on instinct and art-making

otherwise known as the Wisdom of the Hawk

Photo by Pete Nuij on Unsplash

it’s undecided, but i got to know

I feel like I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.

I want to work.

The motivation and willingness are here—stronger than ever, in fact. And any doubts that I might harbour about my talent have become too slippery to cling to.

Never have I been better equipped to handle the extensive suite of threats that have plagued me in the past: fear of risk, of the unknown, of success, of responsibility, of starting something new, of finishing something familiar, of bearing my soul, of sharing too much.

From an emotional, psychological, and spiritual standpoint—hell, even physically—I feel well-equipped to grapple with the shame, humiliation, frustration, anger, jealousy, and guilt I have accrued over years of orienting my life around a narrative of weakness, failure, and pain.

I’m not saying that I have all of the kinks ironed out (not by a long shot!), but I have managed to clear away enough mental detritus to achieve a strong sense of my purpose and the meaning of my work. Furthermore, I’ve put in enough reps at this point that my confidence in my ability to execute my work grows daily; with every blank page that’s filled, I prove myself a writer.

And yet, I’m feeling lost right now. Like the pen has suddenly become a stranger. As if the sun had never re-emerged from the shadow of the moon, abandoning us to a Dark World of blindness and entropy.

I feel more powerful than ever, it’s true, and yet it is unclear to me how I might use that power. For what purpose, am I to use these gifts that I do not understand?

My sense of balance is all outta whack. Like somebody is messing with the gravity controls of my life. And no matter how much I might strain to reach it, I can’t quite seem to get my feet back on solid ground.

So, I’ve decided that I’ll just keep floating.

And I’ll try to be okay with that… really, I will.

Photo by Rachel McDermott on Unsplash

---

---

you must have been born reciting

There are a mated pair of red-tailed hawks that live in the woods next to my house. Fairly often, when I look out the window next to my writing desk, I find them circling their territory in graceful, looping arcs.

They seem to float on the very air itself, adjusting and correcting their flight path with short, simple movements that keep them perfectly in sync and on course. They never seem to waver or be in anything less than total control.

When I’m really lucky—and the window’s open—I’m close enough to hear their telltale call, a shriek so brutally intense and awe-inspiring that it has become the de facto “raptor sound” in Hollywood productions (and no wonder).

I’m not exactly a “bird person” (although, maybe I’m becoming one), but it’s impossible not to recognize the staggering beauty of these creatures. I am in awe of them.

Now, whenever I spot them, I often drop what I’m doing just to watch them complete a few effortless laps. In doing so, I’m hoping that some of their better aspects will rub off on me, like how a slumping hitter will try and steal some of his buddy’s mojo by using his bat or glove.

I’ve been surprised at how often and how effectively this works.

Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash

There’s a lesson for me to learn in that, I believe.

Especially because, for the last few weeks, I’ve been spotting hawks everywhere. And I mean everywhere. At least two, every single day.

As silly as I fear this admission will make me look, dear reader, seeing all of these hawks feels quite significant. I’ve never seen so many before, perhaps not in my entire lifetime combined, so why so many? so suddenly?

Well, I’ve come to believe that the universe, the Source, if you will, can be subtle and, furthermore, that many of life’s most important lessons only become available to us when we have finally gained the eyes to see them and discovered the wisdom necessary to accept the blessing.

I suspect I am noticing so many hawks lately because, as I said at the top, I’ve been feeling quite lost lately. It is what famed psychologist Carl G. Jung described as “synchronicity,” a “meaningful coincidence.”

As M.-L. von Franz explains in the essay “The Process of Individuation” from Man and His Symbols, “If an aircraft crashes before my eyes as I am blowing my nose, this is a coincidence of events that has no meaning. It is simply a chance occurrence of a kind that happens all the time. But if I bought a blue frock and, by mistake, the shop delivered a black one on the day one of my relatives died, this would be a meaningful coincidence. The two events are not causally related, but they are connected by the symbolic meaning that our society gives to the color black.”¹

So, if there are any lessons for me to take away from my recent synchronous experience, what might they be?

Photo by Jared Verdi on Unsplash

we’ve been divided, but i told you so, oh

How about ensuring that I always retain the capacity for peace and acceptance, no matter the moment, no matter the circumstances?

That seems like something worth channeling, right?

If you think about it, from a hawk’s perspective, everything is as it should be. The world is exactly right, exactly as it is. Concepts like “right” and “wrong” simply do not apply, in a hawk’s world.

For the hawk doesn’t need to think about its work each day. Nor does it worry about how it will appear or be perceived. Instead, it accomplishes everything that it needs to accomplish simply because it understands on an instinctual level everything that needs to be done. And it does those things, without reluctance or hesitation; hunting, mating, seeing off rivals.

It searches, yes, but it isn’t attempting to find anything… because it is secure in the knowledge that it will know what it is looking for whenever it sees it.

No wasted effort, no useless movements or agitation. No fussing or worrying.

I’m looking to channel some of that intuitive confidence and instinctive perception.

Sometimes, when I watching them in flight, I count how many breathes I can take between wingbeats. My record so far is twenty-three. I don’t know how long that takes exactly—but I’m a slow and steady breather, so probably at least two minutes. Which is staggering, right?

Just imagine being able to do something so difficult, with such ease…

They are powerful, violent animals, of course, but what stands out to me the most, is their unflappable poise and confident bearing. Panic and anxiety have no place in a hawk’s world, either.

I’m looking to channel some of that equanimity and grace.

Hawk’s have exceptional vision. Their eyes rank amongst the very best in all the animal kingdom, making them fearsome hunters who can easily spot small prey from a distance of one hundred feet. They can hone in on larger targets from distances up to a mile.

No wonder they look so calm and controlled.

I’m looking to channel some of that vision and clarity.

Hawks are apex predators. They can catch and kill a staggering variety of prey, adapting their diets to the local food supply. They don’t have to be picky eaters, and won’t be, if the circumstances require it, but they choose their targets deliberately and carefully.

Aside from humans, hawks encounter very few animals that pose any significant danger to them. They are nigh-unassailable masters of their environment.

I’m looking to channel some of that unflappability.

Hawks are highly-adaptable. They can be found on every single continent on the globe, save Antartica, and they can thrive in almost any biome.

For birds that weigh barely more than 2 pounds on average, they are incredibly tough and hardy creatures.

I’m looking to channel some of that rugged versatility.

Photo by Richard Lee on Unsplash

---

the most poetic ride-or-die death wish

So, yeah, I’ve felt a bit lost of late (more on that soon).

But I think that’s because I have yet to fully integrate the Wisdom of the Hawk into my writing practice (and, therefore, my life; for these things are intertwined). I am working on it though. And I’ve made at least some progress.

In the past when I’ve felt lost, I’ve told myself that if I show up, the right words will come.

But it’s a funny thing, that… “the right words.”

Right words, huh?

No wonder I feel so much pressure, even when I tell myself, “Hey, no pressure.”

Because they’ll all just words, baby.

There are no “right” words or “wrong” words. There are just words.

“The right words,” as it were, turn out to simply be the words that stick. The words that survive the cut. They are special, sure, but only because they’re the ones that happen to form the particular message you’re attempting to convey—there’s nothing inherently magical or “right” about them, otherwise. They just happen to be the words that fit one particular puzzle. In another instance, those same words might make a terrible fit—they might turn out to be “the wrong words,” in that case.

So I think all this “right” word, “wrong” word business is really just an elaborate form of self-sabotage.

In telling myself that I must find the “right” words, I put pressure on myself to find them, wherever they’re lurking out there in the aether. And, of course, if I can’t find them—if I can’t locate those “right” words, then how can I justify writing any words at all?

Not to mention, it’s only logical that, if there are “right words,” I should spend a lot of time thinking about what those words might be. Remember: everything hinges on finding the right words. So you better think. You better pay attention. Hey. Hey! HEY! Are you paying attention? Are you thinking? Did you find them yet.

Good god.

What a recipe for disaster!

Because thinking about writing tends to run me in circles. I imagine that this is true for many artists, regardless of medium.

Thinking tends to heighten my anxiety and instigate devastating bouts of fear and self-loathing (because you can only ever fall short of a bar like “right words”).

Thinking produces frustration and annoyance, poisoning everything from root to stem. And worst of all, thinking about the work somehow seems to become a legitimate alternative to actually doing the work.

So, instead of working; I think about working. Instead of working; I think about past works, trying in vain to decipher some hidden key to unlocking an easier mode of composition. Instead of working; I think about why this project won’t work or why that piece isn’t worth doing. Instead of working; I think about what needs to be done to make working easier and more appealing. And so on.

You see how this goes?

It’s past time to retire such a self-defeating mindset.

Believing in the existence of “right words” and “wrong words” has allowed me to ignore and deny that I inherently possess everything I need to do my work.

But I am a hawk! I need not search for that which I already possess.

Searching leads to unnecessary effort.

And unnecessary effort leads to frustration, which leads to ruin.

There is already enough wrong with the world, that I don’t need to add to the misery.

So, I’m trying to channel some of the Wisdom of the Hawk. I’m trying to let it make me a better person. I’m trying to let it help me grow and evolve new, better ways of being. I’m trying to let it guide me to my next lesson, so that the next time I encounter a bump along the Path, I don’t trip so badly. Sprained ankles sure hurt like hell.

---

Plate 51 of Birds of America by John James Audubon, depicting two red-tailed hawks battling over prey.

---

Think less, write more.

I think that’ll become my new motto. I’ll post a printout of it somewhere on the wall near my writing desk in the days ahead.

Lords knows, I’ll need the reminder.

And every time I see a hawk, I’ll remember my lesson: think less, write more.

---

As always, thank you for reading, my friend!

If you would like to support unspooling, you can do so in several ways:

Please feel free to share my work on social media. But better yet, you can also share it with real-life friends and family who might enjoy what I do here.

By following this link, you can “buy me a coffee” and financially support this endeavour. Any and everything helps.

However, the best way to support unspooling is to become a paid subscriber—all new posts are exclusive to paying subscribers for a nominal period of 3-5 days upon release.

---

If you enjoyed this piece, you might also want to check out these hand-selected posts…

---

---

1. M.-L. von Franz, “The Process of Individuation,” from Man and His Symbols, edited by Carl. G. Jung (Dell: 1968), 226.