Seagull: Prompt Post No. 7

The small white "boats" bob in the distance, like scoops of vanilla ice cream atop a dark, bluish float. I can't see the small black eyes of the gull, nor the vivid, sharp hooks of their beaks. Their cute little webbed toes are hidden beneath the surface of the water, but I know they're either tucked up into warm feathers, or paddling languidly. The seagulls pay no attention to me, but I am watching them. The tables have been turned. "The circle, as Joseph Bruchac writes, "is the way to see." In these warm feathered bodies, bobbing and drifing in the current, I see the natural world. I see a reflection and an interconnectedness. I see me.

I have always been fascinated with the seagull. As a little girl, liked the birds because I could throw my icky bread crusts overboard, and the loud birds would swoop in a for a meal, entertaining me and breaking the monotony of a day on the lake. I learned as a child that gulls are not picky; watching them scavenge on the shorelines for bits of fish skin, human refuse or even the living insects and water bugs showed me that these birds know how to make do with what they have.

Walk along the edge of any dump, landfill or polluted place, and there's the gull, loudly proclaiming himself king of all the things in the world that no one else wants. I've often wondered what, if anything, I can learn from these birds.

Once, while reading a book in a park in downtown Chicago, I'd set down the lemon bar I was eating, only to watch it slide away out of the corner of my eye, pages later. A craft gull had snuck in close behind me, nabbed the cellophane wrapper, and was slowly backing away from me with one eye trained on my face. It was the first time I'd even been so close to a bird like this, and I held my breath, not wanting to freak him out. I don't think he cared at all.. he scooted about two feet away, and looked up, then took his time pecking at my lemon bar. By that time, I realized I could no more offend him than he'd offended me, so I pulled out my cellphone and snapped a picture of him, in case no one believed me. Thankfully, my friends in Chicago "get" this kind of thing; one saw it as a message.

"You know, Mars, maybe the seagull is your totem animal."

Totem animal, huh? I'd heard of this concept, but hadn't felt like I'd even had an encounter with any animal to experience the coolness of this.

A totem animal, is, according to the Manataka American Indian Council, a spirit guide that may "teach us their powers and give as lessons of life (and these things don't necessarily have to be animals)."

Well, from that day on, I kept noticing gulls, all the time. Sure, they're all over Navy Pier in downtown Chicago, and I lived next to the lake on the North side, but even when I wasn't near water or trash or spilled food.. I'd see a gull.

There would be a magnet in a bookstore, a lighthouse with a bird atop it.

And one day, at home in Nebraska, I was feeding ducks at a small lake in the town where my mom works, and these gulls flew above me, and hovered there, caught on the wind current. Most of the flock moved on, but there was one gull in particular that kept riding the wind; he'd go higher, and move forward, then drop down and be pushed backward again, until he was above me yet again. It felt like this went on for hours, but it was probably no more than 60 seconds. There was this old dead tree behind him, and the way the sun was coming through the tree, dappled and reflected, broken into small squares of glittering, opalescent light, then landing on the bird's feathers, made me feel like there was more than woman and bird and wind involved in the moment. It made me feel like I was connected to something larger than the bird, or the sun or even that moment. It made me feel like all moments were the same and my entire life was as shot through with amber and gold and warmth as any life had ever been.

So what did the seagull mean? That a carefree, scavenging, wild attitude was always going to be part of my makeup? I guess I knew that already, but it was fun to see a similarity between me and the animal.

Since that time Raccoon has added himself to my cache of totem animals. Before I left Chicago for good, I'd been praying for a sign, and the night I first talked to my boss about possibly putting in my two weeks, a raccoon walked out of a dark street in front of me, and walked about 1/4 of a block home with me. Raccoon can often help people let go of things that no longer serve them.

I feel stronger ties and loyalty to Seagull, but it was really amazing to feel like I'd gotten the sign I was hoping for.

I know I am not alone in my kinship with animals in this manner; many indigenous peoples believe that there is power and connection and meaning in special animal encounters. For example, ancient cultures, such as the Mapuche, know that Puma and Jaguar are animals of power. Condor and Snake represent life and death and the great mystery surrounding us, and it is not uncommon for spiritual practice to invoke the names and strengths of these animals as needed. Even author Peter Coyote, who pays homage to his namesake in "Muddy Prints on the Mohair," calls upon the trickster spirit of the furred animal in both humor and contemplation.

"Coyote is the miss in your engine He steals your concentration in the Zendo… He is total effort. Any good afternoon nap. Best dancer in the house . The dealer and the sucker in a sidewalk Monte game. An acquaintance who hunts your power. The hooker whose boyfriend comes out of the closet while your pants are down. He's also the boyfriend…"

Seagull, too, is all of these things and more. He is the bird who flies with others but is not afraid to go alone. Seagull is like Gluskabe, or Ikitomi, depending on the tradition of story. He makes his home in any place, mates with anyone, finds what he needs to survive and knows how to go on. He is hated, cursed, studied, poisoned, diseased, make into cartoons and stuffed animals is stuffed and studied in museums and labs. Seagull is loud and annoying and always has something to say, like it or not or understand it. Seagull is also comfort.

I can't watch the birds bob on the water or pick through trash to this day without thinking of that day in Chicago or the moment in Nebraska at the lake. No matter where I am, what or who I encounter, I find a strength in these memories because I find a strength in seagull. I know I'm crass and loud and irritating and even animal in my actions at times. I don't so as far as theft of others' food, from behind their half-turned backs, but I know how to get what I need in order to function and survive. I am okay with going though the cheap-o bins at good will or the curbside junk left on the edge of my street corner. I am drawn to those who live likewise, the curious, the messy, the adaptable. We might be a stone's throw away from the edges of humanity and being pesky, pesty animals, but we are true to our animal nature. And for providing the example and reminding me to by myself, at all costs, I remain indebted to the seagull and the other guides who walk this planet.