Behind The Name “Not Only Eagles Fly”

I once owned a small ranch with several pastures separated by wood lots and bordering a river. One of the seasonal jobs in our climate was to clip those pastures once or twice during the growing season. This meant that on those days, I would spend six or eight hours riding on my tractor. Once, I nearly mowed over a new fawn whose mother had stashed him, in what she thought was a safe place. That kept me wide awake for a while!

Frequently I would need to replace a broken shear pin, but mostly I had to learn enjoy the beauty of the place and the value of my own thoughts. A Golden Eagle kept me company in one pasture. He sat at the top of his favorite evergreen and would watch me for hours. A Bald Eagle hunted the river and I could watch him do that from another of the pastures. I learned to value the eagles as my companions.

Years later, I learned that the eagle is a symbol of the Spirit. “Fly like an eagle” can mean to soar above one’s material self into the spiritual world. I do not know very much about astrology but the symbol of my sign is the Scorpion. I read someplace that the evolved sign of the Scorpio is that of the Eagle. I am not there yet, as I do still “sting” once in a while, but I do like that symbolism.

Before I began to learn about the symbolism of eagles, however, I began to write. I had something I wanted to say and I wanted to name it to give substance to my thinking. No matter how often I thought about it, no titles came to me until finally, I realized that I could use some outside help. I set aside time and shifted my consciousness as I had been trained to do. This is the story of the “Vision” I received:

I was walking on a trail, or a hiking path. A voice told me to return to a village I had visited before in the Dreamtime. I was told to go to the home of the village Shaman. A young boy was waiting for me at the edge of the village and he took me to the shaman’s tent. It was made entirely of white buffalo hides, decorated with eagle feathers and lit from within by a sacred fire.

I stood uncertainly before the closed tent flap, not knowing what to do. Certainly you can’t knock without a door. Do you say hello? My culture had not taught me the proper protocol for this situation; I felt confused and uncomfortable.

The prolonged silence was ended by a sharp command that instructed, “You may enter”. I bent my head and pushed through the flap.

The light of the fire riveted my attention as it glowed with a surreal brightness. The light of the fire obscured the periphery of the interior space. Somewhere from the darkness, beyond the light of that supernatural fire, came a deep voice:

The title of your book will be, Not Only Eagles Fly“.

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