My whole body felt toxic from greasy 'town' restaurant food, and the 5:30 AM departure dictated by yesterday's, Bad Weather, flight cancellation. With little sleep and anxiety over our 'try', my body filled with adenaline. Just forty minutes to go and I'd be home; I kept looking at my watch trying to be anywhere but in this plane. Lurch, bounce, surge, drop! We cleared the town of Ketchikan and made our way over open ocean, a longer but more reliable routing and with less turbulence. I uttered a small prayer of thanks.
Overnight, temperatures had dropped; rain had turned to snow and draped the hundreds of inky green, cedar spired, islands in a soft blanket that extended to and wrapped around the shorelines as if to lift them from the ocean. Looking down, from the smudged plane window, the tiny islands floated above the dark, silvery-indigo North Pacific waters.
In this region of scattered, isolated small Native villages, electifying news was spreading. A White Raven, not an albino, but one with blue eyes had been spotted in the Queen Charlotte Islands. Until this time everyone thought the White Raven, creative spirit, existed only in the realm of ancient time and oral history. The islands were abuzz with the implications. What could it mean?
My Raven reverie was broken as we hit a cloud, heavy with moisture. The whole world went white. I was scared - what if we hit a mountain? But it was so still and peaceful. Something shifted, a sense of hyperalert reverence came over me. Softly, imperceptibly, yet instanteously, the cloud became shimmering luminousity and filled the cabin with light. Unseen the sun had arrived. Dawn, the clouds parted and I beheld the colors of creation infusing the seascape below. Like cellophane wrapping, lavender, pink and finally gold sirrus surrounded the waters and islands that reflected the colors back, as if willing, with every fiber of being, to give back, to say, YES, to life. Tears slipped down my face as I whispered, White Raven, I love you.