Whispers of the Wind: Nature’s Lessons for Black Spiritual Resilience

Some of my friends call me a mystic. Some may think I am crazy when I share what I believe. I have written about Mysticism on multiple occasions. You can search my other blog posts to see what I have said about it in the past.

Click here for my posts about Mysticism.

No matter how others may feel about me, I believe the tenets of the Creation Stories in Genesis 1&2. However, I see them from the spiritual perspective of the African Diaspora. I believe that we (humanity) are a perfect blend between Divinity and Mother Earth. I believe that if we tune in to the Nature Frequency, we can witness messages from the Divine. I like to practice this by sitting on my front porch to watch and listen to the sounds of nature, especially the birds.

I believe that seeing a Cardinal is a spiritual event where a loved one is sending us a message. When I see a Cardinal or a Blue Jay, I immediately start smiling and say, “Hello Ancestor.” I recently told some of my friends that I had a spiritual experience with a Cardinal last week while sitting on the front porch. Now, I will tell the story of what was experienced.

I shared this video of one sitting in a tree and singing on Good Friday. I remember telling Tiffany that I was able to get a close up of this bird. As the wind was blowing, the bird was sitting there unbothered singing its song. I remember the peacefulness of sitting there enjoying the sight and sounds. Remember what I said about the Cardinal representing an ancestor? If so, keep reading.

I didn’t think much more about the significance of the video. But on Easter Sunday, Tiffany got the dreaded phone call that we knew we would receive, just not this quickly. Her mom called her to tell her that Mr. Harvey (Tiffany’s Father) had made the transition to the Land of the Ancestors. She also told us that he had left this world on Friday. Yes, Good Friday. It was a hurtful moment in time. We hugged each other and shedded our tears.

When we had time to gather ourselves, the thought hit me about the encounter on Friday afternoon. Could it be? Was the visit from the Ancestor via the Cardinal a sign to remind us that Mr. Harvey’s spirit is now at peace? Was it a sign that this great soul who had loved us with all of his being was now singing songs of joy with all those other loved ones who are at peace? You may not think so. But I do. I take comfort in this physical event having spiritual implications because of my mystical thoughts and the timing of this event. If you do not believe, consider this. Think about what I just wrote and then rewatch the video.

May we live our lives in the present in such a way that we are remembered and honored in the future by generations to come. Now, I leave you with this poem from the great ancestor.

When Great Trees Fall

Maya Angelou

When great trees fall,

rocks on distant hills shudder,

lions hunker down

in tall grasses,

and even elephants

lumber after safety.

When great trees fall

in forests,

small things recoil into silence,

their senses

eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,

the air around us becomes

light, rare, sterile.

We breathe, briefly.

Our eyes, briefly,

see with

a hurtful clarity.

Our memory, suddenly sharpened,

examines,

gnaws on kind words

unsaid,

promised walks

never taken.

Great souls die and

our reality, bound to

them, takes leave of us.

Our souls,

dependent upon their

nurture,

now shrink, wizened.

Our minds, formed

and informed by their

radiance, fall away.

We are not so much maddened

as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of

dark, cold

caves.

And when great souls die,

after a period peace blooms,

slowly and always

irregularly. Spaces fill

with a kind of

soothing electric vibration.

Our senses, restored, never

to be the same, whisper to us.

They existed. They existed.

We can be. Be and be

better. For they existed.

Poem Credit: Poems.com