The Screech of a Hawk

   There is no apparent connection between myself and a Red-Tailed Hawk but, perhaps, I speak prematurely and without wisdom and thoughtfulness. Perhaps, the connection warrants some metaphorical analysis.  Last night, when I went for my evening walk, I looked for but did not see any Red-Tailed Hawks. Instead, I heard one as I slowly ascended what I shall, henceforth, call Mindfulness Hill: If you follow the cracks in the asphalt, you stay in the moment.  At first, I thought it was the screech of a Blue Jay but it was too unpleasant-sounding for that. A Blue Jay's screech is annoying but it doesn't send shivers down your spine afterwards. When I heard the Hawk, I immediately walked faster afraid it could see me when I definitely could not see it. I felt spied upon if not exactly preyed upon. When you hear a Hawk, it is obvious you have heard something not quite of this world. It is a sound of beings not bound by a gravitational pull to the Earth. It's the sound of a sentient being who soars. It's the sound of what isn't quite right; the sound of a malcontent who doesn't perceive themselves as such. But, it's not as a malcontent whose sole point of existence is to cause problems or consciously promote evil. It's the voice of something that wants you to be aware that they are there and Hawks have a purpose even if, on the surface, the purpose, to eat cute squirrels, seems harsh.  I think of the unearthly screech of the lone, Red-Tailed Hawk and it, seemingly randomly, brings up the unpleasant, harsh, rigid ways I have judged myself over the course of my life. I read somewhere that, if you see or hear Hawks frequently, it could be your higher self trying to communicate with your earthly-bound form: That, maybe, you need to pay attention to the messages from birds that soar above the trees and sidewalks. Their screeches might be discordant but so is a lifetime of being disconnected from our earthly bodies and consciousness.