Hope in the Air

On Tuesday I spent some good time in the quiet of the breakfast nook,
Writing to a friend about essential energy,
About staying connected to the magic that is all around
If we are willing to be open to it.

It was election day, and I had had an amazing morning with Dahlia,
Going to the polls together and then talking about reproduction and marriage equality
On our way to school.
I knew Obama would win, though I wasn't so sure Prop 8 would be defeated.

On this day I was getting to enjoy both with my daughter and with myself,
I was holding hope and some wariness at the same time.
Still, I must've been open to all the possibilities
Because this is what happened after I sent off the email I'd written...

I decided to go for a walk in Golden Gate Park, which is a few blocks away from our house.
It had rained the day before and it smelled amazing outside,
I wanted to be in the park to smell more of it.
On my way out, I slammed the side door to the garage and started walking.
For some reason, something told me to go back and check the door to make sure it was really closed.
I walked back to my house and thought, "You really are neurotic, the door's fine."
Of course it was.
Then I turned to walk toward the park again
And a Red Tail Hawk swooped over and past me,
Perching on a tree nearby.

Ah, Red Tail Hawk, I haven't seen you in a while.
What a perfect day for you to show up.

The hawk stayed there as I approached the tree,
Then stayed longer before swooping again to cross the street for a telephone pole.
It stayed there a while too, and I watched it and talked quietly to it.
I wondered to myself, "Are you talking to the hawk or to Tikva?"
(Does it matter?)
Then the hawk swooped a third time to a streetlight on an island between two directions of a big street.
I crossed the street and kept watching it.
In the distance I could see another hawk flying around the sky very far away.
Finally, my hawk friend flew away, and I walked into the park.

I thought about how massive the hawk looked in flight,
Its expansive wingspan so regal and infinite,
Yet how much smaller it looked, wings at its side, perched on that pole.
(Like us, maybe, able to be small, able to expand
Depending on what life requires in each moment...)

I walked around the park for about an hour.
Tikva felt so close to me there, especially after the hawk's visit.
It felt like she was playing with me...
In the hawks,
In three tiny noisy birds chirping while playing in a bush,
In some white butterflies - one flying by, another resting still on a clover,
In the incredible smell of eucalyptus,
In the moist humus under my feet.

Perhaps she felt the excitement of hope and the possibility of change in the air that day...

Leaving the park, just as I approached my street again,
I saw my hawk was back,
Perched on the same telephone pole as before,
As soon as I came near, it flew away a final time.
As if it had been waiting for me.
As though Tikva wanted me to remember that we are all still connected,
And always will be.

Magic all around...

That evening I took Dahlia to meet Dave at our friend Jeffrey's
To watch the election results on TV together with friends.
I loved that she was as excited about it as I was.
I took her around the city, rather than through,
So that she could see how beautiful San Francisco by night can be
As you approach the Castro and Mission neighborhoods from Upper Market Street.
"Wow!" she agreed, as we could see practically the whole city
As we zoomed toward the Castro.
"You see that giant rainbow flag, Dahlia?" I asked her.
"Isn't it beautiful? This is a place where you are free to love whoever you want to love."
"Where are we?!" she asked in wonder,
As if we had landed in the Land of Oz.
"We're in the Castro. A place where you can be whoever you want to be.
San Francisco is a very special place, Dahlia."
"Why?"
"Because it's filled with people from everywhere,
All of them different, all of them beautiful, living together.
And because it's just a funky place."
"What does funky mean?"

Tears in my eyes, so much hope in the air,
I couldn't help but smile,
Even after the year we have been through.
Perhaps because of the journey we have been on,
The journey that is by no means over,
But in a way has only just begun.

I have said many times that I am forever changed because of Tikva.
I'm still not exactly sure what I mean by that,
But something has been opened and it is not going to close up again.
A friend who has also been through an unexplainable tragedy
Asked me yesterday how I have managed to maintain my faith through this experience of losing my child.
I'm not sure how to answer that, I'm just sitting with the question right now.
I do know that in a way I have more faith now,
More of a sense of connection, than I did before Tikva,
Because I feel like this incredible angel chose me to help her unfold her very special purpose,
And in doing so she has opened me up to a sphere of being that I wasn't courageous enough to inhabit before.
Now I am just starting to learn how to be here without squirming
In this place of trust, surrender, and unconditional love.

I don't know what I think about God.
I don't think of God as this entity that is responsible for all the good and bad in the world.
I experience God or Source as the connection between all that is,
Both every single cell of every single being and thing
As well as all the space in between.
Both the black of the letters of the Torah and the white space between them,
What is spoken and written and what is simply felt and known, in silence.
I experience God as our connection to each other - every single one of us,
Including all the tiny little creatures and blades of grass and grains of sand
That accompany us on our journeys.
I experience God as Tikva in the Red Tail Hawk that visited me on Tuesday.
I experience God as the magic of hope and love that Tikva has awakened
Through the words that flow from me about her and our journey
And the sensations in your hearts when you read about her.

It's neat, this feeling that some of the magic and wonder
I was able to know when I was a small child is able to reawaken again
Amid - and perhaps because of - such intense and such grownup sorrow.

I still wake up missing Tikva, sometimes with tears in my eyes.
I cried the whole way to yoga class yesterday,
Then had a great yoga class despite feeling like my body was fighting a cold.
I still hold the longing for my little girl close to my body,
Me too wishing I was carrying my Baby Girl in a wrap against me.
I still wonder if those moms with babies know just how lucky they are.
AND I know how lucky I am,
Because I have Tikva.