“To bring anything into your life, imagine that it’s already there,” wrote Richard Bach in his book Illusions. I needed to prove that I was the creator of my life, so I left my city home and set out to find a blue feather. I gave myself 48 hours. That weekend I must have walked every park, every nature conservatory, every preserve, every country path within a fifty mile radius of my home. Eventually, I even looked in my own small yard, but no blue feather.
It was Sunday night. My 48 hours were nearly used up. Finally, I gave up, surrendered, and decided to go to bed. As I reached for the light switch, I heard a voice within my head. “Turn around. Turn around.” The voice was subtle, and yet there was a strength to it that forced me to obey.
At the moment I turned around, my cat Sesame, knocked over her basket of toys. Among the balls and catnip mice that spilled out was a blue feather. Once attached to a twine-wrapped ball along with canary yellow and cardinal red feathers, the peacock blue feather had broken away and lay by itself as if to say, “Here I am. Can you see me now?” The feather was there all along. All I had to do was open my eyes-and my mind-to see it.
I’ve told this story many times in workshops over the years when one workshop participant outdid me. In that workshop-a year-long mystery school, The Sacred Path-we met once a month. Participants were tasked with manifesting a blue feather to prove they could create what they dreamed of for their lives. They had one month to do so.
When we came together again, everyone had found their blue feathers. They were all excitedly telling their stories while we waited for one of the women who was running late. Finally, she came in, breathless with excitement and a handful of feathers. “Will white feathers count?” she asked, and then told her story.
She was driving north on a two-land highway to our gathering of The Sacred Path. She was running a little late and getting frustrated because she was stuck behind a slow-moving truck and couldn’t pass because of traffic. Finally, she gave up, surrendered, telling herself she might as well relax and enjoy the scenery. Just then, the truck hit a bump and feathers came flying right at her and right into her hand that was outside the car window.
She was following a truck load of chickens. Everyone in our workshop laughed with our friend, and our delight was to grow even more. She has another story to tell. “All these white feathers prove to me that if I make my intent clear, take action toward what I want, and surrender to the process, I can manifest what I want. Still these are white feathers and I wanted a blue feather, but I decided the quantity of these white feathers would take the place of a blue feather. I was already here and had this handful of white feathers. Then, when I got out of the car, I looked down and right there, right in front of my feet where I nearly stepped on it was this.” She held up her other hand and there it was, a perfect blue feather, gift of a blue jay.