I returned from Italy facing the daunting task of moving my household in the next three days.  It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.  The sale of my house was going well until it wasn’t.  At the end of April I had all my ducks in a row.  Based upon contractual requirements I planned to move to an apartment pre-closing as the sale was contracted to close before I flew to Tuscany.  But, not so fast said the universe.  As we all know the best laid plans of mice and women sometimes go astray.  After much angst and frustration, the sale did close.  But, with no time to move before my trip.

I went to Italy.  I came back to the US.  Fighting a head cold and jet lag I moved into my apartment.  Forget unpacking.  I slept for the next week.

I awoke one morning to find Chanel and Carmen glued to the patio slider, their tails sticking out from under the vertical blinds.  As I twisted the wand opening the blinds I couldn’t believe what I saw.  A band of four fat turkeys grazed in my backyard.  Because of my movement they stood like statues for a moment, one grouching in the tall grasses and wildflowers to hide herself.  As much as I wanted to dash for my phone to snap a photo I stood rigidly still myself.  Satisfied there was no threat the turkeys resumed bobbing their heads as they moved across the embankment nibbling seeds until they disappeared into the trees lining the crest.  One stopped for an instant looking back at the apartments as if gauging the safety of the environment, then disappeared with the others.

WOW!!!

My apartment, which is more like a one story condo, backs to a hill.  This hill is the main reason I chose this particular apartment.  Instead of attempting to mow it or put up a retaining wall, the developer had the presence of mind to plant the steep bank with wild grasses, clover, daisies and other wildflowers.  Mature trees were left on the ridge, another feature attractive to wildlife and humans alike.

Rummaging through a couple of boxes marked “books” I found my Pocket Guide To Spirit Animals by Dr. Steven Farmer, a psychotherapist, international lecturer, ordained minister, shamanic practitioner and best-selling author.  The property manager told me about turkey sightings.  Now, I wanted to explore if there was any spiritual meaning to my sighting.  Considering we are located not five minutes from every store imaginable with busy roads and snarled traffic, actually seeing turkeys in my backyard was a welcome treat.  They were also a reminder of how we had turkeys quite often on our South Carolina property as well as the property I just sold.  Martin produced paintings of turkeys along with a whimsical carving I bring out every fall.  I opened Farmer’s book to see what this visit by the turkeys may mean in a spiritual sense. Just seeing them had lifted my spirits.

As Farmer reminds us, “Those spirits that are in animal form that teach us, guide us, empower us and help us heal are called animal spirit guides or spirit animals.”  This has been known to indigenous cultures for centuries.  As Benjamin Hoff wrote in The Tao of Pooh, “Lots of people talk to animals…Not very many listen though…That’s the problem.”  As I flipped the pages to the meaning of the turkey sighting I was ready to listen.  Or so I thought.

As I read about how “It’s important to transcend the focus on your needs to consider the greater needs of the whole, such as your family, community, or world”  I felt a flush of skepticism.  I had spent years attending to Martin’s needs.  Didn’t I deserve to focus on my needs?  Then, “you’re about to receive a gift of some sort” and “perform some act that honors the earth” and “volunteer your time”.  Geez.  I closed the book not sure if I was ready to focus on someone else’s needs or volunteer my time again. I would accept any gift, large or small, with grace. I planted pots of herbs, flowers and small trees around my patio with the intention of giving them a permanent home when the house was built.

As the turkeys continued to come and go entertaining the cats and causing questions about my future to roil in my brain, I went onto the patio one day to eat lunch.  I sat down before I noticed an upright furry brown figure, paws together as if in prayer, chewing down some food – a groundhog.  As I eyed him or her, they eyed me back.  They stopped chewing, turned, waddled up the bank and disappeared into the trees.  I fetched the guide.

I liked the message of the groundhog better than the message of the turkeys.  The line that jumped out at me was, “You’re going through an initiation, one where you will experience a cycle of death-rebirth, and emerge with a new sense of self.”  Then, there was the portent of investigating a new area of study apparently requiring a lot of work on my part, but worth it in the end.  Following this, “pay close attention to your dreams at this time and see if you can discern their meaning.”

Suddenly, an epiphany.  As a normal part of the grief process my dreams often involve Martin being with me.  They are sometimes so real I think he is still in bed beside me.  Yes, I am going through an initiation of being on my own, my rebirth after his death and there is a new sense of self, especially after going to Italy on my own.  Turkeys were always Martin’s lure.  According to the guide they would be Martin’s spirit animal.  Wherever we lived, he was always drawn to the flocks of wild turkeys.  Perhaps their message is from him telling me it is ok to focus on my needs, which for me include engaging with family and community.  Perhaps the gift is knowing it’s normal for me to focus on other people, to volunteer again, to let go of the grief, to be a regular person enjoying time with our family and going out into the community.  I thought about the Master Gardener Program where I spent many enjoyable hours in South Carolina learning and teaching others about gardening. Training to re-enter the program in Michigan was something both satisfying for me and worthwhile for the community and world. I decided to accept my interpretation of the animal spirits as it was the only one I had.

Now, about that little black squirrel who dashes over the bank each morning…