🕊️ The Circle of Wings: A Story of Spirit and Release

The Little White Dog, The Lizard & The Spirit of Earth & Sky

The day began with a reading—a first offering, a first opening of the heart for Ave’s  “officially announced” new path of Attuned Communications. Unbeknownst to Ave, the day after the Offer Page went live, was the day a little white dog with a fierce heart, crossed the veil~and she would be called to be a tender witness to the circle of life in nature.

This pup’s grieving human guardian just happened to see this Ave’s offering from a post that happened to cross her screen the morning after the little dog’s transition.  In the quiet glow of the morning, this sweet lady’s request for a session from Ave to see if her pup was alright, and if he had any message he needed to convey.  The messages came through: a message of loyalty and love, of fierce independence and other ways this precious being moved through their world for 12 years together.  Ave’s heart was a vessel for it all.

Yet even as she closed the circle of words with her beloved first client, the earth had more to say.

The poodles, Juliette and Easton, were let outside into the golden heat of the day—the sacred rhythm of chase and pause, of lizard tails flickering under rocks, slate and straw. They were alive with the hunt, their paws stirring the ancient dance of predator and prey. And in that moment, Juliette emerged victorious, carrying in her mouth a prize that made Ave’s heart ache: a blue belly lizard, his small body glinting in the sun.  A beautiful, limp, full grown blue belly!

Ave watched this tender threshold, her heart full of respect. She coaxed the dogs inside, as Juliette did not want to give up what she was so proud to hold in her mouth.  This was her very first lizard she’d ever caught.  Ave saw the precious being’s limp form—no wounds. A perfect, and-dead lizard. Perhaps, she thought, he had died of fright—a small heart overwhelmed by the chase. She held his body in her hand, felt the cool stillness of scales, the beauty of his sunlit belly. She took a photograph to immortalize him: a final portrait of wildness and fragility cradled in her palm.  She stroked him hoping that maybe, he’d come back to life.  But no life stirred, so she brought him inside and sat on the floor with the poodles, both looking at what she held.  Juliette licked its face, he was after all, “hers” in her mind.  Easton just gave a quick sniff, as if confirming, “yes, that’s Juliette’s kill, not mine.”

She spoke to Juliette and Easton, her words a quiet, gentle and understanding prayer:

“He had a family my darlings, please let the lizards live. I know it’s fun to chase and catch the fast moving lizards, just like you like to chase squirrels, it’s in your nature, and I understand. And this little guy will not go home tonight. Please, let the lizards be.”

And she knew they heard her in their own way—Juliette’s dark eyes soft, a flicker of something deep passing between them.  Juliette locked eyes with Ave for several moments, and they were some very deep moments conveying an understanding.  Ave watched this tender threshold, her heart full—a moment of the circle of life in nature unfolding.

Ave thought to bury him in the straw, but her heart hesitated. She felt the pulse of the land itself, the quiet urging of Cheyana’s spirit—Cheyana who had always walked with her, who had once flushed lizards from the very same places.

So she walked outside into the open sky, the lizard in one hand, a small spade in the other. The fig tree watched in silence, its roots like an ancient prayer. But as she stepped into the clearing, the sky began to speak.

Two ravens appeared, black wings slicing the blue air, calling out in sharp, urgent cries. They circled overhead, their voices weaving an invisible net of meaning. As she stood in the clearing, they dropped lower and lower, louder still—they were delivering a message from the spirit realm itself.  Their calling grew louder and more urgent as they did a dance of ritual above where Ave stood, holding the lizard up in respect and silence, as was an offering to them.  The whoosh of their wings were so close, she heard the movement and FELT the shift in dimensions.

Then two more joined, and the circle of black wings grew to four. A full circle—north, south, east, west— the watchers of the threshold.  All of them were speaking.  The power of the four directions, earth and sky, trees and stone, sun and shade life and death, death and rebirth, all came together embracing Ave as she held up the lizard in reverence to the winged beings of the air.

And in that final moment, the turkey vulture arrived—a silent sentinel of the dying and the dead, gliding overhead with outstretched wings.  Ave felt the air alive around her, the power of that ancient cleaner of the earth’s bones. The ravens called in the vulture, the vulture circled and Ave saw it look down at her, and in the stillness of her own breath, Ave understood:

“Do not bury him. He will be nourishment.”

So she listened. She laid the lizard’s body down on the soft moss of the great granite rock—a resting place for the small soul to return to the cycle of life. A final gift of the earth to the sky.

The ravens called as she walked back to the house, their voices softer now—a chorus of approval, a blessing on her trust.  They circled her in the air above her, and through the trees escorting her back to her cabin sanctuary where they all knew she nested.  One more glance up at them in gratitude for their guidance and presence.

It was the same day she had asked Cheyana for a sign—a sign of her presence, a sign of the deeper weaving of spirit. Cheyana had come in the way she always did: through the rhythm of life and death, the hunt and the prayer, the small lives that flicker and return to the great breath of the world.

And Ave knew, as she laid the lizard down and walked back under the watchful circle of wings, that this was the sign she had asked for. A sign that her path is blessed, her heart is open, a sign of the circle of life in nature, of endings and new beginnings, and of the sacred weaving that binds all souls together.  The wild world is always speaking.  Cheyana gave her the sign that the little white dog had been escorted by her to the Spirit world and had a peaceful crossing and joyous landing.

This is the story she carries now: the circle of wings, the lizard’s final gift, and the quiet knowing that every soul—great and small—has its place in the dance.

Learn more about my animal communication and soulcraft offerings at www.aveguevara.com