Bear has always spoken to me. From childhood piles of stuffed animals which grew into adulthood studies to deepen my understanding of the creature, a lifelong energy has tethered me to this medicine. 
 
A collector’s obsession to family and friends was really an internal seeking for teachers on my part. Each bear related object I gathered told me a different story in a larger narrative. Posters, books, and sculptures made my room into a den. I developed a bed time ritual to carry me to Dreamtime where I could sit with my relations and be filled with their wisdom. 
 
Of course, I had a pendant. I wore it for many years while raising young children. I was the embodiment of a Mama Bear, protecting their choices and encouraging their explorations. I walked the world with thick skin, sharp claws, and a ready growl. I shook off the barbs of the world and maintained my cave to my liking. 

But time flows onward and my bluster turned to determination, then lagged into exhaustion. My winter stores were empty. My fur became faded and patchy. I couldn’t keep organized the baskets of day to night, food or tools, anger or sorrow.  I needed to rest. 
 
So I returned to Bear teachings. I remembered the need for a season of rejuvenation. I reduced my world to vital systems. I reached for the voice deep inside that knew the way to equilibrium and reminded me of myself. I took on the slower lumber of a patient bear picking tiny berries. I yawned widely when in public and went home to sleep. 

Then came a season of recklessness and disconnect. I went beyond the veil of balanced bear and into the realm of near madness. The feral side left a trail of broken things and vague dreaminess. I raced into the woods seeking any burrow to contain my angst and hide it from myself. Somewhere in the forest must be a doorway to the underworld where I could disappear.  But that is a harsh futility to chase.

One winter day as the snow receded, I smelled Bear.  I hunkered against a tree and heard Bear. In the wild place of my soul, I knew a meeting was in store.  I felt the shift coming and I would either remain disheveled, falling deeper into the chasm of despair or I would smooth my pelt and return fully to my cubs. 
 
Several times in the coming weeks I chased up Bear in the woods. I wasn’t tracking necessarily, but I sat by the waterhole where he would visit. I followed the deer trails where his signs were displayed. Mostly, it was the lingering smell that coaxed me out of my stupor and into fresh awareness that healing had taken place despite my avoidance. 

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​Then there was a frightening episode involving one of my children. Sparing the details, I can say it worked out well enough but, during that strange night of discovery and crisis control, I spent time howling in the forest like the wounded animal I had become. My ache was finally shaken loose and released to the dark in sounds humans rarely make. 
 
But Bear heard me. 
 
I’m not certain anymore how many days between that night and his visit, but it wasn’t long before I woke in the predawn hours to the sound of digging in my garden. I heard the pallets of my compost pile moving around. The breath caught in my throat when he snuffed and sneezed less than ten feet from my window, which was open a crack to let in spring air. 
 
In an instant, all the years of teachings flew together in my heart. I watched his furry shoulders work at the stones around the garden as he searched for snacks. I smiled when he crunched the freshly thawed lobster shells from our discarded New Years feast. I snuck to the back door for a better view. As I pushed aside the curtain as silently as possible, he of course heard me anyway. Our eyes met and with a final swipe at the meager garden findings, he lumbered towards the woods, pausing to scratch an ear with his teenaged paw. 
 
I have lived most aspects of Bear now from a naive cub to a seasoned mother.  I watch my offspring fledge and look forward to the gentle years of crochet and music in my now quiet home. The sleepy groan of comfort is not far from me these days and I am grateful. But the hot breath of a dangerous bite lingers on my neck too. 
 
Bear invites us to the mystical spaces within a soul. These are the places where Dreams and Truths wait. Only in eating the divine honey will we accept our inner most knowing and be able to reclaim ourselves. Whether I am roaring in defense or sadness, digging for food or shelter, settling in for contemplation or work, I know the strength of this beast is beside me. 
 
I enjoy the cozy heartbeat when I have lost my song.  I borrow the tough walking shoes to keep moving forward. I stand with generations of Bear knowledge ready to embrace the lessons I must learn. I walk with Bear to remain solid in my faith. I listen to know when I need a drink of dreaming from the Cave.
 
To everything there is a season and Bear guides me through them all. 

I am not much of a swimmer. Despite childhood beliefs that I was a mermaid, being underwater still makes me squeamish. I can manage quick summer dashes into the barely warmed lake on the one blistering day we have in a season. Otherwise, I’m a an ankle deep hovering person looking for shells. 
 
Until I dreamt of whales. 
 
I struggled out of sleep that morning, literally gasping for air, knowing I was too dizzy to open my eyes.  The swirling in my head matched the ache in my guts and I was certain I’d be sick. I waited for the adrenaline chill to pass and tried to breathe myself into a calm place. Somewhere in there I remembered I had a heartbeat and with relief found that the constant thump finally settled my being. 
 
Then I heard the whale song. 
 
In this vague in between state I felt vibrations, recognized the squealing tones, and relaxed into a heaviness of body I can only explain as shape shifting. 
 
The song told me of ancient things. It reminded me of our watery beginnings. I marveled in the way the ocean held my body.  I danced in bubbles and watched schools of fish flashing. I asked what my whale body needed to do and the answer was immediate. “Swim far. Escape.”
 
I rose up into the starlit sky and knew that these whales were trapped. They had become misdirected somehow, hence the dizziness. I felt they were growing weak with hunger, echoed in my guts. They were having trouble reaching a small air hole in the ice. I shivered knowing my lungs had felt their anguish. 
 
I prayed for them then. I called to my universal supports to guide them. I gathered reiki energy and did my best to find an astral map that would show them the way out. I extricated myself from the meld and carried the sorrow into my day. 

​Of course, I researched it and found a report of dozens stranded in arctic ice that had been discovered during the night. Over the next few days, the news showed efforts and eventually they were freed. 

​I wasted no time getting to our local jewelry shop to purchase a bone pendant of a whale. I have worn various totems since high school. I had been without one for some time waiting for my next teacher. 
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Over the next years while wearing that piece, I came to a deep level of peace and understanding about the songs we hold in our souls. I learned to listen again. I practiced making tones and yes, I went swimming. I allowed myself to connect on every level imaginable to this majestic creature. I healed far back and far forward. I gathered lessons about motherhood and community. I stretched myself into telepathy and resonant echolocation. 
 
Many people commented on the necklace. I’d just say it helped to keep me afloat. In all this knowing, my story mixes with others like raindrops becoming a cloud. My joining with the whales showed me how to cascade onto beaches and tumble down mountain streams both as a molecule and a torrent. 
 
I am surrounded by ocean on this island. I shout a hello to the whales almost every day from the shore. I refuse to pester them on big boats for a few pictures. I’ve moved onto different lessons these days but the abundance of wisdom, acceptance, forgiveness, and music received from whales forever changed me. 

Maine has a lot of wildlife. Every day I see and hear messages. In trying to organize a story about one animal, I’ve opened a library of details in myself. Suffice it to say, I’ve seen a lot of seals, deer, coyote, frogs, and squirrels. I have a moose story, a bear story, and two about the falcon. 
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​I wasn’t sure I could narrow down a lesson from Eagles. I see them over the harbor fishing. They sit in the trees ignoring how the wind ruffles their feathers. They soar high in groups, circling and crying on crisp winter days, when there’s no warmth in the sunlight. 
 
Today was a day like that and I filed my taxes. It’s a burden of a process for many but I have endeavored to treat it as a holiday. I figure finding joy in that tax return will allow the inflow to continue. So for me it’s renewal. It’s knowing winter is passing, seeds are being planted soon, and I will continue. It’s no coincidence that tax season starts with Imbolc. 
 
I work hard year after year, trusting and leaping towards long haul plans. I suffer impatience watching seasons turn, while I’m just laying down the path. Could we get there already? 
 
But no. And in finally being ok with that part of the cycle I am filled with gratitude, when the shift emerges at last! Today was that day. 
 
I drove home from the appointment debating which of my projects could now get attention. I talked to myself in the car. The music was going. I felt the tingles come up my neck as an idea solidified. 
 
That’s when I saw the eagle. It came over the trees along the right side of the road towards me. It was so low, I could see its eyes. Of course I stopped. 

It hovered, tilted and went over and behind me. It circled back and flew above me again as the car started to roll. I’d flung the window down and whistled up at the creature. We flew together for a few seconds and it kited off over a field. 
 
Yes, I see them all the time, but for it to be today in a moment of joyful realization? That is Magic. 
That is when I know Spirit is real. 
 
It reminds me of the interconnected nature of all things, down to the microscopic level and intangible qualities of energy; things like love. 
 
I hadn’t specifically connected with eagles in a while, but just this week I felt for my path to that moment. I asked for an experience, prayed for a song and just like that, one flies over me. Flies over at a moment, when my vibe was elevated to a place, where we could communicate. We could be in the same space at the same time. 
 
Next week when I’m sighing and chewing my lip again, I will remember this. I will feel the awe of making eye contact with an eagle. I will think of how soft the feathers must be. I will thank it for nodding at me and casting its spell of grace into my day. 
 
I carry deep reverence for these beings, for these interactions, and for my duty to receive the gifts they bring. Today is a day, when the kaleidoscope coalesces and the way forward is allowed. 
 
A’ho.