One thing about having chickens - it forces me to go outside in all sorts of conditions. Cold mornings I wouldn't normally step foot outside - I'm outside changing water, feeding Polly to keep him from crowing and waking up the neighbors.

Today as I walked back to the coop with my bowl of oats and kitchen scraps, the snow was falling and the yard muddy from the rain the day before. I paused in my tracks at the sounds of dozens of black crows as they swooped around me. Stark black against the white snow. 

Where there are crows there is magic.

In Shambhala tradition, this magic is called Drala. *"Discovering drala is to see with the heart, so that what is invisible to the eye becomes visible as the living magic of reality. The possibility of magic is always there. Drala is not something mysterious, but rather a connecting to the wisdom of your own being with the power of things as they are."

We are steeped in the sacred - surrounded by magic. I am so grateful for the crow's reminder. 

*Shambhala The Sacred Path of the Warrior" by Chogyam Trungpa