My wise and wonderful friend Amy Darland turned me onto the Native American concept of animal totems this morning.
I’ve spent about 15 minutes talking to her and another 5 on Wikipedia, so I’m not going to classify myself as an expert just yet. But what I can say is that I am 99% sure my relevant animal totem is a hummingbird.
Amy assured me that our animal totems tend to present themselves to us in obvious and dramatic ways. A few weeks ago, when I was minding my own business on Bria’s deck, a crazed hummingbird tried to kill me by flying head-on into my skull. It narrowly missed, but almost deafened me in the process. It was obviously trying to get my attention.
Also, when I was backpacking in the Santa Cruz Mountains last week, I was a little creeped out by the hovering presence of so many hummingbirds at our camp.
This is what the almighty internet has to say about hummingbird animal totems:
- Hummingbirds appear in our lives to remind us to seek joy within ourselves, and more poignantly, in nature. (This coincides nicely with my current campaign to get my boyfriend to move to the country with me. So far, he is not buying it, and I can virtually guarantee that the hummingbird revelation is not going to stir his compassion one iota.)
- Hummingbirds teach us to find healing in flowers and plants and to protect the environment. (Which is timely, considering I am on the cusp of starting a sustainable skincare line called SimpleBasic.)
- Hummingbirds bring us to the beauty of the present moment and help us solve the riddle of duality. (Just as I am discovering my inner Buddhist.)
Furthermore, in my research, I discovered that hummingbirds need to eat almost twice their weight, daily, to survive.
I can relate. And that explains a lot.
Oh, and in case any of you were wondering, no, my animal totem is not a slug.
