Renee Prince used to be a marine biologist. Now she works as an artist on movies and TV series. We’ve used her synchros before – in our books and here on the blog. This one involved Tennerin, a hawk with whom she shared a special friendship. This past autumn, Tennerin failed to appear in trees near her home for the first time in years. She’s writing a book about their friendship.
I just wanted to share this with someone. I’m still glowing from this synchronicity. This is an excerpt from today’s Hawk Diaries:
This evening, I am writing to capture and remember the wonderful experience I had at the park today. It was 3:15 or so when I set out, and I had just called Tennerin’s name for the first time, once I got into the park on the big field. A hawk could be seen swerving toward me over the river, but it turned back to the water and continued out of sight, in spite of my calling a second time. I hadn’t seen any hawks for over a week and I hoped I would see it again when I got to the big hill in the center of the nature preserve and called. I did call from the top of the hill but saw no hawks.
On my walk, I was listening to a podcast of the TED Talks radio hour, a show about where creativity comes from, and as I set out down the hill Elizabeth Gilbert (author of Eat, Pray, Love) came on. I had heard this particular talk before some months ago, and I almost decided to stop the playback and choose the next show down on the podcast list, but I was busy looking for hawks so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to hear it again. As I reached the center of the grassy bowl in the middle of the woods and stood looking at the trees, Gilbert began talking about the people of the Sahara desert who had danced for a thousand years to call down divinity. When a dancer connected with the divine, it could be seen in the beauty and power of the dancer, who became more than himself—he was infused with divinity.
When people watching the dancer saw this, Gilbert was saying, “They call out ‘Allah! Allah!’” Just then a beautiful red tail hawk flew alongside me, so close that I thought he would land on the tree in front of me. But he continued past and into the shadows of the trees. As I stared at him, marveling at the beauty of his feathers, which glowed even in the darkness of the rainy afternoon, Gilbert was saying, “…and this meant ‘God is here!’”
I suddenly woke up to the synchronicity of the hawk’s appearance and heard Gilbert say again, “God is here!’” And I saw in that moment that God is here, in this hawk flying in front of me, a copper and gray and brown dancer who shone with divinity and I was here to witness: God is here!
The hawk disappeared into the woods and I called Tennerin’s name again, hoping the hawk was coming back to land in his favorite tree and interact with me. I had some hawk food in my pocket—a couple of mice and some beef, and was primed to begin our interaction, to make progress with our friendship. But the hawk did not come back. And then I realized this was my hawk, my dancer, who showed me that God is here, and that this was my gift. And that gift was enough. I understood that this was all I could ask for—divinity in response to my heartfelt wish to see a hawk and feel my beautiful Tennerin’s magic.
And so it was that I encountered divinity on my walk today. Let me not forget that God is here. Allah! Allah! Whatever the name, without a name, even, Tennerin is here; the magic and the great synchronicity of love—it is right here.