My Totem

There's a common feature in many indigenous religions called totemism. Totemism has to do with an individual or a tribe claiming some sort of solidarity with a particular species of animal. That animal then, in a sense, becomes their mascott. Hunting it is taboo, and the sight of it is a sacred experience. Perhaps you've heard of the totem pole? It's more than a tall tiki carving with depictions of fun furry critters. This is a monument to the animal(s) held sacred to the tribe.

I believe that a certain form of totemism is alive and well among us today. But in modern, western expression it may manifest itself differently. It might be those times when you get a rare peek of the sublimity of nature that moves you so deeply that you at least identify it as a reminder of the divine or the supernatural. For my wife, it's the rays that come through the clouds known as "the fingers of God". It could also be those moments where it seems divinity whispers through nature seredipitous secrets into your ear. Someone in my extended family died about a year ago, and she was very fond of birds (particuarly cardinals). Shortly after the funeral, her daughter saw a cardinal sitting and singing on the ledge of her kitchen window.

I must admit that I believe in these modern forms of totemism; because I believe that heaven and earth are related concentrically. And if the earth is subsumed within the circle of heaven then there must be windows to divnity all around us. If we are enveloped by Elysium, then we shouldn't be surprised by the occasional glimpse of ambrosial artistry emanating its enchantment in the trees, the clouds, the creek or the birds. My belief in today's totemism stems in part from my own experience, because I think I have a totem myself - the Sandhill Crane. I don't know exactly why, but I love to see and hear them. They bring to my mind the creator. Maybe it's their prehistoric, regal beauty that has me ruminating at the intersection of divinity and creation. Or maybe it's their trumpet-like call issuing from some deep preserved place in their primeval past that makes me think of a younger time, a time closer to our creation, closer to the breath that blew life into our dark, dead world. Whatever it is, I'm intrigued and inspired everytime I witness their avian effulgence.