Vision Quest Medicine

The spirits have been sending me a lot of medicine before and after my vision quest to help me let go of my ego self and connect with Creator.
One morning I came across a beautiful brown, orange, and gray horned toad while weeding.  It stayed very still – its strategy of survival being to remain unnoticed.  I was fasting in preparation for vision quest, so animals I encountered were likely to be more significant than usual. Shutting my eyes, I reached out inside to see if it had medicine for me.  I felt warmth from its spirit.  It told me that a largely unknown and unnoticed life can also be powerful and worthy.  Perhaps this describes my life and the lives of many others; that despite ordinariness and obscurity, we still may serve highest good.
The week before I went out, I was lying on the bench by the sweat lodge looking up at the night sky.  A meteorite flashed overhead, southeast to northwest, terminating in a white flare.  A couple nights later, it happened again, this time burning up in bright, alternating flashes of blue and white.  I’ve meditated about this, and it seemed to be telling me there is an external trajectory of events in the world, and there is little I can do about it other than accept and be of service wherever possible.
After getting back from vision quest, I felt lost.  Charlie refers to it as being “lost in a trackless desert.”  He loves it.  Lack of a self-constructed mental roadmap feels very uncomfortable to me, but if I want greater oneness with Creator, I know I need to live that way too.  
Shortly after my return, I was weeding the playground at a Flagstaff church, when I heard crows cawing in the trees.  I looked up.  About eight feet away, a crow sat on a plastic retaining structure, looking at me.  I felt an intense, unreasonable, love from the crow’s spirit.  A few nights later, feeling a little down, I went out to the lodge to say hello.  The night was cloudy, and very dark.  Any animal could jump out and grab me, but I didn’t care, and none did.  I felt an unusually strong sense of love coming from the lodge.  The spirits must have thought I needed encouragement, and I was grateful.
Our house is up for sale, and a couple from Maryland – my home state – came to look at it.  It had been raining, which reminds me of the weather back east.  My desire to move back east got out of its box.   Creator was probably bringing this up to help me get over the delusion that worldly circumstances can substitute for God.  If I have connection with Creator, it doesn’t matter where I am.  If I don’t, than no place will suffice.
It has been raining a lot.  I went for a walk in Young’s Canyon a couple days after an especially hard rain.  All the rooted vegetation was flattened in the mud, pointing downstream.  Debris was everywhere, piled up behind trees and along the banks. Long grooves in the mud showed where the water had dragged great logs.  Raging floodwaters clearly had filled the canyon wall-to-wall.  I figured the tank about a mile upstream had blown out. I wanted to check out that theory, but my ankle hurt. Instead, I stood in the grove of pine trees where I did my vision quest last year.  Among the mud, sticks, and logs, the trees stood silently, radiating power from the spirit world.  The spirits are showing me something, I thought.  What does it mean that this great flooding and disruption has occurred, but the spirit world is undisturbed?
The Padre Canyon area is a deeply peaceful and undemanding place.  Walking around usually bestows no additional rewards because everything is all the same.  Charlie and I sat next to a small juniper tree and a little weed covered with sharp seeds.  They both emanated the friendliest possible good will.  Charlie always elicits an amazing amount of this from plants.  It was lush and green from the rains, and very quiet, with little birds chirping, and the occasional chirr of a grasshopper and buzz of a fly.   My soul unwound.  Three small clouds floated in the deep blue sky in front of us.  “Those clouds are trying to tell us something,” I said, “but I don’t know what.”  The clouds then reduced to two.  I resumed gazing about.
“Look up,” Charlie said.  I did, and there was only blue sky -- the clouds were gone.  “It’s like us,” he said.  “We’re not the people we used to be.”  Then he added whimsically, “We’re blue-sky people.” It was true.  The spirits were pointing out to us that our worldly attachments -- characterizing the early intensity of our lives -- have mostly ended.
The spirits know what issues cause me problems.  I was out hanging clothes on the clothesline, when a dove flew over and pooped on my head.  Fortunately, I was wearing a hat.  This has happened to my truck often, but never directly to me.  I have read that birds have no control over when and where they release their cloacae.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I was being told to not take the things people do personally.
One morning while performing dawn ceremony, I heard a young elk calling and an adult bugling.  A mother and baby walked through the yard.  My sense of this medicine was of confident, happy, strength.  I have been worried about how Charlie and I will cope as we get older. If the spirits say we should be feeling differently, however, than it must be so.