the hawk, the pencilfox, and the holy.

 ********

in mid january, defeat and surrender were my enemies, 

and i knew it was time to change my outlook, 

or fall prey to the deadly sins of bitterness and resentment. 

i was feeling beaten and bruised and so very tired of 

trying to do the right thing for myself. 

still not wanting to give in to seeming weak, 

i began working myself hard in physical therapy,

forcing my body into submission, pushing to return to work.

my fragile shoulder fought back, telling me it was not ready.

i'm not sure where along the path i gave in to the notion that there may be

a grand design for me. 

maybe it was the opening of blocked energy

and crying almost every day to the point of feeling open and emptied.

maybe it was the universe working its magic on me, 

telling me in subtle fashion that i was no longer in control.

heaven forbid, but maybe it was time to listen to someone wiser than i was 

at that moment.

i'm not the master of the universe.

i don't have to be the saviour of the world.

and believe it or not, i'm not perfect.

this wednesday past, i composed a letter of termination, 

cleared off my studio table, fetched my favourite pen,

and began the proceedings to retire from my position.

most definitely, i found myself in the grip of insomnia on thurday noc,

rolling numbers and what if through my noggin.

still feeling doubtful yet decided

-- if it is possible to feel both at the same time --

the thought came to me that it would be optimal if,

when walking into the retirement office for a ten-minute drop-in appointment,

my favourite counselor would say

i just had a cancellation, let me go over your paperwork with you.

early friday morning,

i sauntered down to the kitchen, fed the animals, drank some tea,

and then, dressed for the day, tucking a hawk collectacard into my pocket.

the pencilfox family loaded up for the long drive to the city,

and we unhurriedly made our way southward.

through the car window,

i looked out over the hayflats and glimpsed an eagle high in a spruce tree.

i raised my hand and whispered my usual greeting.

ho.

it never happens this way in busy downtown anchorage,

but a parking place opened up directly in front of the atwood building.

we walked in, proceeded to the to the office,

and heard the words

i just had a cancellation….come on in….let's go over your paperwork.

i wondered how i would feel, knowing my career would end.

others began asking me

how do you feel?

are you jumping with joy?

are you dancing?

no, all i felt was emptiness.

i suppose i was looking for a sign that all was as it was meant to be.

on our long drive homeward, a black pencilfox ran across the road in front of the car,

pausing on the roadside to turn and look back at us.

two hawks were posted up high in a tree, overlooking the river.

i had my signs.

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