The sandhill cranes arrived in Chicago; a powerful spiritual sign
Photo: Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash.
Today everything stopped when the sandhill cranes arrived. Not on a nature preserve, not out in the suburbs, but right along the downtown Chicago lakefront.
Can you believe that?
Against the backdrop of our towering skyline, these ancient, graceful birds descended for their brief layover, pausing on their long, southbound journey ahead of the full moon. It felt like a scene ripped right out of a dream, or maybe a celestial instruction manual.
For so long, these cranes have been seen by Indigenous Americans as spiritual messengers, symbols of longevity and profound transformation. In some traditions, they represent leadership and the gift of powerful, skilled speaking.
And here I am, packing up my life for my own long distance flight, heading westward over four thousand miles back to my native island of Oahu. I’m standing right in the middle of one of the most significant turning points I’ve ever known, a true life overhaul.
So, when I saw them, that sudden, rare appearance in our city, I could only interpret it as a great blessing. It felt like the universe knew exactly what I needed to see, exactly when I needed to see it. It was the physical manifestation of the sign I think I’ve been waiting for all this time, a resounding “Yes, you know what, you’re on the right path. Take a deep breath. The universe has you.”
That need for a sign, that call for a breath, it doesn’t just come from my own personal uncertainty. It’s an anxiety we’ve all been breathing in here in Chicago for months now, because this incredible, resilient place has been under a heavy kind of pressure.
We’ve watched major companies announce layoffs affecting thousands of workers, creating a ripple of financial insecurity that stretches across neighborhoods and families. Then you have the terrifying, brazen constitutional issues, like ICE and CBP occupying our streets, conducting sweeps and detaining individuals, including reports of US citizens being held. That’s a profound violation of safety and trust, shaking the core of what it means to be free here.
And if that weren’t enough, essential lifelines like SNAP benefits have been halted or drastically cut, forcing people who were already struggling into a crisis, relying more and more on community driven mutual aid groups just to put food on the table. Every time you turn on the news, whether it’s on the TV or that little glowing rectangle in your hand, there’s another headline that just piles onto that collective weight, where the anxiety is not just a low hum, but a constant, insistent static that clogs the airwaves.
So, for me, this isn’t just a personal spiritual moment, this sighting of the sandhill cranes, with the light catching their wings against this troubled cityscape, is a powerful, collective message of endurance and renewal. As an ordained kahu, this is not just coincidence, this is that God sent breath, that Ha, the divine breath of life, not just clearing my own vision, but maybe, just maybe, offering a moment of collective grace to this weary city. It’s a reminder that even when the mist is dark and the ground feels uncertain, the long journey continues, and the capacity for soaring transformation remains. I feel like I’ve been given permission, not just to go, but to soar, trusting that the path, for me and for the spirit of this city, is fundamentally sound.
