Moonlore - Publisher's Essay
Red Hawk Down
"Realizing that visible bodies are only symbols of invisible forces, the ancients worshiped the Divine Power through the lower kingdoms of Nature....Every existing creation manifests some aspect of the intelligence or power of the Eternal One ...""
~ Manly P. Hall, The Secret Teachings of All Ages
I braked and swerved, dangerous to do on a curve, but what choice did I have? He stood there, unmoving: a red-tailed hawk, right in the middle of my freeway lane. Daring me? Or just dazed? He looked fine. As I passed in the outer lane, his eyes followed me. Mesmerized, I watched my rear view mirror. As soon as I passed, he strolled behind my car and disappeared. I pulled over and opened my door. He was gone. Just like that. Less than a minute. Mere seconds actually. Like a waking dream. A majestic visitation. Hawks are Wind Dancers, fierce and beautiful. They represent the joy of freedom and of a long, clear view. Red-tailed hawks have become my regular companions over the last few of years. They appear even in areas when they don't regularly visit. Others don't seem to notice their presence. As my grandson and I stood on the upper deck of the Getty Museum, five hawks wove through each other's circles off to our right. We were the only people who saw them floating on the updrafts. No one else looked up. The Hopi believe red-tailed hawks are eagles, special Spirit Messengers.
They remind my of my love, lost so long ago. Across his back flew an eagle, tattooed into my memory as surely as it rippled in rhythm with his muscles. How I miss him. I let him go, feeling lost even as I did so. My second-grade teacher wrote that I didn't seem to feel as if I belonged. I didn't. And eighteen years later, that same lack of belonging made me afraid to stay. And yet yearn to be with him still. Floating in cyberspace is a death certificate that might be his. I have not dared to make a final verification.
One morning, early, while walking in the park, a red-tail flew swift and low, mere feet from me. He swooped again at eye level, then climbed high. A second hawk, larger, joined his spiral dance. They rode the wind drafts, then fell, plummeting together, hundreds of feet, united in every inch, separating only when the earth threatened their very survival. A love dance, a mating, a privileged view of a private moment.
"The heart of my connection to the Goddess has less to do with what I believe happened five thousand years ago or five hundred years ago, and much more to do with what I notice when I step outside my door: that oak leaves fall to the ground, decay and make fertile soil. Calling that process sacred means that I approach this everyday miracle with a sense of awe and wonder and gratitude..."~ Starhawk
As one who has seen angels, I can attest to their light, their goodness, their love. They were at my father's death bed. Their presence created a profound experience that changed my view of life, death and love -- which is the driving force behind everything in the universe. And so I know the red-tails have a purpose when they visit me. They come to remind me to seek the mystery in ordinary experiences.
"If you talk to the animals, they will talk with you and you will know each other. If you do not talk to them, you will not know them, and what you do not know you will fear. What one fears one destroys."~ Chief Dan George
I hear the piercing cry of the red-tails and know they are talking to me. I look up, eager to see their dance, to see their writing on the sky. Through their eyes, I see clearer. They teach me to push the wind, to hover, to stretch my wings wider. They bring me back to love, lost so long ago and yet new forever.
Decades ago, I met my first red-tail. Barely more than fledgling, his wing was broken. He could not fly nor fend for himself. We stared at each other, he in the dirt, I mounted on my favorite horse. Once I was sure he was calm, I dismounted and gathered him up. Weeks later, his wing healed, he flew from my life. Years later, in the same canyon, I stopped again. Lying in the road was a female red-tail, unconscious but breathing. Again, a hawk rode with me, this time in the cab of my truck, gingerly settled upon my daughter's lap. Half way up the canyon, almost to the gates of the wildlife center, she woke and stood up but didn't leave my daughter's lap. She sat quietly while we parked, was just as patient as we carried her to the vet. Assured she would be fine, that they would free her in tomorrow's dawn, we left her there. I sometimes wonder if it is she soaring above my head.
My favorite horse is with me still, his golden coat barely dimmed with age. Horses taught me to communicate with other realms, to treasure the wind, to breathe the air deep, to smile at the sun and to value the water's caress. It is fitting both the horse and the hawk are with me today. I belong. I am fulfilled.
By Loretta Kemsley
Publisher/President
Women Artists and Writers International
Writer, Editor and Editorial Coach
Loretta Kemsley's Personal Portfolio: Women's Writings
http://lores.lair.moondance.org/