My Hawks

For most of my life, I’ve envisioned two hawks perched on my shoulders. I don’t remember precisely when they appeared; certainly when I was a child navigating my tension-filled home. Much of that history is lost to blockage still, my father’s volatility and my mother’s survival skills visible to me only as peaks of experience emerging through a cloud cover, seen from a great height. I have realized recently it’s been the hawks who have kept me lifted above all those traumatic memories, and it’s only recently that I’ve begun to really make their acquaintance and honor their role in my life.

I can see now that they have kept me protected, shielding me from danger on more than a few occasions, acting as the connection I’ve needed between this material plane and the spirit world, the quantum space that is my true reality. My meditation practice, more than 1,300 days of steady dedication as of this writing, has shown me that it’s the hawks who have been my protectors, their wings shielding me to keep me safe from harm. Sometimes they guide me by leaving their perches on my shoulders and beckoning me to follow their flight paths. Other times they have carried me where I needed to go, to see and experience the things I have needed in order to grow and heal and evolve.

They have been my pathfinders, my guides, as I have traversed this world and the sacred realms of the quantum field. They are Beings of Light, energy vectors, sacred symbols come to fruition in my life.

We do not communicate other than by thought and feeling. Most times their perch is effortless, but sometimes I feel their talons digging into me – a sign that I need to return to the Eternal Present Moment, a reminder that the Moment is all there is, the only path to travel. When I feel that pressure, brought upon by fear or doubt or worry, I’m reminded to step back, surrender, and let my breath guide me to regulation. They serve to remind me that I don’t really know much of anything. I have reserves of memory from my experiences, and some of them have transmuted into wisdom, which means I can recall those memories and not feel shame or guilt or the pain of regret or remorse. In those instances of transcendence and growth, I know now it’s been the hawks that have moved me upward on the evolutionary scale, flying me to higher branches on the Tree of Life.

When I see my hawks in dreams or during a meditation, I recall a childhood memory from my home in South Texas. It was October of 1970, the stubborn humid weather of the summer clawing to keep its stranglehold on the region. A cold front, the first of the early autumn, had just blown through, and in the mid-afternoon, I and the other neighbor kids free ranging outside witnessed a magnificent sight: thousands of hawks, clearly visible and lazily spiraling by on the thermal currents rising from the ground. They just soared by, barely needing to flap their wings, riding the invisible waves of air and energy propelling them southward. I recall the little neighborhood where I lived being spellbound by the sight – workers from the county substation across the street from my house stepping out of the office, housewives stepping onto their porches in wonder, younger kids running down to a vacant lot at the end of the street, looking up at the huge eucalyptus trees on the edge of the lot where some of the birds alit for a moment to rest before continuing. It was magical, truly a natural wonder like I’d never seen before.

The whole episode lasted perhaps 20 minutes, and then they were gone, heading to their winter habitat in Central and South America.

I have seen many hawks since that time, both in urban and rural settings. They remind me to be clear eyed and aware, to see the bigger picture in whatever situation I find myself. They offer me guidance and protection, modeling resilience, resourcefulness, and adaptability to changing circumstances.

And the two hawks on my shoulders? They are messengers from the spirit world, reminding me that I am an eternal soul, living a human experience. When I sense them and their guidance, or see one of their brethren on the wing, I’m reminded to release my very human need for control, and to relax. They tell me to trust the path on which they are leading me, and most importantly they remind me of this truth:

I, too, have the ability to soar.