Spirit of Sankofa
A big turkey buzzard smacked headlong into my car windshield. Scavenging roadkill, it was just lifting off as my car rounded the bend. First, there was a sickening thump and I lost the road in a mass of black feathers. “You did that to yourself,” I shouted, sorrowful at the thought of killing any living thing, even a buzzard. My heart pounding, I continued down the mountain.
Later, still unsettled from an avian encounter of the worst kind, I did some research. It turns out that a bird hitting your window is synonymous with one door closing and another opening. I read that it could mean the end of a relationship that’s no longer working for you or quitting a job that is upsetting you. Folklore tells us that a bird represents transition. Well hell, I thought, that was one big bird, so buckle up! In retrospect, it makes perfect sense that I quit my job a week later.
That night as I scrolled through the top articles on birds hitting a windshield, of which there are many oddly enough, I filtered my search with new criteria — spiritual significance. I hit enter and the Universe responded… Sankofa. You’ve never heard of Sankofa? Neither had I until that damn bird.
Sankofa is a word in the Twi language of Ghana (West Africa) meaning “to return and retrieve it” and also refers to the Bono Adinkra symbol represented either with a stylized heart shape or by a bird with its head turned backward while its feet face forward carrying a precious egg in its mouth. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sankofa).
Sankofa honors our personal struggle to become who we are. The spirit of Sankofa urges one to take what is good in the past and bring it into the present moment in order to create a brighter future. Why would I carry forward anything from the past that might prevent me from being happy in the future? People do. If we’ve lived at all, we do. Yet, something was shifting. I was coming unstuck. I could almost feel myself rising.
My last day of employment was triggered by my supervisor chastising me for letting the children release butterflies. A releasing ceremony was held — a wondrous day and one of the most significant lessons I ever taught. My kids and I were saying goodbye. In that instant, I knew I had to resign. Five Painted Ladies got their wings that day — six if you count me!
I am without an income but instead of being worried, I feel exhilarated. The great blessing of enough will tide me over. I might even dust off a few writing projects that are shelved, rework them, and see if there is anything there. I still know a few editors who like me. Sankofa had taught me what to do. How did I know that Sankofa wasn’t done with me yet?
The next seismic shift is not something I can be simplistic about. My living arrangement with a former partner is that of a loving friendship and has been this way for many years. Our arrangement is a mutually beneficial albeit lonely way to live. I told myself it was good enough, mature even. We had great conversations, shared a love of playing music, and knew all the same people.
Until Love called to tell me he was coming to town. I had maintained a friendship with a writer. I kind of wanted to be him — so funny, and a great storyteller. No wonder we were friends, he has many. I say we knew each other but the truth is we had never met in person. Sankofa now brought us to the same city at the same time.
You have to be fearless, I’m telling you. I thought I was too cool and sophisticated to be swept off my feet. I was not. How can I explain what it’s like to experience the arousal of quiescent forces like love and desire? It takes awareness and a measure of grace to find your bearings when you feel the familiar ground shifting under your feet. For some of us, it doesn’t take an actual collision to know. I am in the Now of this time and space. In the spirit of Sankofa and in this present migration, an unpredictable revolution has returned and retrieved parts of my life I thought I had left behind.
From where I’m sitting, the future looks pretty bright.
