Nine Hawks

When Elizabeth, Leslie and I left the house this morning, there were nine enormous hawks riding the drafts over our heads. We stood there, looking up, and Elizabeth danced around a bit to avoid getting pooped on.

Smart kid.

I was thoughtful.

Time is fleeting.

As I get closer to the 50 year mark, this becomes more and more apparent. Time doesn’t slow down for any one, and the world continues to change around me in ways that remind me of my mortality.

Elizabeth will be in high school before we know it. Already, she’s thinking about a car. Leslie’s head is full of a significant ex who was just diagnosed with lung cancer. How do you process that kind of information? I’ll tell you how. You do it carefully, and you keep it in the right perspective. You also forgive yourself for feeling relieved it isn’t you or someone very close to you who is sick.

All the astrological activity over the summer, the mercury retrograde, weirdness in Virgo, cosmic this and that … all the energy that has kept things either in stasis or compressed with great efficiency has been a mixed blessing. It’s mixed only because I spent time railing against it. It is my nature to be restless, but I have to admit this summer has slowed me down enough to reflect. Craziness at work had me so worked up, I wasn’t thinking at all. I created attachments and expectations to circumstances I have no control over, and then I reacted to them. Ironically, it turns out these are circumstances I don’t want control over, and once I realized why I reacted, I was surprised at how easy they were to let go. As a German friend of mine says after a good work out, “I got over it”.

This summer has given me time to listen, which is something I work on continuously. Good listening skills are easy to put aside when you’re in the thick of things. I’ve focused on listening more effectively to my daughter, to Leslie, to special friends, and to people at work. I’m listening to the silence between the words. I’m listening to my head, my heart, my thoughts, and my internal muse, Francine, who I sense is undergoing a transformation of sorts.

Overall, the muse had been quiet. I’ve started a few small art projects, only to put them aside, bored or suddenly uninterested. On the same note, I’m thinking about writing a book, and I’m jotting down notes. “Make it sellable,” Leslie advises, ever the pragmatic Taurean, and I listen. I wonder if Stephanie Meier kept that in mind as she pounded out the Twilight Saga on a laptop in her kitchen.

“I will write a novel about vampires, and IT WILL SELL!”

Nine hawks. Drifting.

The number 9 portends the highest level of change. It carries all the potential, preparation, and energy of the 8 numbers before it. It indicates that we’ve assimilated what we should have in a situation, and that appropriate change is occurring either in circumstance, perception or expectation. It indicates we have accomplished what we should have. Spiritually, the hawk is a symbol of air or the intellect. It has excellent vision, encouraging us to truly see what we are getting into. It’s a powerful hunter, as well, encouraging us to go after what we want, once we’re sure that we want it. Visually, it is a sight to behold, and as it effortlessly rides the air drafts, it reminds me to go with the flow.

Change is coming. Keep the eyes open. Pay attention. And chill out.

So, does this mean things will start to move along at work?

Or shall I write that book?

Perhaps something entirely unexpected will happen.

Either way, I’m ready.