Saving Grace

I wanted to practise yoga on the morning of first new moon after the vernal equinox.  It seemed like an auspicious way to begin the lunar month.  I couldn't help feeling there was something very special in the air as I began the half hour walk to my yoga studio. 
I was about half way there when I noticed a woman crouching on the driveway beside a house, fiddling  with her cell phone.  Two men stood a few feet away on the sidewalk.  Everyone's attention was on something at the edge of the small, front lawn.  As I got closer I could see a large bird, a raptor of some kind.  It was a red tailed hawk, one of the most common type of hawk that populate the tree-bound neighbourhood where I live.  I assumed it was injured, because it sat perfectly still on the low curb between the driveway and the lawn, not attempting to get away from the humans who hovered nearby.
The woman on her cell phone informed me that she'd seen the hawk fly into one of the side windows of the house as she was walking her dog.  She was calling the local wildlife rescue centre to find help for the injured bird.  I thought one or both of its wings must have been injured, because it wasn't trying to fly away. However, there was an injury that was plainly visible.  The hawk was favouring its right leg by extending it forward and out of the way, while keeping most of its weight on the other  limb.  It also looked as if the poor bird couldn't use the claw on the hurt leg.  I knew right then and there I wouldn't make it to my yoga class.  I had no intention of leaving until somebody came to rescue the hawk. 
The bird was so beautiful that I longed to get close enough to touch her.  ("Petting" a formidable raptor doesn't sound quite right.)  I approached ever so slowly until she was within an arm's length.   When I sat down on the curb next to her, she shuffled a bit, but otherwise didn't move, perhaps because she wasn't able to.   As I reached my hand out to touch her, she eyed me warily but still didn't move.  Then I very tenderly lay my hand upon her back and began to stroke her feathers.  It was like feeling fine velvet.
"I'd put gloves on if I were you," the other woman warned.

I understood what she meant.  A hawk's beak can tear flesh apart in an instant.  But the gorgeous, feathered creature beside me didn't seem to mind my attention.  After all, she'd already allowed the kind lady with the cellphone to pull her out of the bushes beneath the window where she'd fallen after crashing.  She was probably too stunned to resist.  Whatever the reason for her preternatural calm, she remained perfectly still as I continued to stroke her back, her wings, and then her breast.
"How does it feel?" asked one of the men.
"Soft, very soft," I replied.  My heart melted as I stayed by her side.  After quietly sitting with her for a  few more minutes, I leaned over to stroke her one last time when she suddenly flapped her wings and took flight, landing on one of the uppermost branches of a nearby tree.  Everyone gasped and then cheered.  Maybe she didn't need rescuing after all. 
After making sure she was safely ensconced in the tree, the small band of humans that had gathered around her dispersed.  One of the men commented before leaving that he felt privileged for having  been part of something so special.  I felt the same way, and was deeply grateful that the hawk had trusted me enough to let me "pet" her without raising a fuss. 

That beautiful bird has been happily on my mind ever since.  I've named her Grace, because I felt graced  to have been in her presence. Indigenous Peoples regard red tailed hawks as spirit guides who represent vision and foresight, due to their keen eyesight.  They are associated with the root chakra,  which is located at the base of the spine where the tail bone is situated.  And red, it should be noted, isn't just the colour of the bird's tail feathers, it's also the colour of the root chakra.  It isn't as odd as it seems that a high flying  bird should be symbolic of the root chakra.  Being rooted denotes balance, meaning that red tailed hawks teach us how to fly to great heights while keeping our feet firmly planted on the ground.
The last time I was in Peru (see Grandma and the Night Visitors, 3/15/19) a little lame chick taught me the same lesson, although I still haven't mastered her teachings.  Finding balance is a tough one for me. So Grace must have showed up to drive the point home.  Gotta love those raptors. 
Anyway, both birds had lame limbs, and reminded me of the bouts I have with the "wobblies," my euphemism for depressive episodes that cripple me sometimes.  And if that weren't enough to connect two seemingly disparate spirit guides, red tailed hawks have been mistakenly referred to as "chicken hawks," a misnomer resulting from the false belief that chickens are one of their animals of prey. 
So how can I not believe in magic?
Timing is also a factor in receiving and understanding magical messages.  According to Native lore, the times of  greatest power for the red tailed hawk are equinoxes and new moons.  Well, wouldn't you know, Grace crossed my path on the first new moon after a power-charged vernal equinox.  (See previous post.) 
Hey.  I can't make this stuff up.
I wrote about waiting for a "red bird" to rise out of the ashes of my most recent, and thankfully  fading-into-the-past crash and burn.  At the time I didn't know why I chose "red bird" as the harbinger of better times.  I deliberately avoided using the ever-popular, mythological Phoenix to describe my hopes.  Although the Phoenix is a fine metaphor for resurrection, it seemed cliché at the time, so I settled for "red bird" instead.  It felt right, and now I know why. 
I once wrote that signs heal me, including the more ominous ones that warn of hard times ahead.   Since my red bird appeared to me a few days ago, I feel lighter than I have in a long while.  My intuition is being fine-tuned and my connection to everything grows stronger with every new sign I see.
I shall always cherish the memory of Grace allowing me to touch her.  But it's how Grace has  touched me that matters most.  I felt strangely at peace while I sat in her presence, even though I feared she might be badly hurt.  The only way I could sit beside her and revel in her beauty was to be quiet and still.  For a few brief moments I knew what it was to feel equanimity in a  potentially stressful  situation. 

writing later the same day...

I had almost finished writing this story shortly before I had to leave for yoga practice.  (This time I managed to get there.)  I just needed to write an appropriate closing sentence or two before posting it. As fate would have it, I serendipitously found the perfect ending at the yoga studio. 
There's a open deck of blessing cards in the studio boutique, which is available to anyone who wants a quick fix of cartomancy.  I pulled a card, as I am wont to do every time I'm there, just to see what blessing the Cosmos had in store for me.  Well lo and behold, here's what it said...
May you know Grace. 
I wish you the same.
- g.p.