The coyotes were out at three this morning, singing to the glorious Snow Moon, yipping to collect their pack members. It was a beautiful and terrible sound. Funny how, here we are, up to our eyeballs in urbanization, and yet the wildness always finds us.
This figure sits on my altar. My sister bought it for me in Solvang, CA—a quaint Danish village.
Coyote is resourceful, clever, a fighter, a survivor—all things to which I aspire. Its spirit is the one to which I align myself most closely. Coyote is my fear, my challenge, my inspiration.