I collect feathers everywhere I go. They are placed on my walls, in my car, hats, hair, picture frames, etc. They stand out on the ground to me because I know that’s not where they belong. Fallen feathers from the wings of those that soar above the trees. A feather isn’t just something that falls out of a bird, it means much more. Native American Indians believed that the feather symbolized trust, honor, strength, wisdom, power, freedom and many more things. I find great beauty in every feather, even those from a crow or a buzzard. The delicate and many intricate designs is an example of natures amazing artistry. Its beauty can not compare to its durability and purpose. Feathers are very much the same as the wing of a butterfly. What appears to be fragile will endure and defy the odds we assume are against its capabilities. I like to believe the feather represents many of us.
I am not native american but I do respect and admire their culture and how their ancestors lived their lives. I see truth and wisdom in many things they have left behind for us to follow if we choose. The next time you are out for a walk and see a feather, stop and pick it up. See the beauty of its entirety. Place it somewhere to remind you of the many places it flew above the trees defying its appearance. Something so soft and gentle is able to soar so high with such agility, strength and power. I am a fan of the feather and all of its colors, shapes and sizes.