Between Earth and Spirit: My Dance With the Tiger, the Eagle, and the Bees

Some dreams don’t fade. They remain like old friends, like ancient guides that appear when our soul is ripe enough to listen.

I remember it clearly — the first day I returned home to the Eastern Cape last December. I wasn’t sleeping. I was simply lying down, mind adrift, talking to my late sister’s son. The house was quiet. That kind of silence that hums, you know? Then, in a flash, I was no longer in bed. I was somewhere else entirely. I was standing on the green lawn just outside the yard. I saw myself dancing… spinning. Slowly, the ground below gave way and I began lifting… floating… spiraling into the air.

There was no fear. Only awe. I kept telling my mind, “Let me look again. Let me be sure.” And as I did, I was indeed spiraling upward — and below me, a swarm of bees mirrored my movement, spinning in unison under my feet. Not chaotic, not aggressive — but intentional, sacred, like guardians of a realm I had only just entered. I didn’t ask for meaning. The moment was the meaning.

That dream — or visitation — stayed with me. It followed me into the days that came after, as if something inside me had been reawakened. And now, as I sit with pen in hand, heart open, I see how this moment connects to two animals that have always walked beside me: the tiger and the eagle.

The Tiger: Keeper of Mysteries

I used to dream of tigers. Big ones, sometimes playful, other times fierce. I even got a tattoo of one — its jaw wide open, mid-roar — long before I knew what it meant. At the time, I thought it was just an obsession. But later, I learned that my family’s totem is rooted in the feline — that in our lineage, the big cats are not just animals, but spiritual kin.

To me, the tiger represents a part of myself I had forgotten: the wild, instinctual, raw feminine power. The tiger is the night guardian, the silent stalker, the protector of deep truths. When she appears in dreams, I know I’m being called inward — to trust my gut, to stop taming myself for others' comfort.

In the old ways, the tiger was feared and revered. To have it as a totem is to carry mystery and magnetism. People may not understand you. You may walk alone. But you see — and more importantly, you are seen by forces greater than this world.

The Eagle: Messenger of the Heavens

And then, there’s the eagle. Ukhozi. The one who flies closer to the Creator. Even as a child, I was drawn to it. Still am. If the tiger is the soul’s fire, the eagle is its breath — wide, calm, divine. Where the tiger dives deep, the eagle rises above.

For years, I’ve wanted its wings inked on my skin. Not just because it’s beautiful — but because I feel it watching me. Guiding me. Reminding me that there is more to this life than the mundane. The eagle teaches elevation — of thought, of vision, of frequency. It carries prayers from earth to sky. It sees far ahead. It never second-guesses its flight path.

And in my own life, during moments of confusion or grief, I’ve often felt that invisible push: “Look higher. There is more.”

And Then Came the Bees

In that dream — no, that vision — the bees came without warning. They didn’t sting. They danced. They formed a spiral beneath me. A sacred geometry. I’ve since come to understand that bees are messengers too. Not just of honey or sting — but of the collective, of order, of creation.

Bees are often linked to the Divine Feminine. They speak of royalty, sacred duty, spiritual sweetness, and soul rhythm. In that moment, as they spiraled with me, I felt like they were activating something ancestral — something cosmic. As though they were saying: You are not just flesh. You are not just dreamer. You are a channel, a bridge between earth and star, instinct and spirit.

The Spiral: Sacred Motion

The spiral is no coincidence. It’s the oldest symbol of spiritual growth. It mirrors our galaxies, our DNA, our breath. When I spiraled upward, I wasn’t just moving in space. I was ascending in awareness. This is the language of elevation — the soul’s upward dance.

Incorporating all these — the tiger, the eagle, the bees, the spiral — has made me realize that nothing I’ve felt or dreamt has been random. These are signs. Symbols. Guides. Every tattoo, every dream, every instinct has led me to this very knowing.

And You?

Perhaps you're reading this thinking, "Wow, that’s wild." Or maybe you're remembering your own visions — the quiet signs you've ignored or forgotten. Let this be your reminder: your spirit is always speaking. Through dreams. Through animals. Through the way your body reacts when truth is near.

We are not just here to exist. We are here to remember.