Walking. With a Sign?

Posted on by Live & Learn

Can you find the Canada Goose in the shot above? I’ll wait until you find it. Yes, there. The speck, bottom right. Hold that thought.

It’s Thursday, 1514 consecutive (almost) days on this morning daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.

I step into the park. It’s dark.

I walk.

I’ve had a flurry of chatter around me about Signs.

They see signs in the spotting of Cardinals, Blue Jays, Feathers, Hearts, Sparrows, Robins, and even Moths.

Don’t you see it DK? There!

I’ve grown up. (A little.) I stare quietly, body language not giving anything up, offering a look of contemplation. The thought process having evolved from “are you kidding me, you don’t really believe that, do you? aka George Carlin style: Religion: A Bullshit Story.

I see, I mean I feel with these gentle Signs that they See, they Feel temporary relief from grief, from unbearable loss.

Paul Lynch’s “grief feeding on the marrow in her bones” or

Amy Lin’s: “the pain has to lessen…one way or another, I need a path toward less.”

Or, Camille Rankine’s: “The grief is a planet. A dust ring. A small moon that’s been hidden under my pillow, that’s been changing the way my body moves this whole time.”

And yet, when the pack is going this way, and I’m standing alone heading the other way, it always turns back to me. It has to be me. It has to be some sprocket or cell seeing-feeling deficiency.

Why don’t you have any…see any…Signs?

I walk.

I come to the dam, and in the shadows along the shoreline is a Canada Goose.

Alone.

So alone.

As I watch her, I can feel Something — Something pulling me along. This solo-goose-feeling-thing is not a new thing, it was first explored in Walking. Finding Sacrosanct. The sight of her, so solitary, triggers Something. Lori, please, help me here. I want to say ‘Arresting.’

I stood there a while watching her, wondering what this Thing is that has swept me along.

I let her go, leaving her behind.

I walk.

I get home. I’m shuffling through the morning’s photos. During my walk, I saw the Goose two times, once in the initial spotting early on, and then at the finish line in the photo above.

And yet, as I pan through the photos, my pulse slows. I pan through the entire series again.

I see her there, and there, and there, and there, and there and there — she was in so many photos, and I didn’t See her.

She was with me the entire walk around the park.

This Messenger to where, and for what?

Jesus in Matthew 13:10–17, “Seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear.”

29 thoughts on “Walking. With a Sign?”

      1. Oh man. Does it ever. I coloured in colouring books for hours after Mick died. That and took super long walks (no matter how cold) with Zeke while taking scads of photos. Thank goodness for photography – I do feel creative there. Cooking as well, but less so for one.

        Rainn Wilson’s:
        “When you’re alone with a canvas or a blank screen, the world and its bristles and burs fades away. There’s a new universe and you, the artist, are its divine fashioner. When in this creative mode, anxiety disappears and a new set of rules unfolds.”
        How true is that… Maybe I should take up painting – I have zero talent or knowledge but maybe just splashing paint on paper will take me out of my funk.

          1. I will! I have all the stuff I need – in my desire to find my creativity, I have spent oodles on various mediums, only to watch them sit there. Waiting.

  2. The world we live in wouldn’t have its safe spots if Sentinels were tuned to the frequency of signs.

      1. The universe speaks signs to those who speak signs. You must speak a different language.
        My best guess, the universe speaks Awe language to you. You’re very fluent in Awe.

        😉
        Which means you’ll always need a translator!

          1. Yours truly was a top sales person at some point. Service oriented, not numbers oriented. The numbers always come.

  3. I am proudly part of they. I won’t say anything more other than…. your eyes and heart are now open <3. Can you see it?

  5. So poignant and beautiful. Pausing and reflecting. Everything is connected. You and this goose.
    A transition time perhaps for both of you. Or simply a man who takes time to really notice and be present to the amazing natural world.
    I’ve always been aware of single geese … perhaps through your blog DK.
    Funny thing is, I’ve noticed that most find a partner for the next season. 🙏🏻

  6. Dave, Your unfolding, environment brings forth dynamic moments in the circle of life – you are part of it all…witness to awe inspired, wonder, beauty and as you are immersed in this there are times when you feel the electricity in the air that travels into your heart…you sense a distress…She, the Canada Goose is where she searches for those like her or other(s) you & birds who might notice Her distress…and even-though there was nothing to be done…she felt the other birds and your presence – as she is awash with pronounced, grief…

    and your words: “see any…Signs?” You felt those signs…

    and you feeling blind – remembered some shares of you in which the situation for others was Blindness and they learned so much for being Blind – one temporary (3 months) and the other two, each lost sight in one eye. Sometimes we See With Our Heart…

    https://davidkanigan.com/?s=+Tatyana+Tolstaya&orderby=relevance&order=DESC

    I noticed an article about grandfather Aleksey Tolstoy, today & wondered about your share Tatyana Tolstaya – I read it again and it still leaves an Impact…it brought to mind another of your shares, this one of , Howard Axelrod’s book,  The Point of Vanishing…

    https://davidkanigan.com/?s=Howard+Axelrod&orderby=relevance&order=DESC

    and Frank Bruni, book: The Beauty of Dusk: On Vision Lost and Found Hardcover

    My Comfort to you

    https://davidkanigan.com/2022/02/28/monday-morning-wake-up-call-287/

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