A few weeks ago, there was a robin moving from window to window of my house crashing itself into the glass. Google tells me he was fighting his own reflection, thinking it was another bird encroaching on his territory. This bird was essentially doing battle with himself.
I’m not trying to protect any territory, but it seems like I’ve been doing a similar kind of fruitless flailing lately. All the senseless violence in the world has had my mind spinning. Seems like I’ve moved through all the traditional stages of grief and back again several times. I have felt like a human version of that bird bashing its body into windows.
I cannot understand the brutality of things like mass shootings, women’s sovereignty over their own bodies being ripped from them, war for any reason, or the intentional devastation of our beautiful Mother Earth. And yet, I can. I know this ugliness is the result of our collective human consciousness. And I also know in my bones we are at the beginning of a shift in this consciousness, and I’ve chosen to be here on earth at this very time to do all I can to contribute to the turning.
Yet this is easy to forget. It is easy to get caught up in the politics, the arguments, the blame. It’s so incredibly easy to succumb to fear or to numb out. It’s also easy to get swept up in the chaos of our own lives–the personal challenges, the busyness, the distractions. We are Divine, yes, but also incredibly human. And because of this, it is so very easy to get knocked off balance.
When I notice this happening, it’s time to remember my essence. In Qoya, we say “remember your essence as wise, wild and free.” This resonates with me deeply. When I dance, I can feel it. And even when I’m not dancing, I can understand it. I can also remember this wise, wild and free part of me stays the same no matter what storm is swirling around me. It’s my center.
Let me be clear. This remembrance of center is not an escape plan. Rather, I’m leaning into the strength I must cultivate so I may make my contribution to the raising of the energetic vibration. Or to put it more plainly, to help create the world I want to leave to my grandchildren. If my mind is caught up in loops of fear and despair, I am powerless to lend a hand.
The Buffalo supermarket mass shooting occurred about the time the robin started knocking into the windows (as soon as the sun came up each morning, I might add). Then, of course, there was Uvalde. That was when I began to really get caught up in the swirling storm of world events. I noticed that my nervous system felt frazzled, I wasn’t sleeping well (partly thanks to my bird friend), and my mind was twisting with fear, helplessness and hopelessness.
Interestingly, I pulled an oracle card and the message on it was Slow Down. That pissed me off. I kept thinking, I don’t need to slow down! I have to get busy finding solutions! There was a voice in my head telling me that I wasn’t doing enough. Of course, the guides were absolutely correct. I was being urged to first get quiet, connect to my essence, find my center, then take steps forward.
So, I listened. I got outside where I always find sage wisdom. I slowed my system to match the rhythm of nature. I wandered on trails. I put my hands in the dirt and my toes in the water. I listened to the birds singing. I gazed at the moon. I also practiced yoga. I danced. I sat in circle with other humans who are trying to figure out how best to embody love. I began my day with seated meditation, journaling and writing down what I could remember of my dreams. I found a guided meditation on an app to listen to in the evenings. I wrote down things that I am grateful for. And when my nervous mind began chattering, I quieted her with slow, deep breaths.
Truth be told, all of these things are the tools I use on a regular basis. And when life gets rough, I double down. My mind is clearer now. I feel more peaceful. I’m ready to work toward solutions because I am strong at my center. I’m prepared to act from my heart rather than from my fear. I understand that doing my small part is doing enough.
My robin friend also seems to have calmed his nervous system. He’s no longer banging on my windows. Instead, has been helping his mate gather items for nest building.
There are now two nests sitting side by side in one of my highest windowsills. This feels like some kind of message about working together or caring for all the children, not just our own. In any case, it’s something I’ve never seen before. Just like the new kind of world we can co-create from a centered place.