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Freia, Daughter of the Golden Eyed Hawk

Written by Tara Coumoundouros

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Posted on March 13 2022

A Living Spring Myth

Staring at herself in the mirror, Freia blinked in rapid succession.  How has it come to pass that she barely knows who she is?  The month of March always brings to her the feeling of restlessness and once again she could feel the prickles beneath her skin but as she gazed upon her fine-boned features she wondered to herself if it was time to begin again?  Life had become a dance of turns in and turns out where she was in a constant flux of change in which she was becoming and unbecoming simultaneously.  Her 39-year-old face looked like hers but it no longer felt like hers.  How was it that a woman holds the line for society until she can’t anymore and in her utter collapse comes her resurrection?  She had already fallen as hard as the Tower Card in her tarot deck had predicted, crumbled into ash and become the phoenix, risen but this was not to be her final form. 

Her eyes looked different today and as each layer of her former self had fallen away, some coming back occasionally to play and others leaving completely forever, she no longer knew herself. She was in the blank space of another spring canvas yet to become its final art form.  She remembered her meditation teacher’s words and she asked her soul the questions she needed to know: “Who are you? What is it you really want?  What do you need?”  Had she ever really asked herself before and given herself a true and soulful answer?  She was beginning to wonder if all of her previous form’s answers were those she had been taught to say, trained to want, and ignored her own inner-most needs.  Here she was discovering her desires.  She was converting them into non-negotiables.  Sometimes, when our soul begins to rebel against what we’ve told we are supposed to be we swing so far away from who we once were we can no longer find ourselves and this is what she was beginning to understand.  Her final form was to be a mix of all of it.  Her hurts, her society, her wants, her family traumas, her needs, her ancestors, her descendants, she was all of it and more.  Her story was not yet finished.  She was becoming the third way, the person between who she thought she should be, who others thought she should be and merging into the strength of both together like the fire of ten thousand suns. Spring is the time for resurrection myths and she was living hers fully.

Driving to her favorite spirit store, she walked in and smiled at the familiar smell.  Looking around her for what she needed, she searched for her goods.  Fingers touching each stone as she closed her eyes and felt for her instinctive reactions.  Feeling drawn to the candles she selected one representing her ancestry.  She gathered the stones she wanted.  Aqua aura for watery reflections of love and beauty, hawk eye for vision work, rose quartz for the love she was feeling for herself, and a labradorite to help her intuit what it was she was searching for.  A journal caught her eye and she grabbed it noting the synchronicity of the numbers on it as 3-6-9 for her year of transformation and her age. Perfect.  She always found exactly what it was her soul needed here.  Picking up a yoga schedule she vowed to herself she finally would give it try, but today was her day to do some soul searching.  After paying the lady, she walked back outside noticing the glint of golden eyes and the flap of wings as something flew past overhead.  The birds had been very active this week mimicking the prickling sensations she felt inside with their cries.  Moving all the way back to her home she unpacked her goods and set them up for her ritual. 

Looking into her grey green eyes she closed them as she reached for her essential oils.  She anointed her forehead, her throat, her heart, her beautiful belly, and gave herself a hug.  Walking slowly in a clockwise motion she called to her army, to her ancestors, to those spirits she loved best.  Lighting the candle, she closed the circle and stepped inside, whispering to herself “wherever the light touches no darkness can be.”  Today was not a day of shadows but a day of inspiration and commune.  She closed her eyes and began to sway.  Feeling the trance-like state take hold of her with each gentle motion she allowed herself to sink into a deep meditation.  Suddenly she was transformed and moving far, far away.  Where was she going?  Feeling herself somewhere and in her mind’s eye gazing around her she saw rock forms and a standing circle of trees.  Knowing she traveled far back in time she breathed in the ancient appeal of the place.  Instinctively she moved to the babbling brook beside the entrance and pawed at the mud.  On all fours she spread the mud all over her cheeks and stood again.  She could sense a great fire lit nearby and hear the beating of ancient ritual drums.  Looking down she saw a white cotton muslin gown upon her body as she moved into the circle of trees.  Laying down upon the soft moss of the earth she allowed herself to gaze up at a sky that seemed to swirl and whirl with energy.  The beat of the drum pulsing inside of her veins she relaxed into an open state.  Releasing her grasp on the desire to see something she melted into a posture of willingness to receive. A golden-eyed hawk flew down from the tree and circled over her and she closed her eyes.  Feeling tugs and pulls she knew something was ripping weight from inside of her and she grew lighter.  She imagined its great talons gutting her and spreading her entrails along the path.  Feathers tickled her cheeks and wind brushed at her hair.  Smoke curled in her nostrils and she coughed once.  The tugging had stopped and she felt whole once again.  Whispers filled her ears as she heard a male voice say “we are always both hunter and prey.  Intelligence without drive is a wasted day.”  She imagined the great hawk didn’t have time to be frozen with past traumas and inactivity.  He didn’t know what it meant to be paralyzed with fears kicked up by a pandemic he had to wake up every day and hunt for what it was he wanted.  Hunger driving his instincts to eat what it is which nourishes his being.  The energy of his drive entered her, fueling her with intelligence and the desire to become.  She felt light and sharp.  Pouring gratitude off of her skin and into the great bird who had disappeared and bowing deeply to her ancestors, she found herself back on solid ground again.  As quickly as the vision had come, it had now gone.  She was back in her room.  The candle she had purchased flickering playfully in the wind as though it was celebrating her journey with her.  She released the circle and found her journal.  Licking her pen she put it to paper, scrolling his words and her own words followed:

“I am Freia.  Daughter of the golden-eyed hawk.

I am intelligence embodied.  I am both hunter and prey.

Pursuit of my desires and passions make for a fulfilling day.

I am Freia.  Daughter of the golden eyed hawk.

I am the winds of change.  I am weightlessness in form.

Three flaps of my great wings and I am reborn.

I am Freia.  Daughter of the golden-eyed hawk.

I am instinctive need.  I am the ability to fly free.

Everywhere I’ve been is exactly who I’m meant to be.”

A confidence she had never known filled her soul.  She had been searching for herself and she felt whole.  She was both her past experiences and the wild beauty of the yet unknown.  Her desires and her needs filled her full.  Shaking off the last few years of confusion, panic and trauma she was felt ready to release it all and unfreeze.  Hearing the cooing of birds outside she smiled to herself and said “yes, little ones, me too.”  Ready to fly free and follow her dreams in her skin she knew she was home.  She had become and she whispered to herself, “I am Freia, daughter of the golden-eyed hawk.”  And so it is.