Hummingbird

I was reminded of Hummingbird today.

A lovely woman came by with a man who has become a regular here at the coffee shop. We love seeing him enjoying the space, coffee in hand, just being here. She shared some of her experiences with Shamanism, including an immersive trip to Greece, and somewhere in the conversation she mentioned Hummingbird.

"For me," she said, "Hummingbird represents joy."

I smiled.

At that very moment, I was holding my eight-month-old grandson, Elias. He was perfectly content just listening to us talk and watching the strange man making movements with his arms. Elias seemed to understand something was happening, even if he didn't understand the words.

And instantly, I remembered my own learning about the archetype of Hummingbird.

In the Q'ero lineage I was taught, Hummingbird is held in the North—the place of the Ancestors and the Ancient Ones. Hummingbird is the one who reminds us to drink deeply from the sweetness of life, to trust the journey, and to remember that, somehow, everything is exactly the way it should be.

I spent about a year greeting the North and calling in Hummingbird every evening.

Not every time I called on Hummingbird did I want everything to be exactly the way it should be.

That sentence would stop me every single time.

What was it about right now that I didn't want?

Was it hard?

Was I feeling fear?

Worry?

Anger?

Sadness?

As a psychotherapist who has spent decades studying emotions, I've come to realize that we tend to label feelings the way society labels them—good or bad—instead of simply seeing them for what they are.

Signals.

Information.

An invitation to pay attention.

It's often not the feeling we struggle with. It's our belief that we shouldn't be feeling it in the first place.

As I spoke about Hummingbird today, I realized I needed that reminder again.

Even now.

In this slow process of building a place.

Building a community.

Building a practice.

Creating art.

Being a wife.

Being a mom.

Now being a grandmom.

Being a baker.

I could keep going.

Life is expanding in amazing ways. I believe there are so many signs of what I would call success.

Yet there are contractions too.

Parts of my life that are getting smaller.

Parts that are harder to navigate.

If I'm really honest...lessons I still need to learn.

So I take a deep breath.

Okay...probably more than one.

(It's really the exhale that's the magic part. Slow your exhale and your brain gets the message that it's safe.)

Then I remind myself of the gratitude I have for all that is part of my life.

The place I get to live.

Being the steward of this land.

My expanding family.

My expanding circle of friends.

My expanding community.

The gratitude matters when life feels hard.

But so does connection.

I believe we heal in connection.

Which brings me to an invitation.

I'm hoping to begin a monthly Moon Gathering here at the farm. If you're even remotely interested, send me an email at crystal@theriverrunsthrough.com. I'd love to know you're out there.

And if groups aren't your thing...

That's okay.

You don't have to come to a gathering.

You don't have to buy coffee.

You don't have to buy anything.

You're welcome to come and sit.

You're welcome to walk our trails.

You're welcome to have a conversation.

Depending on the day, that conversation may even include a walk with Sir Kitty.

I believe we are all connected, no matter what you've been taught or what it feels like right now.

We support ourselves by supporting each other.

So come for a bit.

Stay awhile.

See what finds you.