"When dawn spreads its paintbrush on the plain, spilling purple... ," Songs of the Pioneers song from TV show "Wagon Train." Dawn on the mythic Santa Fe Trail, New Mexico, looking toward Raton from Cimarron. -- Clarkphoto. A curmudgeon's old-fashioned newspaper column, cross-breeding metaphors and journalism and art, for readers in 150 countries.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

The angel had wings

I first saw it out of the corner of my eye...a flicker of movement, and then the distinctive head and beak.
Up it hopped on the porch outside the  huge sliding glass windows, taking its time, completely alert.
Then it jumped up on the wrought iron table just outside those windows, not 10 feet from where we sat, introducing ourselves.
We'd come to a historic home in northern Oklahoma last Saturday morning for a "mindfulness" retreat, which was new for me, but I knew had to do with living in the moment.
And then we we came face to face, were introduced, to a winged messenger, which is by definition an angel, from the world of living in the present. 
I'd never seen a roadrunner up close, and rarely seen one still. They're usually fast and careful to stay near undercover. This one stopped us in our journey for several minutes. It (I don't know the gender) was looking at us through the windows, as we looked back at him in astonishment. 
It may have been looking at its reflection, but our forms could surely be seen beyond the glass. It wasn't spooked, and raised the crown in top of his head a couple of times, changing poses, standing still. Its eyes were piercing. It was noble. 
It's taken me a week to mull the experience and these words over before I could write. We discussed its meaning, and I knew from the outset it was an omen. Later in the day, a colleague and friend Christy Vincent, joked, but seriously, that the messenger, the bird-angel, was appropriate--a roadrunner standing still, taking its time, to a bunch of human roadrunners. Stop and think about it. Look at all the traffic in our hurried world, and how much time you spend in a car, and tell me we're not roadrunners.
Later I described to some as having seen "God." That caused a pause. But if  you believe that god, or great spirit, or universal spirit, or whatever you name eternal life, inhabits all creation, then we came face to face with God, or at least the messenger-angel of the eternal, and it told us to slow down and be mindful of the present--not the past, nor the future.
For the record, we were at Turtle Rock Farm,  (click on this link for more stories) near Billings, in the home of former Oklahoma Governor and U.S. Senator Henry Bellmon. His daughters Pat and Ann operate the farm as a sustainability, spirituality and healing  center. That's another story coming soon. The angel photos are by Pat Hoerth.
Be sure and read Pat's account of the event on their blog, "So There's a Roadrunner on the Table" and her photos of some of us and of the retreat. 
After the five or so minute visitation--time seemed to stand still--it turned, hopped down and disappeared in the green undergrowth. The angel set the tone for the rest of the day.
When you come face to face, perhaps soul to soul, with Present Tense, "I Am that I Am," you remember it forever.

1 comment:

  1. Thanks Terry! It was surely a memorable connection.

    Beauty, Peace,
    Pat

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