Feathers are everywhere.

I am used to seeing many of them outside – we live in the country, after all – but not so used to seeing them inside, or to the degree that I’ve been seeing them recently.

I didn’t think that much of it, only that it was kind of weird that my world seems to have been plastered in feathers recently. But then my Mom told me that feathers are symbolic of ascension and spiritual evolution to a higher plane. Angels are said to use feathers to get our attention, remind us they are close. (I’m sure there is more to this, but that’s what I remember)

The feathers in the house made sense then, along with the feather on the road, in the outhouse, by the car, IN the car, on the deck, by the rabbits, on the playground, by the river.

My brother is with me.


I finished Proof of Heaven. The Audible version is much longer than the written version, with an almost 40 minute long addendum that made me absolutely positive that Dana sent that my way.

meriah-nichols-3The Greer Mortuary (where Dana was) has also helped in a grief “affirmation” – daily emails that have something for me to think about or work on that makes sense in my current emotional space.

The photo on the page where you sign up for them is dorky; the name is too (“Letting the Sun Shine In Daily Emails“?!! FUCK THE SUN SHINING IN; I WANT MY BROTHER BACK).

But they are good, really good.


One of the hardest pieces in this for me is that I have realized that I get nowhere, I will get nowhere, if I spiral down emotionally. I will lose sight of Dana if I am not able to rise up and strengthen my soul and try and reach where he is. That is, he can’t come down; he’s on another plane. But I can reach that plane if I focus and try. Prayer and deep meditation can lead me to that plane. Silence, solace and being careful with who I surround myself with will help me.

It feels as if it’s simultaneously the most difficult and easiest thing that I’ve ever done in my life: focus with all of my power, hone the essence of who I am, distill this through my consciousness and make Love my primary muscle. And every bit of it has to be run on Faith, and guided by feeling.

It’s like that game, “Marco Polo”, – remember that? Where you can’t see and call out, “Marco?” and the others will answer “Polo!” and you are guided to tagging them by the sound and location of their voices. Only in this, I really am deaf and I can’t see and I am guided only by the vibrations from the strength of my focused prayer and thought.


I have absolutely no idea how much sense any of this makes. If any.

But I thank you for walking with me, and I thank my brother for sending me the feathers that guide me.


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is a deaf blogger, global nomad, tech-junkie, cat-lover, Trekkie, Celto-Teutonic-peasant-handed mom of 3 (one with Down syndrome and one gifted 2E).
She likes her coffee black and hot.
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