Tag: spirits

Redbird

I was 25, and I was going through a hard time in my life. I faced waves of agitation and depression, flashbacks, a relationship in flux — and a persistent feeling that there were evil influences lurking in my life. The latter may have been the fact that my bipolar was not at that time treated, or it could have been that I believed in those things at the time. Or those could have been one and the same.

One day, I was in a neighborhood in Champaign I hadn’t been in before — it was a sleepy boulevard, complete with mini-park tucked into the median. I had gone there because I had a bad crush on someone even as my maybe-boyfriend gave me mixed signals — and I wanted to see where he lived. (I don’t think I ever devolved to the point of being a stalker, but I worried about it some nights.)
I was sitting on the bench in the mini-park, watching the occasional car drive laconically by, and suddenly I felt a feeling of dread, ominous dread, blossom from my stomach through my body. Something bad was going to happen — I could imagine the strains of foreboding music in the background.
And then a cardinal called. I looked up, and he sat on a phone line directly above me, flame red and stalwart. I felt a flush of calm pass through me. He launched himself in the air and landed on a tree branch a few feet away, then stayed there. I followed him there, and this dance continued until I was away from the boulevard. 
I was safe.
**********
Almost thirty years later, I don’t know what to make of this still. Yes, the feeling of foreboding may have been from the tricks that bipolar plays with the body. Remember as well that mania triggers the religious/mystical elements of the brain. 
But the bird was real. Whether it was a cardinal acting peculiarly or a flame-feathered spirit guiding me to safety, I will never know. I will not pretend to know — there is no certainty in mysticism. But there is one more story:
During that same time period, I left a party because I felt like I was barely holding myself together inside a great glass bubble that distanced me from everyone. My heart was breaking, and at the same time, I was afraid that I would be taken advantage of by someone or something malign if I opened up. A friend of mine walked me home from the party to protect me from what I felt was out there (Scott May, if you’re reading this, thank you. I never appreciated you enough).
I got home and was lying in bed shivering and hugging myself. All of a sudden, I heard a commotion just outside the window and saw a cardinal, male and shining red against the lowering clouds, fighting a starling with its black, speckled wings. 
I heard a voice in my mind: “Do I have to knock you out to help you?”
“Yes,” I thought back.
I instantly fell asleep.
*******
I have to wait for dreams now to have these experiences, possibly because of the medication, possibly because of the fact that I’m older and busier and not accustomed to living between worlds anymore. I don’t know what the “real” interpretation is, but the belief that the redbird was a kind spirit that protected me against malign forces makes for a better story.

First Snow Lives On.

My husband read my passage on First Snow yesterday, and he asked a lot of questions:

  • “Did you get this ritual from somewhere?”  I believe I invented it in December of 1984. There are friends of mine who now have their own rituals. Sometimes they post on Facebook and tell me they miss me. I miss them too.
  • “Do you celebrate it every year?” I’ve missed a lot of years. One time I was in the hospital and missed it. Some years we don’t get snow in November and December, and it seems too late if the first snow happens in February. 
  • “What are the rules?” Funny you should ask:
    • There has to be enough snow expected to cover the grass outside — at least one inch.
    • You need one person minimum, and there’s no set maximum.  However, as you can’t plan ahead of time, the number of participants is limited by who’s available. It’s harder to have guests as you get older or live in a small town.
    • You can either sit in the snow and cold, or bring a bowl of snow inside. 
    • Participant(s) will toast with a beverage associated with wintertime. This includes, but is not limited to, eggnog, hot mulled cider, mulled wine, wassail, brandy, or blackberry brandy.  Regardless of how many participants, there’s only one cup.You can fill the mug more than once.  It’s a ritual; we don’t care about germs.
    • The cup is passed around in a circle. Each participant takes a sip of it and proposes a toast. The first toast is always “To the snow”. The last toast is usually very silly, as all the important things have been toasted to earlier. They get sillier more quickly if the mug contains an alcohol-based fortifying beverage.
    • The toasting ends when all the beverage is gone or all have run out of ideas for toasts. Or frozen to death.
Over the years, I’ve collected stories around First Snow. There was the year (ah! my college days!) when three of us decided to sit on the Old Stone Bridge in Champaign, a small arch over a creek, toasting the First Snow with a mug of blackberry brandy, swathed in an old sleeping bag — and in violation of park rules twice over, with the alcohol and the lateness of the hour. And then the cop showed up. I piped up and told him we were celebrating the first snow and this was hot cider. I babbled out the whole ritual to him. The cop looked down, likely incredulous, and instructed us to finish quickly. It makes me sad to think that if we had not been white college students, it could have ended badly.
The best toast ever was made by Jon Jay Obermark, on a balcony that bravely held eight people and a mug of cheap brandy (E&J, what else?). “To that star up there … and that star there … and that star over there!”
********
It turns out there will be a snow tonight in Maryville. A first snow for the season. 
Richard and I will bring in a bowl of snow as the honored guest, and drink a mug of Irish coffee, my only alcohol for the year. Outside, darkness will press on the windows, and in the First Snow ritual, we will find the light in fellowship. The first toast we will drink will be to the snow; the second, to the people from our past and present, scattered all over the world.
“Through the years, we all will be together, 
if the fates allow … “