Feathers and Other Signs

Paying attention and suspending disbelief

My wedding bouquet, including some of the feathers in this story. Note the blue jay feather at the top.

My dog Cleo loved to walk. Her favorite walk was a 25 minute loop around the neighborhood, going by numerous trees, listening to birds, and seeing the occasional scampering small critter. After my brother died in 2002, I started noticing black feathers on our walks. Some of the books I read about after-death communication talked about Spirit using feathers and things like coins on the ground to say hello and remind us of our ongoing connection.

I was skeptical but I didn’t think there was any harm in giving this “feather theory” the benefit of the doubt. When I’d see a black feather, I’d think of my brother and say hello. I really didn’t believe that my deceased brother was somehow placing feathers in my path, but acknowledging him when I saw a black feather became a ritual that helped me process my grief.

Seeing feathers

Then my brother’s daughter died three years after he did. As the shock receded and my normal life took over, I said out loud, “Well, if the black feathers were real, I’ll need a different color of feather to indicate my niece.” Soon after, on one of my walks with Cleo, I saw a large black feather parallel to a smaller white feather on the sidewalk. I stopped for a moment, and said, “Interesting, but it doesn’t mean anything since we’re standing under a tree. Feathers fall from birds. Birds congregate in trees.”

Cleo and I kept walking. 

We got to the end of the sidewalk and turned right to go over a grassy stretch leading to another sidewalk. I pulled up short when I saw what was in the grass: a large black feather and a smaller white feather were sticking up perpendicular to the ground, side by side. I stopped in my tracks, with Cleo happily sniffing during the delay.  I sensed my brother around me, laughing, and felt him say, “NOW do you believe it’s a sign from us?”

And, yes, I did … at least in that moment. My skepticism was slowly receding, but we were still walking around trees and birds. And feathers are bound to fall. Sometimes a feather is just a feather.

Sometimes feathers are not just feathers

Then my sweet Cleo pup died in 2009. I stopped walking for a while. The first time I did “Cleo’s walk” all the way around the neighborhood, I wasn’t thinking about feathers until we got to the grassy stretch where I had seen the two feathers sticking up out of the ground. There was nothing there. I was a little disappointed, even though I hadn’t set out to look for feathers. I said, “Well, for me to believe it’s a feather from Cleo, the feather would have to be different than the black feather for my brother and the white feather for my niece.” Still … no feathers on the rest of my walk.

Until the very end. As I turned left from the sidewalk onto the walk to my house, sticking straight up in the ground was a small, fuzzy, light brown feather that matched my fluffy, biscuit-colored dog.

I finally believed.

Paying attention

But life can be overwhelming sometimes. Beginning in 2010, my elderly parents started having health challenges and required a lot of support. I was also working on my Ph.D., which included counseling internships, classes, and dissertation research. I didn’t slow down enough to notice feathers.

My mother died in 2012. The first time I went back to campus after her death, I stopped at the bathroom on the first floor before going upstairs. The bathroom is at a right angle to the front door, about 20-25 feet away, and down a narrow hallway.  As I left the bathroom, there was a blue jay feather on the floor. Blue. Not black, white, or tan. Blue, like the color of my mom’s eyes. There’s no logical explanation for that feather being that far from the door.

And yet the feather was there. Letting me feel as if my mother was there saying, “Hello. I’m okay. I’m at peace. No longer in pain. I’m still with you.”

We only see in part

Do those in spirit form manipulate matter so that we can find feathers or pennies and remember? Or do those in spirit somehow lead us to see certain birds or rainbows? Do they create orbs in photos, or direct us to see repeating number patterns?

I don’t know.

Nor do I believe I need to know.

When I look at someone’s spiritual beliefs, I ask two questions: (1) does this belief help them, and (2) can this belief hurt anyone else?

Seeing feathers as signs from loved ones helped me process my grief, letting me feel a continuing connection to those who have passed on, and increased my sense of love. So, yes, this belief helps me. Believing this somewhat incredible thing doesn’t hurt anyone else, so I’m good on the second question, too.

When I hear someone talk about something that is outside my understanding of the world, I go back to my two questions:

• Does this spiritual belief help them?

• Does this spiritual belief hurt anyone else?

With curiosity I can look for how this belief is helping them. If there is nothing about their belief that hurts anyone else, why would I judge it? 

We each only see in part. Let us have the humility to acknowledge our own limitations of sight and understanding. Let us have the grace to see the beauty in others’ beliefs.

Especially when we disagree with those beliefs.