What the Birds Taught Me Today
I’ve just returned from a week of holding space for beloved community by the water—five days of deep listening, rest, and collective breath. That water held our grief and our dreams. It reflected our radiance back to us. It was a soft mirror for the transformation happening just beneath the surface.
Coming back to New York, I walked into Central Park’s Ramble expecting familiarity. But the park had bloomed—wildly, irreversibly—in just one week. Tulips opened like prayers. Dogwoods stood taller. And I realized, so had I.
In that blooming, I met Earl, a gentle birder with eyes full of wonder. He gestured quietly toward a flash of red in the canopy. We stood in still reverence as a scarlet tanager—a rare, brilliant visitor—rested above us in silence. Its red body, black wings, and quiet confidence pulsed with presence. It felt like a benediction.
The Northern Flicker tapped its drumbeat on a nearby tree, reminding me of rhythm, of heartbeat, of patience. A red-tailed hawk soared above me, just as it had before I left. I saw it again as I exited the park, as if to say—I saw your becoming. I will keep watching.
Each bird carried a message. Each encounter asked me to notice:
The scarlet tanager—symbol of transformation through fire and light.
The northern flicker—a call to awaken latent gifts.
The red-tailed hawk—vision, protection, and divine timing.
And so, I offer this prayer, for myself and for you:
A Prayer for Transformation
May we remember that all that we touch, we change.**
And that even a single week of stillness can deeply shift us.
May we trust the beauty of unseen molting—
The shedding that must happen before the wings shine bright.
May the scarlet tanager remind us: radiance is not always loud.
It waits in high branches. It arrives in silence. It stays only if we do.
May the northern flicker drum open the parts of us we’ve silenced.
May it awaken patience. May it echo in our chests.
And may the red-tailed hawk circle us with clarity,
Lifting our sight line beyond the to-do list,
Above the noise,
Toward something holy.
May we breathe abundance with each step.
May we change with the season, and not resist the bloom.
** Octavia E. Butler
