A bird flew in the house

I can remember the feeling of being at the end. The frantic desire to find a way to close this chapter so I can release all the pain. I was tired, like most people get after feeling that nothing was going to get better. I remember being in a dark room, covers pulled over my head like a child and wishing with all my heart that everything would just stop. I didn’t want to go forward anymore, to make new decisions and have more pain to reflect on. I had a bottle of morphine from a recent surgery and it was so easy to pop the lid off and spill the tiny pills into my open palm. I felt hatred when I thought of my life and the part I played in it. My roles weren’t my own, they didn’t fit and I didn’t want to wear them anymore. I wasn’t what had happened to me, the abuse, trauma and complete loss of large pieces of myself were no longer companions I wanted to have. I had been trying so hard to find the spark, to get in touch with that light that I knew was there no matter my state of mind but it was under the thick layers of loss. I identified with being depressed, with being suicidal.

In that moment, I wasn’t thinking of my family or my friends, the people I still loved. I was thinking of the ledge and the abyss beyond it. I had a lot of ideas about the afterlife and I still do but while they feel solid in my mind, a tremendous gap exists between life and death. The decision loomed day in and day out for so long until I ended up in that bedroom with the bottle in my hands. There had been many times I had come close, but something always kept me from the end. I knew that death was not permanent in a sense. Everything is interconnected. Cycles continue and I came to this life to learn certain lessons, to interpret my experiences and understand on a soul level. I came for expansion. I also knew that suicide was not evil, there were no forces that would punish me for taking my own life and make me burn in a bottomless pit of fire and brimstone. The suffering happens on earth; I was very cognizant of the pain I would cause by leaving in this way but I couldn’t stay for others if it meant enduring the battle every day.

Obviously, I am still here. I didn’t take those pills then or any time after. I didn’t abandon my body in hopes of releasing the pain and removing myself from the stories that no longer served me. I sat in that room and then a bird flew in the house. There had been another time that I had been on the ledge. I was 22 years old sitting in front of a broken mirror, staring at all the shards and their warped reflections. I had sleeping pills and I took them. I ended up in the hospital with my stomach pumped and feeling more present than I had felt in a long time. It was eye opening, life altering. Before taking a major turn and uprooting my life for a few months, I got a tattoo on both my wrists. Birds with open wings mid-flight. They represented freedom and were meant to remind me that there is always a choice, hope for a different type of journey. Every time I have waded deep into the waters of depression; I have felt like I was in a very tightly confined cage. The cage was made up of the past and my ideas about what the future was sure to be like. The birds were there floating on my wrists and I could look at them every day, they would be my guides and keep me focused on my innate freedom.

That day in the room, a bird flew in the house. It was the middle of winter, cold and monochrome outside. My partner opened the door and it flew right in. I could hear him from the bedroom, calling me because there was a bird on the chandelier. It was a distraction that brought me out immediately, I dropped the pills and bolted to the fragile shivering body. I saw myself in that little bird. Clinging desperately to an edge, unsure of what sort of world it had just flown into. It was dropping feathers as it flew, small bundles of fluff and significant flying feathers continued to fall as it bounced around the room. I put my finger out and it landed. I looked at it and it felt like such a revelation, I could help this bird be free again. It wasn’t the end, I just needed to open the door and show it the way. Through tears and a lot of work guiding that flustered bird towards the door, it flew out and landed on the drive way. After orienting itself and staring back at me for what felt like a long time, it flew away.

It was quite a journey since that day. I wish I could say that the revelation corrected my trajectory and brought me instant relief but it was just a nudge. I fumbled a lot more, fell again and again but I learned so much about myself on the way. I had a lot of help, guidance and support from amazing people that kept me hopeful every day. I ended up in emergency, I met professionals, I tried alternative medicine, and then I finally went inward as far as I could to the roots and began to recognize what I needed. Mostly, it was just to feel like I belonged. Like everything that happened in the past, the traumas that left me hollowed out were over now. I needed to feel safe. My body had been in a state of fight or flight for almost a decade. My body was trying to protect me, warn me, to make sure that those things that happened wouldn’t happen again so it had been working overtime. I lost a lot of important feathers. Yet I could somehow still fly and it wasn’t the end.

The illnesses that came and went, those that I still live with, they are part of my journey. I work hard every day to ask the question, ‘what would someone who loves themselves do?’. Answering that question gives me a new foundation. I have peaks and valleys and sometimes memories come up that feel like the all the air has been sucked from my lungs. Yet, I have come far from that bedroom and that bird that spoke directly to my heart. I am worth it and the pain does ebb and flow. I have love in my life and more ideas for expansion than I know what to do with. I am no longer afraid of finding the roots and working to free them from becoming the blocks that separate me from knowing what I truly am.



Shape Shifting

I am the dreamer. Slipping through the cracks of rest, into the fanning pages of dream. My body peels into thin transparent layers, bending around the edges of my desire. Tucked warm in the blanket piles of bed, I am on the edge of each drifting moment, breathing into the transformations. The fog lifts into …

Wolf Reflections



As I drift inward, the pulse of my intuition expands. I am combining in the energy built on the ledges and edges of your being. There is no closing, only an opening that brings your spirit into unison with mine. These are my promises, to listen and watch all the paths that you show me. Into the forest, the old paths that treaded so worn that they are engraved into your soul. I can feel the length of spine and security of earth beneath your feet. You speak softly, in nudges and deep guttural flows of breath. The earth opens to receive our presence and I slip away from my conditioned thinking. Into the spiral steps of home, to the den that you shared, to the lives that you took out of need. 

The flows of energy intertwine, between leaps of air. I ask simple questions and you give the answer at my core. No confusion, animal wisdom comes in many forms. With you its in gliding colour and images. Reminding me to watch patiently as the messages unfold like origami cranes. I am grounding heavy through the layers, finding space on roots, in the stories left by others. You guide me between the realms and open my inner eyes. I can feel my body releasing fear, the seed presented in front of me, you show me how to let go and how the rivers flow when I finally do. These pieces are wolf wisdom, you received when you were born and before. There were lessons and the land provided you with each, a gift of life. Weaving through your warm coat, I see the winters that shone off your back. The hunts that brought your mornings, and these memories fill me with connection. Your stories frame my vision, including my own body, carrying me safe behind yellow eyes. I hear your thoughts and they filter through my understanding until I find treasures of meaning. The things you held on to. Truth and community, sharing what you learn. You urge me to give, of myself, of my abilities.

When we meet in dreams, you show me the magic of transformation. That you are much more than you appear, that we all are.

Scars of Brilliance

Basil broth, I soak in a talisman bath, hoping to bring the abundance back. My skin brims with gold, soaking the floor and rippling hard wood. I am more powerful than I remember amidst the ideas that I am beneath, always below. My skin tells stories, the webs between fingers glisten with hope, that I …

Phantom limbs

I prefer being a landscape or a large body of water. My bones are rocks and old stumps, my flesh ripples of greenery, popping with colour and bending deep into valleys. I can sense the vastness but am not caught in the sum of parts, lancing into cavernous hideaways and breathing deep into the bellies …

sensate symphony

We were hidden lovers, restless specks of cosmo intertwined on the inside. Now I am through your eyes and feel what it’s like to explore the inner realms as I am you. This divide collapses and we merge completely. Biological boundaries melting into a sensate symphony. Your body holds the mystery, each tingle deepening as …

Gifts of raw

The body stretches, chest broken and lungs collapsed, I pause in these moments between living and dying. When my dreams swing doors wide and corrupt my mind with shadow divisions. I sat too long on the lap of death and now I call the blood back to my skin, kiss my own cold lips. My …

Rivers of carnelian

I can’t recall a time that I flowed so seamlessly through my wounds. Looking in the mirror, I find the edges and pull my breath to leap my chest with longing. I tried to tear apart the frame and unravel the roots as if it was that easy to destroy divinity. These racked ribs carry …