Dove Tale
By Summer Bacon
"You think you own whatever land you land on
The earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know ev'ry rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name
You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew you never knew"
-Colors of the Wind
©1995 Wonderland Music Company, Inc.
(BMI)/Walt Disney Music Company (ASCAP)
Unbeknownst to me, my mother and father did the craziest thing back in 1995. They bought a willow tree and planted it in their backyard. They live in Sedona, Arizona. It's not unusual to see willow trees in Sedona, but they must be planted near a water source such as the creek or an arroyo where they can soak up that lovely summer monsoon rain.
I had only been channeling for a few months, and often practiced my channeling at their house. My mom would ask the wackiest questions, such as: "Dr. Peebles, can we talk to the willow tree?" to which Dr. Peebles would respond, "Of course, my dear." Needless to say, it pushed my buttons bigtime. I'd be in trance, semi-conscious of what was happening, and I'd argue with Dr. Peebles: "Yeah, right. How is a willow tree going to speak through me?"
I can't exactly explain it, but it did. Dr. Peebles left, and I was filled with this willow-treey feeling. (Sorry...that's as technical as I can get.) It sure was a thirsty willow tree, too, and it was very weak and sick. My mother knew this, but I didn't. The willow tree talked to my Mom and Dad (honest) and asked to be transplanted to someplace with more water. Soon after that channeling session the willow found a new home with my parents' friends where it now flourishes.
On Easter day that same year, my mom was a bit distressed. A mourning dove had hit the huge window on the North side of their home. She had placed the dove in a pet carrier, and although it looked absolutely fine and healthy, it would not eat or drink. It just sat and watched everyone. My mother assumed that it was just winded and would eventually regain its strength.
"Summy, do you think you could channel the dove for us? Maybe, if we can talk to her, she can tell us what's wrong with her."
She brought the pet carrier into the living room and placed it on the couch. The bird looked beautiful. She sat with her head up, looking very calm, but very alert. I went into trance, and after a brief introduction from Dr. Peebles, the dove came into me (sort of a mourning dovey feeling) to tell its tale.
"My neck hurts," she said softly.
"Oh dear!" my mother cried, "Perhaps I should massage it for you!" My mother raced to the carrier, and was about to open the cage.
"No! Please don't touch me!" cried the dove, "I am alright. I will be fine. It's...it's time for me to go now. It's time for me to leave my body," the dove said.
The dove began to leave my body very, very slowly. My head began to drop to one side. Simultaneously, bright red blood began to spill out through the soft clean feathers around the neck of the mourning dove that was in the carrier! There had been NO indication whatsoever that the dove had injured its neck.
"Goodbye," the dove said through me. My head dropped completely to the side. The dove's head dropped to the side. The dove stopped breathing through me, and my body went limp. The dove in the carrier stopped breathing and went limp. Everyone was crying.
Dr. Peebles returned to tell a beautiful story about a woman in Sedona who passed away and, instead of going straight to the "other side" chose to incarnate immediately into the life of a mourning dove. She loved the mourning doves, he said, and she wanted to live her life as one. When her spirit left the mourning dove on that incredible Easter day, she became an angel.
There are so many amazing things about channeling that I cannot explain. But, there is one lesson above all that the process has taught me-everything has a spirit. Even objects-things-have a story to tell. Dr. Peebles says, "There are as many perspectives in the universe as there are stars in the heavens." I don't doubt that one bit.
What a more loving world it would be if we could all remember to "walk the footsteps of a stranger."