Well, now I'm up. (A relief to be out of all the stressful dreams, relentlessly about CHOICES, pressure, hurry, running out of time...) No solid information after all about visitors, so - that helpful piece to house-hunting is gone again.
Unclasping my seashell pendant, reorganize it to hang in a straight line with the heavy shell where a crystal pointer usually is.
(No, this is not Dark Magic, it's not even as interesting as it seems when you first hear of it.) Better use the ipod to help me concentrate (vs. cat/bird shrieking & the last thumping large drops of rain.)
Test questions (standard starting point): what is Yes and what is No? (I don't know what I'm doing! but keep going.)
Focus on the 2 houses: hold the picture of one in your mind (I can hear the instructor's voice, simple, calm directions) and ask "is this the right house for me?" Vague.
Picture the other house.... = Response. Really.
Okay- deep breath- (ever the logical researcher): now we need to duplicate the results to confirm the outcome.
(That's not part of the class. That's just me. This may be the less "Groovy & Intuitive/ Let it Flow" aspect of my brain but if the goal is to accept who you really are, the various sides of yourself, shouldn't I equally honor the "Data Before Incense" kind of girl that I am?)
In a variety of ways the pendulum reads that the "Jungle House" is best f or me - for learning & growth, natural remedies and plant medicine. I even ask if I'm meant to stay and learn through July: Yes. August: Yes.
(Then I stop asking.) (It's not for divining the future anyway and besides, I'm not HarryBloodyPotter.)
By now it's almost 5am - grey light is coming in at the roof line where there is a gap between the top of the wall and the corrugated metal. Taking off the ipod, I hear the strangest, most amazing (if not melodic) bird call. It might be two birds but it's one type: notes rising and falling but with a goose-like honk. Must be a good size to make such an awkward noise. (I mean: gosh, lovely, natural song from one of God's creatures.)
He or they are in the field on the other side of the hedge just outside. I push my big wooden door open enough to step out but stay behind it so they don't spot me and rush off. (Picture jolly pink plaid pajama pants - yes, from my fancy Target collection, don't judge. I love them but camouflage they aint.) To my left, on the stepping stones, are two cats, clearly out for the kill. One has "treed" something in a shrub -- another green snake?-- and is staring, frozen. The other is just shopping the area...
Through the hedge, off to the right the goose-bird sound goes on and even seems to get closer! The hedge is so thick that I only have one hole through the leaves, they will have to go right past it if I'm going to see what they look like. But the noise is definitely moving toward me ... Great! hunch down, hands on knees, peering through leaves at tall, empty grass in the neighboring field when: around my very door, onto my little square of patio comes walking that chicken-legged pheasant! With his goofy, reaching, long, chicken legs and bouncing jive step.
He gets around the door & looks up at me, just at the moment I realize the distant action I'm crouching and squinting to see is now AT my knee-cap.
My eyebrows shoot up! His eyebrows (essentially) shoot up - we share a cartoon-esque ZOINKS! "Oh My! You're RIGHT THERE!" and he turns to do a groove-hasty-hustle back to the forested backyard.
He could have moved faster or with more fear; I've seen him some mornings in a serious hurry, this wasn't it. So, that's good; maybe he's a little bit used to seeing me in the garden every day.
There's another hallway that opens to the back yard, I go peep around the back wall: two sleek blue chicken guys are gingerly poking long legs through overgrown weeds and whatnot. They're together, probably mates but no more calling/singing. They've seen me "that giant pink-madras legged thing" they're thinking, and got spooked. I watch them for a few minutes with their long crescent moon beaks, beautiful green-blue/black feathers that melt right into the ground cover. When they spot me again, they head around the other way by my bedroom door Step -- Step-- Step-- . Oh No!
Did I just herd them toward the lurking cats? How awful would that be! Rush back around to the patio:
2 cats, no jungle chickens.
Phew! Relieved and apologetic, I return to my usual 5am book & journal routine. And try not to ruin the local wildlife.
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