fox was beautiful, they seemed to know that one fox plus one dog might end badly.
One day my husband and I took a trip to the Pamunkey Indian Reservation which is near our home. I wanted to go since we live on land that used to belong to them and it seemed a few might still be hanging out at our house. I thought I could find some answers.
We had been on the road to the reservation for a couple of miles when my husband said, “Let’s turn around. I have no idea where we are.”
At that exact moment, a crow flew out of the bushes to our right and flew directly in front of the car.
“Follow him, he’ll take us there,” I said.
We followed him and found the museum less than a mile away. My husband looked at me with a mixture of awe and extreme concern.
Maybe I am a witch. . .
If so, I’d sure like to know so I can develop a power other than being able to eat a bag of Lay’s Dill Potato Chips in less than a minute. But if a witch is anyone who can do “magic,” then I think we all qualify.
Magic, to me, is letting go of limitations and boundaries and believing that things exist even if we don’t know they exist. . . yet. Can you imagine being the scientist who attempted to explain an i-watch to someone in the 15th century? It probably wouldn’t have worked out too well for that guy.
Believing in magic is simply believing in what is yet to be discovered, and utilizing intuition.
Nature does it.
Maybe I am more magical than I realize, and the crows know it.
Now if I could just learn to set a hotel alarm clock. . .
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