My friend the blue jay
The morning after my cat died in April of 2014, I was sitting on a blanket in the a corner of the back yard feeling quite blue. After some time I looked up and noticed a robin, a squirrel and a blue jay nearby, watching me in silence. The jay seemed especially tuned to my sorrow, as though it knew what was meant by the fresh dirt patch where a candle had burned all night.
While the neighbourhood was home to many jays, I believe this one in particular sought me out after that first encounter. He began showing up whenever I was outside, perhaps prompted by the sound of the screen door shutting. I always greeted him with a smile and a few words about how beautiful he was. Sometimes he’d offer soft clicks or purrs while he waited for a piece of walnut from my pocket. If I was inside the house and he wanted to interact, he’d fly about in the tree near the kitchen window and look in to get my attention.
Then early on the 3rd of July this year I went outside to refresh the birdbath before leaving on a road trip and was stopped in my tracks by something out of place in the dawn’s half light. I inched closer, afraid it might be the remains of a blue jay fledgling that had been hanging around, unable to fly. But when I got up to it I could see it was an adult jay lying on its back, head upward and wings outspread, long tailfeathers fanned out below. It had very recently suffered a mortal wound to the chest.
Crop circle near Brandenburg, Germany. August 2015
And so it appeared that my friend the jay had lived and died as jays do. The image of his body on the grass was burned into my mind and each day I cried for his loss – and I’m not known for being weepy. A month passed and I was still in a deep depression when the whimsical crop circle at Brandenburg, Germany (left) appeared like a sympathy card from the universe. The bird in flight instantly made me smile. Though it didn’t erase the pain, this circle reminded me of the natural cycle of life and urged me to work on healing so I could move on with my own.
Not long after Brandenburg, another crop circle appeared, speaking even more directly to my painful experience and once again nudging me along in the direction of resolution. Hampton Lucy (below) was created by the linking of different consciousnesses in co-creative interdimensional communication as described by 2014’s circles and summed up at Ammersee. At Hampton Lucy, a painful image was plucked from my mind and transformed into a majestic, radiant, healing crop circle.
Image: Air Experiences
As with other messages directly from an Other Intelligence communicating with us through crop circles, multiple resonances abound at Hampton Lucy. For one, I first saw the Hampton Lucy circle while in the house in Plevna that is the “P” in the TIP Line, and more precisely in the same room wherein the goddess had appeared with her ancient incantation (and which is associated with the Clearbury Ring formation). The shape originated in my mind’s eye – which is the pineal waveguide – as well as in the mind’s eye of whoever or whatever put the circle in the field.
Hampton Lucy even cleverly revealed the jay’s killer: the neighbourhood owl that caught the jay unawares. Notably, the jay’s heart is the owl’s pineal, emphasising the importance of the heart+brain system that provides the electromagnetic juice for waveguide-driven consciousness.
STACE TUSSEL