On the small shrine on my writing desk is a white ceramic Bodhisattva with two dogs. I found her first and the bigger dog two summers later at the Flea Market in Waldport, Oregon. The tiny white plastic poodle with her is one of the only toys I ended up keeping from when I was a kid, my Barbie Doll dog.
I look at the three of them and it reminds me who I am, where my power rests. The feathers she holds remind me that softness is strength. It is also not lost on me that the same form that allows flight can also be dipped in a well of ink and used to write. The card I pulled this morning, a ten of cups, urged, “do not doubt this power.” This is who I am.