Today I found solace not in a tree but in the eyes of a wounded wood pigeon. There were many inner and outer synchronicities that led me to this beautiful bird who stood on the pavement of a road in town just waiting. Waiting for something, for someone? Until the moment I saw the pigeon, I couldn't clearly understand why the flow had taken me to town today, although that was not 'the plan'!  There was blood in the pigeon's body and s/he had lost his/her tail. As soon as I saw him/her I stopped the car and picked him/her up. I always have a carrier with me in my car for injured wildlife who I then take to expert friends for rehabilitation.

The pigeon positioned her/his body as close to me as possible in the carrier, which I had put on the passenger's seat, looking at me with her/his expressive eyes. S/he felt trusting ... we talked ... it felt very loving.

S/he had lost her tail; my sacroiliac muscles had been painful.

S/he was waiting for something/someone, standing still, in pain; I was waiting for a moment of directive alignment, partially disconnected, sad for everything that is not real, everything that is violent.

S/he had blood in her body and a limp; I was feeling exhausted in trying to navigate the paradox of form and formlessness.

In the hair of the woman you painted Blue Petrichor I see bird's wings...I see a flow...I see a reaching up while being rooted in the groundness of the Earth. I see freedom of spirit in a wood pigeon's little body.

Love and transition.