Medicinal Messengers
I was introduced to animal medicine in the late 90s by a gifted healer versed in the ways of Lakota traditions. Immediately drawn to this native wisdom, its language was a familiar song in my heart and in my bones.
She imparted stories of the messages and medicine offered up by the guardians of the earth—the wisdom and folly of trickster coyote, the spiritual dispatches of hawk, and bear’s call for introspection. When one of nature’s custodians appeared—in dreams, in waking life, or even in the cards—it was an offering: an invitation to listen, consider, and act.
Since, I’ve been reminded often by deer to stay gentle, swan to give grace, mountain lion to be a responsible leader, and many others over the years. But never turkey—the giveaway messenger, the medicine of sacrifice—until December 2019.
Synchronistic Timing
It was while I was preparing to transition out of the community I had helped raise, and who in kind had helped raise me. I had poured everything I had into this beautiful village for twenty-two years, and it had poured equally back into me. But it was time. I was ready to go and see what was next.
Then Covid arrived and altered my trajectory. I postponed by departure to help manage this unprecedented crisis, resuming tasks I had already begun to hand off and returning to a full schedule.
The Cards Never Lie
It was a much-loved tradition of our community culture to “pull cards” for inspiration when facing change, and during this time, our beloved animal medicine card deck got a lot of use. Defying the odds, the turkey showed up so often, it became a joke that he must be stalking me.
My mentor always counseled that messengers would continue showing up until you get the message being offered. It may not be the message you want to hear. It may seem like it doesn’t make sense. But it’s in there.
Cue the Violins
Turkey, the Give-Away Eagle, carries the message of sacrifice and giving away everything you have to help others. I had poured everything I had into this community for over twenty years, sacrificed my departure plans to help manage this crisis, and given all that I had to give. How was it not enough? What else was I supposed to do?
In the throes of my personal pity party, I turned to a different oracle card deck, created in the mystical philosophy of the shamans, for a bit of inspiration. I saged and shuffled and asked my question and guess which card revealed itself. The Giveaway: give generously without expectation of return. YCMTSU. I couldn’t even be annoyed. I just laughed. Clearly, I was missing something.
Missed Messages
With turkey on my heels for more than a year by that point, it had become a (sort of) funny story that I would tell sometimes, usually while lamenting that I hadn’t made good on my departure plan, still torn between my desire to fly and a deep sense of obligation to help.
In retreat with my new writing community, I told of a goodbye ceremony I had just facilitated in the spirit of the medicine wheel: the journey of arriving in the east of new beginnings, learning one’s craft in the south, gaining mastery in the west, and consolidating one’s wisdom in the north and handing it off in order to be unburdened and therefore free to return in the east and start something new.
From their little boxes on my desktop, I was met at first with curious smiles. Then one of the members jumped up and started clapping. Others smiled and cheered. And then a rather stoic and serious man unmuted and stated simply, “Karlyn, that’s your turkey.”
Uhm, what?
“Thinking leads to overthinking. Overthinking leads to missing the obvious. The obvious is always right in front of you.”
~ Jaxson Kidman ~
Forest, Meet Trees
“You’re in the north,” he said.
And just like that, the medicine arrived.
Click.
The north is the seat of completion, the time to consolidate the wisdom gathered through the journey and pass it along to the next generation so they can carry it forward. It is the place to release, to give away everything you have, to empty yourself, so that you can freely re-enter the east and begin anew.
It was never about giving more by doing more. It was about generously giving away everything I had in terms of the knowledge and wisdom gathered over the course of my journey. To place it lovingly in the hands of the next generation ready to lead the community.
That realization, gifted to me by the most unsuspecting person, set in motion my give-away. I spent the next year handing off what had been bestowed to me and closed my chapter in 2022, moving on to begin anew in the east. Literally.
Freedom
Finding the message and receiving the medicine offered by my avian pursuer enabled me to shift my perspective from one of obligation to liberation. The “turkey story” now holds a different meaning—things are not always what they seem and there is always more to the story if we are willing to be patient, listen, read between the lines, and believe.
And guess how many times the turkey has shown up in my cards since then? You know.