Little Black Bird: A Mystical Mother's Vision

Since my son moved out unexpectedly last summer, I've experienced multiple visions involving the symbolism of the blackbird. This context is essential before I share a significant vision I had on March 1. When he first entered this world, I affectionately called him Little Bird.

In the most profound vision last October, he appeared to me as a Raven. This was in the context of the Pacific Northwest story about how the Raven followed his curiosity and restored the sun to the sky. That moment marked a turning point for me. I realized I had to let him go to fulfill his destiny.

The following is the medicine I've been walking with over the past two weeks, coinciding with my forty-fifth birthday. It’s about continuing to release what was never truly mine and what was never authentically me. I’m learning to feel the truth of what remains—in him and in myself.

Part 1: The Limp Black Bird

There’s a black bird with glossy feathers. It lies limp, possibly dead, but I can't tell for sure. Its feathers are oily, and it appears skinny and weak. Spindly bones jut out, half gone. I want to cry, feeling the panic rising within me.

Is this bird my son? My son is gone. Oh my God, is this where he is now?

Part 2: The Ecosystem's Support

The bird lies on the earthen ground, and I watch as the ecosystem begins to support it. Earthworms, grasshoppers, and tiny creatures come together. With their collective strength, they lift the bird and carry it to a grassy mound in the distance. I am merely an observer.

Part 3: The Hysteria

I begin to yell in hysteria. My baby bird has fallen. Oh my God, this must be what has happened. Why can't I get a clear vision? A clear answer? I feel lost. I haven't been able to reach him, and this is what happens when I can't keep my eyes on him.

The panic rises within me. This is why my heart has been aching. He is gone, and I couldn’t prevent this. How did it come to this? I am alone, yelling, crying, and feeling hysterical. I scream for someone to help me, but there is no response. Scanning, scanning, I feel utterly powerless.

Part 4: The Living Creatures

The living creatures lift my little bird, limp, and carry him to a common spot, a mound, to care for him. I’m still panicked, scanning my surroundings for help. I can't fully feel one emotion before another takes its place. I am frazzled beyond rationale as I watch.

Just then, strong hands come down on my shoulders from behind, steadying me instantly. A rush of warmth flows through my body. I am told to run the Diamond Light current through me and into the Earth for the bird. I do, and I can. This is what I can do. I am reminded of my medicine and that my actions hold truth.

Part 5: The Future Connection

It is revealed that the strong hands belong to Rowan. He is here from the future, as his steady and wise adult self. Rowan from the future says, “You have to show me, mom. You show me how to be by being it." He hands me a feather.

Part 6: The Uncertainty

I watch as the creatures carry the little bird to the earth mound. I can't tell if it’s dead now. I struggle to steady myself against the dissociation enough to see it clearly. I want to know, but I also don't. It's overwhelming.

Panic rises again, intensifying my dissociation. I scan my surroundings, pleading for help. Older Rowan reassures me that it’s okay to feel each feeling fully without escaping it. So, I steady myself and begin to embrace my emotions.

Part 7: The Revelation

Older Rowan tells me that the bird was never him. It was a part of me. "The annoying parts," he says directly. The parts unable to feel fully, the jumpy and stressed-out non-self. These are the reasons my heart hurts. The inauthentic spaces where fear has taken root.

He is whole. I am whole. I am grateful to see this old version of myself fade away. It did not survive.

Part 8: The Dance of Joy

Red and black flood into the vision. Tribal colors swirl around me as I see a flying bird radiating streams of orange and gold, like fire. Then, Rowan and I are dancing at a powwow, adorned in full tribal dress.

We dance and laugh together, sharing more joy than ever. It feels as if we’ve unlocked the secret to Life. We stomp our feet, arms raised, holding hands. There is so much joy.

This is a future him and a future me—or perhaps an eternal him and an eternal me. The essence of each of us is represented here. Drummers beat their rhythms, and we dance in our red and black. We transcend all that has happened. We are souls, magicians, medicine keepers.

Once again, we are reminded of who we are and the true meaning of our existence. Once again, he has reminded me. My teacher and equal, a soul I love in every lifetime, in every form.

I have called you my little bird. I have called you My Son, My Sun. I have called you the name you whispered to me, but your father didn't want to spell it the way you showed me. You said, "Call me Rohan." In Sanskrit: masculine, Ascending.

I love you eternally. I love you in any form and beyond time. Thank you for the medicine that continues to wake, shake, and transform me.

How many times did we read this book? The boy became the Raven, left the mother, and took the sun back to the sky.