Originally published in JMB Living Journal Spring 2022 edition.

At age 13, I asked for a sign, that everything was going to be okay. My mom was driving me from the hospital in urban Louisville, KY to school. My intuition told me he was going to die.

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My Dad loved to take the “scenic route” home. Whenever he picked me up from swim practice—he’d pull over and we’d watch the red-tailed hawk nest, his favorite, to see if we could spot one hunting prey for its young. My father taught me red tailed hawks are loyal birds. They mate for life and return to the same nest each year. They can see over a hundred yards away and live up to 14 years. He taught me how to differentiate between a red-tailed hawk, peregrine falcon, cooper’s hawk, etc. And most importantly, to see a hawk you must be fully present and that is one of the greatest gifts there is.

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Back in my mom’s car, thirty seconds after my request to the universe, a red-tailed hawk swoops down three feet in front of the windshield flying from the right to the left. Goosebumps stood up under my skin. Time stood still. My mom and I looked at one another. Then we both said, “Did you see that?!” 

A week later my father passed away. 10 days after my 14th birthday, the number of years a red-tailed hawk can live. Years later, I learned when a hawk flies to the left it means “Let go.” “Surrender.”  

The moment that red tailed hawk answered my prayer, marked the moment I began my awakening to serendipity, spirituality, and surrender. That life is a fragile feather. And the only way to show gratitude to life is to do what makes me come alive daily. And to surrender to each moment, especially the ones that are unpleasant. 

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Red-Tailed Hawk

My late father's appeared 
in every state I've lived, nesting
young in fields of Kentucky bluegrass,
resting on Manhattan scaffolding, eyeing me
on highway lamps posts in Tennessee.
And now he takes off

 again, soaring between mountains
here in New Mexico, his song
a high-pitched screech like a release
after years of screaming underwater,
saying. Don't worry bout them
rattlesnakes, sweetheart, I got you,
with one writhing in his talons

 Left to right he weaves 
folklore tales of victory. Floating
the world up there with his rust red tail
and white and chai striped feathers.

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The hawk has become more than a message from my late father. Although I can still hear him say, “that’s my girl!” and “I love you, sweetheart.”

As the years pass, the more I awaken to my true nature which is inextricably linked with Nature. I spot hawks almost every day. In many cultures, they are messengers from spirit and our ancestors. World of Birds says, “Hawks are reliable warriors of truth” and their high-pitched whistle invites us to clear our minds. If you keep seeing a hawk with white feathers, something very sacred is about to take place, and the Creator is giving you a message that a miracle is on its way.” Many times, the miracle is a blessing in disguise. 

To me the hawk has become a message that I am on path. To trust my intuition. Divine confirmation. To continue to practice patience, resoluteness, agility. A reminder to keep a bird’s eye view, to persevere and focus on what I do want and let everything else go…

*

Hawk hunts 
under blue or rainy skies, an admiral perched 
on treetop, scanning 
ground for rat or snake. 
Crow nor feisty finch 
can distract him. Then,
 in one blink, he dives 
down, open his talons, and crushes 
his prey’s skull as sudden as a shooting star. As swift as a snake sheds it’s skin 
as instantaneously as the bubble in my father’s brain 
popped.

Will I choose to adopt hawk’s view? Not rushing
seeing, everything is fleeting.

Change happens in one swoop.

*

Not a day goes by that I wish I could have dinner with my father just one more time. And yet, his death, the red tails, their wisdom have molded me into someone of depth. 

When was the last time a huge change occurred in your life? You had a baby, you discovered you were ill, you quit your soul sucking job to pursue your dreams, someone died, you asked for help…What do all these experiences have in common? They all happened in an instant. 

Awakening is a choice. One we must choose every morning upon rising to see how the sun sweeps through blinds and draws rows of possibility on the floor. Sometimes the truth we awaken to is excruciating and it is these times that mold us into a wise soul. Richard Rohr says surrender is “the prayer of Thy kingdom come; my kingdom go.” As I let go of my ‘plans,’ embody a bird’s eye view to make room for God, my life becomes magical. Now I coach others to heal their grief, release their trauma, and see their hardships as pearls of wisdom. And I love every minute of it.

Will you choose to stay present in the fire until you awaken to the blessing?