A thunderous crash followed by echoes of talons scraping across my metal roof quickly grabs my attention as I move hastily towards my front door to investigate further as the noise grows louder. I reach for the handle and fling the door open, as I cross the threshold a massive raven reveals itself, swooping down off the roof in a downward fashion right in front of me, the raven’s wings at full extension, he comes out of the dive and lifts majestically upward into the sky and then off into the horizon. The raven's appearance is impeccable, as it comes just days after I completed my first poem about the raven, his reveal was as if he was answering my call, offering me assurance and guidance to keep following the omens of my fate, Until we meet again raven, until we meet again.
Several weeks later on a warm summer morning I venture to the desert on a quest to discover relics of the past, a search for unmapped petroglyphs that I often carry out in my spare time. As I am hiking through the sparse land, I spot a tremendous rock face, seventy to eighty meters in height of sheer vertical sandstone cliffs atop a mount of red desert soil, I feel the draw immediately and change my original course, dead reckoning straight to the cliffs of intrigue. As I climb up the hilly terrain with eagerness, hoping to discover another uncharted petroglyph, I discover something else waiting for me at the base of the sandstone, a large raven, black as night, appears perched before me right at the foot of where two gigantic slaps of sandstone come together, the raven sits in his gaze and welcomes me inward. He does not appear to be startled by my presence; it is as if he has been expecting me, he offers a single gurgling croak as I grow closer. I verbally greet the raven back as I slowly approach until I get within conversational distance before I halt my advancement. I stand in awe and amazement in the now of the close, peaceful and serene encounter. Ten minutes or more pass by as I reflect on the creature's beauty and his message. I am surprised by his lack of defense as I have encroached upon his territory. I thank him for this experience and depart. As I return down the hill I spot a single raven feather, a gift from the messenger, I gladly accept and place the feather into my kit bag.
The materialist might criticize these synchronistic events, dismissing them as attributes of the frequency illusion (Red Car Theory) and I fully understand the neuroscience and agree that the brain takes in a lot more information than what is filtered into our immediate perception, however this is not red car theory, there is no raven’s nest on my roof and this certainly was not an everyday occurrence, and as far as my close encounter, this also defies nature, the human being a predatory animal should scare off such an animal in its nest, Finally, the timing, in recent months of discovering more of my Celtic roots and learning about the raven that lead to the poem and then bringing in these experiences into reality defies the logos of what society propagates. To the materialist I say, continue to indulge in your egoic driven limited beliefs and deny the possibility of magic in your life, however I will remain open to a world of possibilities and stand in defiance to the mundane reality you try so foolishly to create for the collective.
To the raven I will continue to lift my gaze to the heavens, trust the omens and rise! Until we meet again my dear friend, until we meet again...
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