Although my symptoms continue constricting my life experience to the bare-bones essential, vibrant life still streams through my study windows. Through one of them, male cardinals have flitted among branches of the summer snowflake viburnum, possibly scouting a suitable place for a nest—Seems like they did that last year.

This morning, two females, their beaks filled with a single twig and bleached grasses, hovered over the designated site, dropped their loads, their getaways, a flurry of reddish-browns. Indeed, another nest is in progress. That also means yellow-mouthed fledglings, anxious feedings—insects, partially digested earthworms, around the clock.

The return of mating cardinals in my backyard also carries spiritual significance, especially as my end-time plays out.

With their reddish plumage, they stir deeper courage facing life’s challenges. They also serve as spirit guides, as models for embracing instinctive obedience to cyclical cues of life, and for activating the root chakra, red in color, that brings up emotions and beliefs around loyalty and a sense of belonging. 

Cardinals’ mating for life speaks of God’s unconditional love for all creation. They can also show up as a positive omen for finding your soul mate or twin flame, any time during the life span. 

Never having experienced death in my body before, other than obvious signs of aging, I’ll be specially companied during the coming weeks. I’m deeply moved …