Into Heron

©2022 Michael Raven

I have developed a sudden, burning interest in herons and their symbolism. I really cannot explain it. I recall one or several standing in the shallow waters of a lake visible at the bottom of a steep slope that an aunt’s cabin rested upon. At the bottom of that frighteningly steep slope, he would stand in the rocky shallows with the apparent lack of interest in anything the world might have to offer before exploding into a cloud of blue, white, black, and grey in an always successful struggle to become airborne.

He or she would always be nearly half of the length of the lake away before the feet were no longer trailing in the lakewaters, forming small wakes behind, and then it would life up to the sky quite suddenly and disappear over the nearby horizon formed by any number of types of trees on the other side.

I let others oooh and ahhh over the eagles that paid us a visit from the direction that heron flew but, in my mind, that darned heron had it sussed. Majestic, beautiful and unassuming.

The other day, with no prompt I can recall, I thought… “heron”.

“What an odd thought to have. Heron? Why am I pondering herons?” I asked myself aloud like I do when I want someone to listen to me. I usually listen to me, but not always.

And then, as I tend to do at times, I looked to inspiration for something to focus my thoughts on and pulled out my Wild Wood Tarot and slipped out a card from the middling part of the deck.

King of Vessels, it informed me. Also: Heron.

Strange, I thought. This, I didn’t say aloud, unless I did, but I’m pretty sure I kept it inside my head.

And since, a fixation, wondering what the universe it getting at with such things, refreshing my memory of the symbolic and mystical meaning of what it means to be a heron and wishing I had far more space that I do on my skin to add a Celtic knotwork heron tattoo to my body.

Also — Tumblr apparently has shoelaces.