I am bird woman

Energy work, adventures and making progress with the gift of feathers.

I am surrounded by blue. And it is a joy.

Bright blue peacocks, blue sky, blue sea, incredible blue Hydrangeas, blue dress. This week I cancelled my ‘TheBlueRay’, domain name for the website that I never set up, the healing business that I was never able to fully get off the ground. And here I am taking in a rainbow of verdant azul.

I am a powerful energy worker, I know that. I have seen the changes that I can support clients to make. To help them tap into their inner-knowing and resources to find the way forward, no matter how hidden. A capacity for clearing energy, old stories and beliefs that is hard to put into words. I love my work and walking in the spirit realms but the message has been very clear and getting louder over the last year - heal yourself first.

I thought I was well underway with that journey but apparently there are still too many wounds, stories and beliefs hidden under my surface that I need to bring out into the light and gently release. It is my body that tells me this. My body and it’s myriad pains and unexplainable symptoms. I don’t sleep well at night in the Cornwall Airbnb. The pain rumbles deep in my bones as soon as I lie down, reaching a horrible crescendo. ‘"It’s only sensation” I try to tell myself but every night I am beset by vivid nightmares, waking over and over again. I decide the old barn conversion must be haunted as I feel energy wherever I go, but on my return my therapist wonders what messages my body was trying to tell me.

I am in Cornwall for a reason. I am here because of the commitment to Radical Change that I made pre-op (read more on that here ). As part of this commitment, to start doing the practical work towards change, I excitedly signed up to a number of Facebook groups with titles like ‘Vanlife’ and ‘Help wanted/Off-Grid/Experience Sought/Freeholdings’ which I scroll voraciously in my down time. Dreaming of a new life. Last week I felt a strong tug of energy that had me immediately responding to a post on one of these groups on a non -characteristic whim.

A man with broad shoulders and sparkling eyes wanted help on his campsite in Cornwall in exchange for food and accommodation. Even whilst my logical brain grappled with the possibility of it all, the energetic tug of possibility won, we ended up chatting and suddenly a trip was planned. Excitement bubbled up like a wellspring of delight, I was going on an adventure, I was taking a first step to change.

The night before my departure I sat on my bed listening to the delightful Mooney's Mythic Parlour and pulling cards for my journey. I pulled the ‘Heron’ card, stamped underneath with the word ‘Progress’. I love Heron as a totem and have worked with him often. To me he stands for independence, forward movement, stillness, the waiting game. As I pulled the card, Maya Love began to sing on the podcast:

“Heron is calling, Heron is calling you

And asking you to be true.

And beat to the the rhythm of your own drum.

Beat to the beat of your own drum’

I shiver at the synchronicity, here was a message loud and clear. A nudge from above, telling me yes, go on, you’re doing it. Keep going.

All my life I have been a people-pleaser or more honestly, a parent-pleaser. Many (not all) but many, of the decisions I have made in my life and certainly some of the bigger ones, have been made to appease my parents. To desperately seek the approval and love which I needed as a child to keep me safe (or so I thought). The problem is that living a life which is not in accordance with your own desires and dreams brings problems of its own and now it is time for me to break free. The birds are with me on this one, they always have been.

I have spoken to the birds for a long time. My earliest memory is sitting in a high chair, looking at an ancient, worn, brown, hardback book full of beautifully colourful hand-painted depictions of birds, learning their names from my Dad. The two pieces of art I have hanging in my home, both gifts, contain images of bluebirds - one flying through an open door and another sitting on a stag’s head. In the garden I look to the birds for inspiration and for solace, I see them soaring in the sky and sitting in trees as I drive the winding country roads and collect feathers like small miracles. Once you start to notice the birds, it is hard not to see them, hard not to be overjoyed by them, hard to imagine a life without them. Each bird brings a different message, some I know well, others not yet. What I do know is that the birds seem braver and more eager to communicate than ever before.

The Airbnb where I am staying is home to three majestic Peacocks, two females and a male who come curiously up to the front door of my room when I open it and peck at my feet as I eat my breakfast. I am reminded of my bohemian youth, travelling in India with my gorgeous boyfriend, both of us skinny, dreadlocked, young and free. It’s dusk, he is propped against a low stone wall, purple vest hanging off his shoulders, didgeredoo pressed to his lips whilst a Peacock prowls proudly on the wall behind his head. A moment, a feeling, an image, etched forever in my memory. For this reason, Peacocks speak to me of adventure, of regality, of beauty, love and travel. According to Google they also symbolise good luck, spirituality, self-confidence and rejuvenation. I am mesmerised by their jewelled blues and emerald greens, the soft taupes, violets and silver of the female. The funny little antenna-like feathers on their head as if they are in constant connection with the divine, a sixth sense almost like cats whiskers.

Leaving the Airbnb to set forth on my campsite adventure, I follow a trail of Peacock feathers. I spy a classic tail feather on the driveway and stop to pick it up. Turning around a black cat mews on the grassy bank behind me and I step up to stroke him as he leads me to a beautiful strong wing feather. As I turn to get back in the car, a Heron launches up from the pond in front of the house and takes its long, langorous flight across the garden. I shiver once more, the felt sense of otherworldly support being given in signs and symbols from our natural kin.

The campsite is set deeply inland, hidden amongst a riddle of narrow, high-hedged, winding, country lanes. The owner is larger than life, greying blonde hair in a ponytail, broad Scottish accent to match his broad shoulders. He wears big boots and a kilt. As well as being full of secret hope and excitement for this adventure, I have also had a good talk with myself about not getting carried away and preparing for disappointment. Setting foot in the campsite, the energy speaks to me straightaway I know it is a ‘no’ this is not the place for me. It’s hard to put a finger on what isn’t right but it feels like I have grown somehow. That despite the inner rescuer inside me who can see all that needs to be done to help ‘fix’ this man’s predicament, to bring this beautiful wild campsite back into the light, I can see that it is not my job to do. Whereas before I might have felt a sense of duty somehow for turning up or just an overriding desire to ‘help’, I am able to honestly speak about how the work would probably be too much for me, that it isn’t what I am looking for and that takes a lot of guts.

There are other volunteers here for the day and one woman and I get stuck into cleaning the grimy outdoor kitchen. I am amazed as to how one man has managed to keep so much going on his own and recognise the drive and passion of someone who is full of amazing ideas but without the capacity on his own to make them reality. I think of myself as a strategic thinker, I am good at finding ways to solve problems but I know how hard it is for projects to come by manpower these days. And I am filled with a familiar yearning for this life but fully supported by a partner, having ‘a team’, a shared goal, love, work and companionship.

No longer having to do it all on my own.

As we work on the kitchen we are joined by a Robin, Bluetit and Blackbird who fly in and out of the space to pick up scraps of food. The cleaning is a pretty gross job. Mouldy food inhabits bowls on the counter and there is a layer of grime on all the surfaces, but afterwards I feel the familiar lightening sense of energy being shifted, the cleanliness not only on the physical but energetic plane. The place feels welcoming and clean again even if my field feels somewhat icky from all that has been unstuck and I need a long, hot shower as soon as I get home. Even now, four days on, I feel the imprint of it, something still to clear. It is a gift that is hard to explain, this ability to clear energy and one I wish I could put into words and use more but not until I am fully able to do the work ensuring my own energy field is unaffected.

Leaving the campsite, the owner and I both know that I won’t be back. It was a strange day, I think we both had hopes for what may have happened and are equally surprised/let down/disappointed that it didn’t come to pass. However, inside I am also quietly celebrating. This is not disappointment, this is not a failure, this is clarity! This is the joy of being shown what you don’t want, what you cannot take on so you figure out more clearly exactly what (and who) it is that you do want.

This is progress.

I give deep, deep thanks to the birds for joining me on my journey.

And I think, I really, really, really want to live by the sea.