I have been inundated by vultures. And while I bet that's the first time you've read those particular words strung together in a sentence, it remains a true statement. I have been seeing vultures everywhere. And they have been behaving strangely.
A couple of weeks ago, while taking an early morning around~town walk due to the deep mud on my usual lakeside path, I saw two vultures standing on the ground in a small parking area behind an empty building. They were not feeding. They were not sunning themselves. They did not appear to be injured. They simply stood there. Though the birds looked fully grown, I assume they could have been fledglings, old enough to hop from the nest, but too young to get back in or to fly about freely.
They did not seem unnerved by my presence, letting me walk within a few feet of them without complaint. It was odd, but I didn't give it much thought...until two days later when, after having returned to my lakeside path, I saw an additional pair flying above. The next morning, I saw two more.
It is not, of course, unusual to see vultures around these parts. They hunt for sustenance to feed themselves and their young, riding thermals while searching for the dead to feast upon. However, the behavior of these two lake pairs was unusual as well. They were not riding thermals. They did merely arc overhead. Each one circled directly above me before winging off to the pasture to the north. And while they did not fly near enough for me to feel the wind off their wings, they flew no more than 8 feet above me, lower than I'd ever seen vultures fly in the nearly 3 decades I've walked that route.
Yep, vultures have certainly captured my attention.
And while those who know about such things would likely have a simple explanation for the combined vulture sightings of those few days, what interested me most was their symbolic significance and the spiritual guidance they had to offer. Though the dominant culture of the industrialized world would, at the very least, doubt this perspective, indigenous peoples have generally found meaning in such phenomena. And because science and spirituality needn't clash, I chose to listen to both.
First, I gathered some vulture facts. The birds that had been making their presence known in my life were turkey vultures. They live entirely on carrion, and are the only scavengers who cannot kill their prey. Turkey vultures possess the largest olfactory system of any bird, and are able to detect rotting flesh from over a mile away. Their red face and neck are devoid of feathers to keep them tidy while poking about inside the carcasses of the dead.
The turkey vulture's species name is Cathartes Aura. Cathartes comes from the Greek kartharsis, meaning to purify or cleanse, and is key to another important word for the spiritually minded: catharsis. Aura in Greek means breeze, while aureus is Latin for golden. So the name of this bird who seems a shoe~in for the first place prize in this year's ugly bird contest translates as either golden purifier or cleansing breeze. And a bird with a name like that really oughta be respected, particularly when it appears repeatedly in one's life.
That is the science. For the spiritual aspect, I sat with this bird in meditation one day. (Skeptics, bear with me here!) When I asked what message it brought me, this is what vulture told me:
"Attend to the cycles of death, transformation, and rebirth. Welcome each in its right time. Do not be afraid of that which you deem unpleasant, even ugly. Embrace it all. Death is a necessary aspect of the whole process. Seek out that which has served its purpose, and transform it into nourishment. Do as I do. Be as I am. Embody your role as the golden purifier of your own life. Receive the cleansing breeze."
That encouragement became my spiritual practice these past few weeks. As you can imagine, it has kept me busy. I began by noticing my urge to turn from that which I find disturbing. And I chose to aim my nose directly toward it instead. I delighted in "making like a vulture", breathing in the pranic life force energy to sniff out old habits, outdated thought patterns, and attitudes that hung on despite my no longer consciously wishing to identify with them.
Next I stepped right into the work of transformation. Stretching my neck out, I stuck my beak down into that decay, seeking the bits of nourishment still hanging on, in hopes of using them to fuel the young and newly developing parts of myself.
Was I successful? The answer is yes, and the answer is no. Yes, my energy seems a bit less bound up in no longer viable carcasses. And no, this process is not yet complete and never will be. Vulture guidance never ends, at least not on this plane of existence.
But life goes on. Yesterday, as I passed a field just after dawn, I had another sighting. This time, though, it was not vultures that I saw. A fox stood in the center of the meadow with 5 kits frolicking and tumbling about, and occasionally running in for a quick suckle.
Death, transformation, rebirth, growth, decay. Each is an element in this dance of life. And while I am immensely grateful for my recent vulture tutoring, as spring leans toward summer I relish turning the page to a new chapter in this primer for human life.
This young family yips its guidance my way...and now yours:
"Play, enjoy, and savor. Expand with the season. Give nurturance freely to that which can grow only through you. Revel in that growth now, even while knowing that the wheel will soon turn once again. Such is life. Embrace it. Live it. Love it all."
Much love,
Leia
