I would describe myself as inconsistently spiritual. At this point, there is no religion where I truly connect; and I have the bad habit of leaning on spirituality only when I need it. Not that I behave in a godless and lawless manner most of the time, but it just doesn't play into my day-to-day. Or maybe it does and I only notice it when it provides me some type of comfort. I guess I'll figure that out at some point. Or not. I'm having trouble committing to a decision today.
Like so many, I connect deeply to spirituality through animals. I like to think that birds on windowsills or flying overhead at just the right time are symbols or connections. I know I'm not alone there. Sure, the reality may be that the heron is overhead because he's about to kill a fish and the cardinal on the windowsill is sitting there because he's suffering brain damage from flying into your neighbor's window. Who knows? If turning a probably random encounter with nature into some type of sign brings you comfort, why not let it?
But I do think some visits are less random than others. I've always felt a kinship with foxes. Foxes are elusive and private and somehow walk a line between vicious and sweet. I see foxes often and unexpectedly, usually when I crave some feeling of majesty or safety. When I was little, there was a fox who would appear from a tiny patch of woods in my neighbors' yard. I only saw him/her when I was outside alone. She would sit erect like a cat and watch me. She was neither relaxed nor scared, just casually alert. Maybe she sat there wondering what kind of six year old boy has roses to tend.
And then there was my car accident in high school. I was a senior and it was the last day before Christmas break. I had probably only slept six hours in seven days, no drugs or alcohol to blame--just a super horny 17 year old riding (no pun intended) the high of finally getting my (then) boyfriend to give it up. So one minute I'm driving to school thinking about how I'm going to sneak out after third period and bang my boyfriend at the tanning salon--and the next I open my eyes to see my car hit a tree. I had fallen asleep at the wheel, listening to Britney Spears and wearing flip flops no less, and gone off the road. Britney was still blaring and I remember checking all my limbs thinking I must be terribly hurt. I walked out of my car relatively unscathed. Except for my nose where the airbag punched me, leaving the tip of my nose bright red. Being right before Christmas, I did have to endure many Rudolph jokes. A small price. The police officer told my dad that had I not jerked my wheel at the last second to the left, the accident would have been much, much worse. My vivid recollection is opening my eyes and hitting the tree almost head on. I do not remember moving the wheel at all. But the tire tracks in the mud clearly showed a radical swerve. My dad drove me back home and left for work. I was stunned and disgusted with myself. I went outside and just stood in a mental firestorm of fog. Until I saw a fox. By this time, we were living in a different house, and some ten years after my original fox. The fox sat like a cat and stared at me. It was a feeling of serenity and security. I still wonder if the swerve and the fox were related. I, of course, think the fox was a sign that something else swerved my wheel away from the tree.
Anyway, I have been having frequent visits with yet another fox. After I drink my coffee, Barbie knows it's time for us to go play F-E-T-C-H (I am conditioned to never speak that word). The routine is that I take the lid off my coffee cup, take the last sip, and Barbie starts jumping up and down knowing what's next. In order for her to allow me to go to work, she must be exhausted beyond reason. A few days ago, somewhere between throws (with this miracle device), I noticed an odd color in the corner of my vision. A slightly more apricot twinge among the red brown of oak leaves. Upon further inspection, I realized it was a fox. A sweet, sleeping fox--curled into a ball. Eventually, she feels my eyes on her and she wakes up. Did you know a female fox is called a vixen?This has gone on many days in a row. I've had a lot on my mind lately...new business ventures (in addition to the salon, not instead of). I've been all over the place second and third guessing my ideas. I'll go to bed thinking an idea is brilliant and wake up thinking it's crap. I've been uncharacteristically unsure of my creativity and ability.
Foxes no doubt have a personal spiritual meaning to me. This morning I became curious as to their more general spiritual association. I found luck, confidence, and creativity.
Just what I need.