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Everyone loves the idea of a Guardian Angel. A watchful, guiding super-spirit that pulls your ass out of the flames when you do something really dumb. Or when fate throws you a seemingly insurmountable curveball. Think Ironman — my personal favorite superhero — with wings.
In my experience, I have found my savior spirits to come in all manner of shapes, sizes, species.
Many came to me supported by four legs and wet muzzles. Nickers and meows and happy yips lifted me up out of the dark pit of grief after my mother’s death.
Friends gathered me up and supported my family at the time of my daughter’s transplant. An entire community reached out and wrapped their arms around us.
All the Humans who triggered me, argued with me, pushed me to the next level of Life were the drill sergents of the bunch — never letting me settle. Shaking up my peace just enough for me to keep moving forward. Sometimes I didn’t know where I’d land — I just knew I had to leap. I learned to have faith in My Life.
The day I became a grandmother — a new spirit guide appeared. She and her sister guides showed me how vast and miraculous Life is. The future is why we exist in the first place. I understood — I had a duty to get my shit together — not for me or their mother or their aunt. For them. For their…
