The conversation is full of wandering ideas.
"When I was six, a crow followed me home; just walked behind me," you say.
"Maybe the crow is your totem animal," says Bek. "Your spirit guide."
"Native peoples found their totems by fasting, or solitary quest," she says.
"Fasting? . . . Questing? I guess that leaves out, you know, modern man."
"No, your totem follows you. It turns up unexpectedly, like on a mug, or a piece of art that strikes you, or invasion of a dream, and it might not be an animal you love, maybe even one you fear. It's a part of you that you don't choose; the animal just seems to be around an awful lot."
"Come to think of it, crows do pop up a lot. Like that one rasping loudly by my window when the clock died and I had to catch a plane."
"Crows are a strong totem, an intelligent mob; they warn you of things. And if you have the crows you might also have wolves. They're both explorers."
"Maybe that explains the howl I heard out on Oregon's sage ocean . . . Wolves were gone; they had vanished, but recently a few were released in the wild. Only a few. Yet we almost met . . . I guess it makes sense, out on lone wolf roads, but it's hard to figure the crows."
"Yeah, crows are hard to pin down. Sometimes they are trickster gods, or symbols of death, even creators of the world, take your pick. Often just a pain in the ass."
"Not sure about the crows. I meet more ravens than crows lately. Ravens stayed in the wild, while their foolish cousins went to live in the city, and all of its walls . . ."
"Strange, so many walls, and no right angles in nature," Nick mumbles as the conversation pauses.
Then Bek starts into a long talk about stars and planets. She says their position in space when you're born determines your course, but you never understood this. Too many roads out there. And all toward predestination, apparently.
Type of Feedback Desired: General