If We Want To Heal The World
A lesson from the woods outside my window
I was working at my desk when a flash of red caught my eye. Looking up, I saw a magnificent red-shouldered hawk perched on a bare branch in the winter woods beyond my window. With the leaves gone, I had a perfect view of what unfolded next – a masterclass in community protection without hatred.
The hawk sat so perfectly still that I first mistook him for part of the tree. His posture suggested he was taking in the day, sunning himself in the weak winter light.
The blue jays, however, had other ideas about his presence in their territory.
Within minutes, a dozen of these bright-blue sentinels had gathered on surrounding branches, all attention focused intently on the visitor. I could almost hear their indignant bird-language communications: This is not your place. You are not welcome here.
The hawk remained unmoved, calm, regal, seemingly unbothered by the gathering resistance.
Soon, a gray squirrel joined the protest. He paraded back and forth on a branch just feet from the predator, deliberately turning his back to the hawk and flicking his tail in rapid, agitated movements. It was both a warning signal to other woodland creatures and a clear message to the hawk: We see you. We know you're here.
Still, the hawk maintained his dignified stillness.
The blue jays, emboldened by their growing numbers, escalated their response. One brave soul swooped directly past the hawk's face, close enough to ruffle the feathers on his head. Seeing this success, another jay followed suit, flying so near that the hawk's tail feathers quivered in the wake.
I could sense their pride: Look what we did! We're protecting our home!
Yet the hawk didn't retaliate. He didn't attack. He simply continued his patient vigil.
The final tipping point came when the resident crows—the wise elders of the woods—arrived and positioned themselves directly above the hawk's head.
Only then did the hawk finally spread his magnificent wings and glide away.
The woodland community had accomplished its goal through collective, nonviolent action.
No creature was harmed, and the perceived threat was addressed without bloodshed or lasting animosity.
It was protection, not aggression.
Something important must have been happening in the blue jay community that day —perhaps nests with vulnerable young—because I've witnessed other times when hawks, crows, blue jays, and squirrels have peacefully coexisted in these same woods.
Noticing the news unfold across our troubled world today, I keep returning to this woodland scene outside my window.
The forest residents possess something we humans seem to have lost—a balanced understanding of protection without hatred and of community defense without vengeance.
They don't plan elaborate revenge. They don't kill for glory or ideology, unlike us.
We will never free ourselves from cycles of violence and terrorism if we continue responding with hatred, revenge, or misguided notions of glory. When we do, we feed the monster that devours us all.
The antidote begins within each of us, finding this delicate balance between protection and understanding.
When we view any group of people as less than human, we become capable of acting inhumanely ourselves.
When we allow mass media and angry voices to direct our attention toward hatred and retaliation, we step into an unending cycle that could eventually consume our shared humanity.
If you're reading this, I know this isn't the world you want to create.
We each must cultivate enough love within ourselves to extend it both to innocent victims caught in cycles of violence and to those who have become victims of propaganda and hatred that lead them to commit harmful acts.
We cannot participate in any form of intolerance. Every manifestation of evil throughout human history has emerged because we failed to understand a fundamental truth: there is not one race, person, religion, or nation superior to another.
We cannot allow anyone—political leaders, media figures, or influential voices—to lead us down that destructive path.
I don't pretend to have political solutions. In fact, I doubt lasting answers will ever come from political systems built on polarization and power struggles.
I know that ordinary people must lead the way—not through politics and warfare, but through compassion, understanding, and loving protection.
Just like the blue jays, crows, and squirrels—not motivated by prejudice and not driven by hate—but guided by the same deep understanding they instinctively possess: that we are all part of one Life. One.
What our wounded world needs now is more love, awareness, tolerance, compassion, and open-heartedness.
We can be, as scripture tells us, "as wise as serpents, and as harmless as doves" (Matthew 10:16).
We can refuse to become carriers of terrorist thoughts and actions within our own hearts and minds.
It isn't easy to respond to hatred with love. But there is no other way forward that doesn't lead to our collective destruction.
The wisdom for healing our world has always been right outside our windows, if only we have eyes to see and the wisdom to follow divine direction.
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