For the past few weeks since I’ve started my new approach to life I’ve spotted feathers in my neighborhood. I don’t know if it’s a seasonal issue for birds or what, but I’ve started taking them as signs of universal support for my actions.
It wasn’t until last night, though, that I actually picked one up and brought it home. I’d actually picked up two, but one was lost from my pocket. This morning, as I contemplated exercising before I checked email, to make sure I put my needs first, the large feather above appeared on the side of the road. If I’d been biking instead of walking my bike up a hill, I would’ve missed it. It felt magical.
And then there were the feathers… From then on feathers were the way I knew he was near me – I’d be thinking about him in the street, and next moment a feather would appear on my path. I’d find them in the house – little white ones between the pages of my books, a gray feather in the bathroom. It was strange and comforting… pg 35-36
She also wrote about her trip to New York in the same chapter:
Snapping my way through the kaleidoscope of restaurants, I found a bookshop with a poster of Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe displayed in the window. Lured inside – who can resist a new bookshop? – I browsed for an hour, thumbing books about the city and the books about writing…pg 44
So many little connections, and I take them all as signs I’m on the right path.