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Hope Is The Thing With feathers..

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I fear that I might sound ridiculous; I am still throwing caution to the wind and have chosen to relate a profound moment I shared with the Universe.

All my life, I was agnostic. Cynical. Bitter. I didn’t believe in looking for signs. I must admit that the cynicism stemmed from my inability to read signs even if one did an elaborate gig in front of me. (A friend once observed that I was terrible at reading signs. If there was only one way to interpret a sign, maybe, it should be called science right?)

Since May, I started spotting a lot of feathers. So white. So light. So free. They were floating in the air. I was far from them. So I couldn’t collect them. But I saw them floating and floating and floating.

On a particularly dark day, I told myself that I wanted to see a feather. I had a little conversation with the Universe and said that I would love to see a feather. I finished uttering the words in my head, turned to my right, and there was a feather. White. Light. Free. It was floating. It was there for a few seconds. I was entranced. Although my gaze was fixed on it, the tiny feather disappeared where it was. No. It didn’t float away. It disappeared. Like somebody swished a wand and made it disappear. Gone.

I blinked again and there was an orange butterfly by my window. I blinked one more time. That was gone too. I smiled. Did the Universe try to make me understand that everything was going to be okay? Was it a sign to be gentle and light?

I wanted to find the right word to name my feeling. But words were elusive.

Now I can grasp a word.

Miracle.

Somebody said I must have daydreamed. While this entire account makes me sound weird, it humbles me to realise that there are things which are utterly ineffable.

I see feathers everywhere now. Lifts. Pavements. Restaurants. Windowsills. Even in places where they are not expected to be seen. Sometimes, they are simply found. Sometimes, they come flying and land at my feet. Sometimes, they come floating and cross my path. I see them everywhere. Maybe, synchronicity works that way.

18740340_10213279876408404_8152275338973204828_nI see them in various sizes and colours. I collect and store most of them in a tin box. I do not know what I would do with all the feathers. But those are tokens from the Gods all the same. Witnesses of the conversations I have with the Universe. Wordless promises. Silent solaces. My version of love in the air. Surprise gifts at my feet. Messages from the beyond.

When I met a feather yesterday, I showed it to a friend. “I think they are following you,” he smiled.

I couldn’t bear that weight on my shoulders. I looked at the grey feather one more time and said, “I follow them.”

  • Deepika Ramesh is a reader, blogger, animal-lover, aspiring cyclist, and a sucker for tiny, warm moments. She blogs at http://worncorners.com/

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