cross of invocation

Yesterday afternoon I was out at the barn, enjoying the sunshine, the mid-forty degree temps, and the sight of four horses and two miniature donkeys soaking in the sun. Although it is still a bit of a mud-fest in the paddocks and high-traffic areas, they had nice hay, clean water, and good company.

My daughter had just shown me something neat - a number of hoof prints in a muddy patch that had filled with water and then frozen. When you stepped into the print, the ice made a satisfying crunch and interesting patterns.

There was nothing monumental about the afternoon, but it held a sense of peace and a good feeling that is, I suppose, easily missed if you're not paying attention.

I happened to look up, and a jet had made a sign in the sky. For years I would see what I call giant runic crosses in the sky, and my habit was to take each of them as a good omen, a sign of fulfillment and good things. I haven't seen as many of those in the past year, which doesn't mean things aren't good, but perhaps that I no longer need the symbol to remind me.

Yesterday's giant symbol was one I'd never seen before. I enjoyed it in the moment for what it was, feeling blessed in some way and also intrigued that as I continued to work in the barnyard, the entire symbol floated east in the sky.

Later in the evening, before dark, I was answering someone's question about an arthritic protocol for horses I'd mentioned on a forum, typing that it was something I'd looked into for Salina. I ended up on the phone with my husband, talking through the whole thing again, thinking about whether this medication is something we should go ahead and try for her, even though most of the time she seems to be fine, given her age and the condition of her knees.

Just about that moment I heard a commotion in back, and looked out the glass doors just in time to see Salina galloping in from the back field, leading the herd, bucking and kicking up her heels like a young filly. Rafer Johnson and Redford, her Donkey Guard, were bringing up her flank, one on either side, doing their fanciest donkey trot with heads turning right and left, like young officers in a magical and elite formation.

"I guess she doesn't need that medication just yet," I said into the telephone, and then marveled at how she always seems to sense my worry and does something to reassure me.

This morning I went in search of the symbol from yesterday's sky, and found that it's called a "cross of invocation."

It was often used to mean "take this medication with a blessing" - and has made me think today that sometimes all the medicine we need can be found by simply looking.

A giant mark in the sky, a galloping black mare, ice in a hoof print.