HUMMINGBIRD: MESSAGES FROM MY ANCESTORS: A MEMOIR WITH REFLECTION AND WRITING PROMPTS
(An excerpt)
BY DIANA RAAB
(Modern History Press / January 2024)
1,590 word excerpt
Each day a hummingbird visits the garden outside my writing studio. She loves the red trumpet vine that bears delicious nectar. She hovers in the center of the flower for a few seconds, levitates, and then moves on to the next vine. Her movements are so quick that I have to keep a close eye so as not to miss her before she flies away. She seems to have a lot to do over the course of her day as she bestows her magic on plants and other sentient beings.
It’s been said that those who were close to you before they died commonly send messages in the form of bird spirit guides. Hummingbirds, in particular, resonate at a high vibration, which makes them more connected to the spiritual realm. They’re also joyful reminders and tend to open our hearts and make us smile. They’re referred to as messengers from the heavens because they often show up when people grieve the loss of a loved one. In this way, they can also be healing. If you ever watch a hummingbird, you’ll notice that it can come to a complete stop when traveling at high speed. Also, their movements are often in the shape of an infinity sign; thus their connection to eternity.
Some Native Americans believe the presence of hummingbirds brings unconditional love and harmony. The Aztecs viewed hummingbirds as brave and courageous fighters. They also believed hummingbirds to be immortal, connecting us with our ancestors. The fact is that, whenever one appears, it’s sometimes viewed as a visitation from an ancestor or a manifestation of a dead person’s spirit.
In Ancestral Medicine: Rituals for Personal and Family Healing (2017), Dr. Daniel Foor states that connecting with our ancestors is beneficial for our psychological and physical health. Not only can it boost our confidence and intellectual performance, it also makes us aware of family predispositions that can benefit us and future generations. It also encourages introspection and can bring clarity about our life purpose. Those who are connected with their ancestors often feel more supported and comfortable.
Many intuitive individuals believe that hummingbirds are the greatest proof of messages from heaven. When settling down to sleep at night, these birds have the ability to lower their metabolism to the minimum necessary to sustain life. To conserve energy, their metabolism comes to an almost complete standstill. They can also easily travel backward, which reminds us that it’s okay to look to our past and connect with memories of loved ones who have passed away.
I’m quite sure that my grandmother, who died when I was ten and she was sixty-one, frequently visits me in the form of a hummingbird. She sends messages of love and offers me ongoing protection. She reminds me that everything is temporary and the importance of enjoying my time here on Earth. She tells me that her time here was too short and that being my grandma and caretaker was one of her greatest joys and accomplishments. She reminds me to rise above the everyday, rudimentary concerns of life and look at the larger picture. She says that, with love, we can accomplish almost anything, and a life without love is an empty one.
I believe that if we pay attention, we receive signs from the departed that help show us the way. Some people call these entities guardian angels, while others refer to them as spirit guides. They visit in different forms, so you must open your heart to the secret messages being sent your way.
I am not the only one who receives messages from the departed through birds. Birds are like omens. Some people say they’re a source of spiritual inspiration. After all, like angels, they have wings. This makes sense to me, as birds are able to fly close to the heavens and gather wisdom and messages to bring back to us here on Earth. Over the years, I’ve learned to be mindful of these messages.
My father, Edward, is another ancestor who has visited me. Dad was short in stature—standing about five foot nine—but he had a big personality, always with a smile on his face exposing his perfectly aligned, capped teeth. He had a large forehead and black, thinning, slicked-back hair. He loved making jokes, and his loving nature thrived on making others happy.
Living through the Holocaust from the age of fifteen to twenty, my father lost his parents and youngest brother in Dachau’s gas chambers, so a growing family became very important to him. His life mission after emigrating to the United States at the end of World War II was to bring as much peace as possible into his life and into the lives of his loved ones. Decades later, he was especially joyful when he was the first grandparent to meet his grandbaby. He was a retail toy salesman and yearned to start bestowing many toys on his first grandchild.
My father died more than thirty years after Grandma. Now he visits me as a dove, symbolizing peace, which I need during challenging times. Even though my father left this physical plane so long ago, I believe that the dove’s visits are his way to remind me of his presence. He continues to remind me to seek peace for myself and for those I love.
When my grandmother and father were alive, they provided me with unconditional love, and they continue to do so on their visitations. They don’t give me direct, detailed instructions. Rather, they support and guide me on my life journey. I sometimes feel their presence over my right shoulder as if an energy were coming through—a physical sensation such as tingling or chills in the upper part of my body. Once in a while, I feel their presence when one of my extremities falls asleep. Sometimes I hear Dad giving me advice or telling me that everything will be okay.
My grandmother’s messages come to me in other subtle ways—an unexpected bird, an out-of-the-blue phone call, a certain book falling off my shelf, a certain song playing on the radio, a light flickering in the house, or her whispering into my right ear. It might only be a word or two, but it’s usually enough to relay an important message, much as the hummingbirds seem to do.
Because my parents were immigrants and worked long hours, I was a very independent child. Years later, I became a two-time cancer survivor. I’ve intuitively known how to care for myself and surrounding myself with those who loved me. I’ve sought good and lighthearted people.
For self-care, I began meditating in the early 1970s before it was trendy. I was selective about my friends, and it took time for me to trust people. Losing my grandmother had hurled me into a barbed cycle of fear. As a teen, when boyfriends broke up with me, I remained locked in trauma long after my friends in similar situations had moved on. I was constantly in a state of self-protection, afraid that through death, abandonment, or both, I would be left alone.
Over the years, I’ve come to believe that difficult moments of our childhoods can continue to trigger us for the rest of our lives. Sometimes when I felt unloved or reprimanded, I’d shut down. Five years after my grandmother died, I had a heated disagreement with my mother. I can’t recall what she said, but I doremember it was the first time I realized that our worldviews were in complete opposition. She had a way of diminishing my self-esteem and making me feel empty inside. For example, she’d ridicule me in front of others.
People have often asked how it is possible that I’m her daughter, as our energies are completely different. My mother’s negativity often made people feel deflated. In contrast, I have been a positive person who made people feel good about themselves. As Maya Angelou wisely said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
The fact is, as children, we don’t initially realize the impact of crises such as losing a loved one or learning that we weren’t wanted. Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, in The Body Keeps Score (2014), says that if we feel safe and loved, our brains become specialized in play, exploration, and cooperation. On the other hand, if you are scared and feeling unwanted, you will be dealing with feelings of fear and a sense of abandonment. It took many years for me to feel safe and loved.
For the most part, children and young adults take things in stride; but sometimes, if they have a difficult time expressing their feelings, their bodies give them messages. After my grandmother died, my parents fought a lot. It was difficult to watch and impossible to process. I believe my childhood asthma might have signaled that I was stressed by circumstances at home. According to the Cleveland Clinic, traumatized children have shown asthma rates fifty times higher than their peers. As an adolescent, I hung out with teens who took illegal drugs, and I stayed away from home as much as possible. I felt adrift, searching for a way to reconnect with Grandma. Now I’m left to wonder if the hummingbird visitations are a way to make that connection. Are her messages a way for me to heal from my grief both over losing her and over not being wanted by my mother?
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