A week ago I began my morning ritual of greeting the new day by walking and breathing and listening out in my Circle of Stones sanctuary garden. Sitting on my “Angel Bench” steeped in the stillness and the glow of sun’s rays, a hawk landed on a nearby tree, two steps away. Gone the singing of the little birds greeting the new day, silence.
How odd I thought as the hawk proceeded to preen its wings and the fluffing its breast feathers letting the fresh winds blow through. This is the very image I imagine when experiencing Post Trauma triggering. This is a tool for shaking off, insulating one’s self from outside energy/stress. The hawk turned its back to me letting the warmth of sun’s golden rays shimmer spreading its tail feathers to full display. In the indigenous peoples dancing, often time they’ll dance the deer, the horse, fancy dancer (grouse, bird) and so on. This winged one was struttin’ its stuff, so to speak.
It would turn its head as to catch a glance at me. I met its eyes. Time passed as it hopped, climbed and circled the branches ascending the tree’s trunk. This was an extraordinary exchange and I as a ‘winged one” lover, especially hawks and eagles. Recognized I was being blessed or rather trusted. In time I decided I wanted to get my camera and document this visitation. Softly, I walked into my home only to discover my camera’s batteries lacked charge. I went back outside and hawk friend was gone.
Back inside I began my morning routine of checking emails and Facebook. Much to my surprise, my good friend and neighbor had posted several photos of this hawk from the night before.
Ali and Lisa I was just in my backyard (10a.m.) and this hawk messenger landed on a branch just an arm width away. All the singing birds in dead silence. I asked if it was bringing a spirit message..seemed like minutes it went about pruning under its right wing, it fluffed it chest down feathers (reminding me of shaking off PTSD tool); it turned its back to me and did a full display of its tail feathers. Took it as a powerful reflection of authentic vision and purpose. Amazing that you caught this picture outside my rose cottage. I quietly came in to get my camera, as hawk was comfortable walking and circling the branches of my tree. When I went back to get the picture it was gone and THEN HERE IT IS ON FACEBOOK. MAGIC I FEEL!
My friend wrote: Bird was so funny hopping and turning around on the fence.
Suzanne, this guy was checking himself out in your window last night. Right before the wind rain storm came through, he hung out on the fence then your trees for quite a while. It was fun to watch him.
How amazing! I had pictures of this unique bird. I posted a response on fb initiating a cascade of interest. Late I began a day lone effort to put my garden to bed for winter. Of course I also planted lots and lots of tulips, daffodils and crocuses. As I walked towards my angel bench there was hawk sitting next to angel enjoying lunch. Startled taking flight, a cloud of feathers scattered and that hawk literally tapped my crown with its feet and tail feathers even though I ducked down.
For the entire day this strange hawk stayed close. This was a first for me, such close contact with a wild bird. The next day Hawk was gone. Just like in 2012 when I experienced another phenomenal waking dream that involved Hawk where I was shown a way to dismantle the trigger associated with trauma, accidents, illness, war and injustice. In time I wrote the vision and have called it the PEACE WHEEL PRACTICE.
Being a spiritual healer, a shaman, a shapeshifter and a healer and a teacher; has demanded that I be willing to translate multiple realms of reality, consciousness using my own personal life experiences as the template. One of the first rules, commitments required of we who have these sacred spiritual gifts is to spend at least an hour a day in nature. Our homework is to become ONE with all the sweet Earth’s family and elements. Whether it be rocks, flowers, rivers, trees, four-leggeds, stars, fire, wind, winged ones, lightening, rain, sun, etc. using one’s extra-ordinary senses committed to commune and develop intimate relations. Ie. I heard the wind call my name. Won’t you come into my garden? My roses want to meet you. The earth sings her son through colors. We come from the stars and to the stars we shall return. Mother Earth is known as the Rose and all the diverse flowers represent her different essences. In a lightning bolt, life was different. Etc.
We are generators of a new culture for a sacred purpose and it is a divinely impassioned initiative. A basic philosophy where name and sound are the sacred activity in the search for wisdom that will change every human being who dares go near it. This unity of human with nature will transform any civilization willing to embrace it.
Remembering is simply a matter of re-collecting the essence of ourselves, of gathering our finest patterns into the present for the sake of the future.
My friend, David Skinner, is a falconer and became engaged in the discussion online of this unusual bird activities and close presence.
David thanks for your bird wisdom…yup my Circle of Stones garden famous for its birdfeeders and wild rose bushes. All day it was on the hunt in my yard. I thought it might be lost “tamed” hawk. Then I was going towards the hot tub and it was sitting on my angel bench enjoying lunch. It took off flew right towards me, I had to duck as it barely missed my head, tail feathers tapping my crown. Real close!
How cool! Since it doesn’t have jesses I doubt it is someone’s falconry hawk, but it is just a baby from this year and apparently it really likes you, your yard, and most of all your sparrows!
From what I can see it’s a Cooper’s hawk, thin tail, which gives it great agility in the trees, no wonder those little birds were all quiet. I love your story Suzanne and the synchronicity of the imagery caught by Ali. It was the first image I saw when getting on line this day. What a beautiful trio of power and love and wisdom we are.
“It’s just a baby” has replayed in my mind. That’s exactly where I feel we as a culture entering this Golden Age are at. We’re just babies and gone are fear based trainings, predatory energy patterns. Instead of instantly fleeing from human exchange, Hawk baby was filled with play, nourishment and enjoyment. Somehow that light or spark or aura glow is like a magnet, a trust magnet. Seen, felt and reflected back seen, felt.
Sometimes, when a bird cries out,
Or the wind sweeps through a tree,
Or a dog howls in a far off farm,
I hold still and listen a long time.
My soul turns and goes back to the place
Where, a thousand forgotten years ago,
The bird and the blowing wind
Were like me, and were my brothers.
My soul turns into a tree,
And an animal, and a cloud bank.
Then changed and odd it comes home
And asks me questions. What should I reply?
The creative dreamer does not return empty-handed. He or she is an explorer of the dream world, returning with a song, a dance, a cure, with information about the future, information about a distant place or with a new idea of some kind. Creative dreaming is universal.
The act of receiving, whether the gift is a song or pre-cognitive information, is the essential mark of a creative dream, a term describing both ‘paranormal’ dream experiences like precognition, dream telepathy and clairvoyance and songs, dances and ideas inspired in or by the dream.
Separating the ‘paranormal’ from the ‘normal’ is a sign of modern man’s discontinuity of experience, for the term ‘paranormal’ has no organic meaning: It is defined only by negation, by the withdrawal of successive material causes for an event until only the ‘impossible’, the ‘paranormal’, remains.
Among the Teton Sioux, Papago and Chippewa, the song/poem is not a work of art. Almost always the result of a dream, the song is ‘holy, an object of supernatural awe, and as such, an important instrument in the control of reality on the highest place’.
-Susan Hiller and David Coxhead, Dreams: Visions of the Night