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Years ago, I watched a red cardinal hurl himself at my window, again and again, convinced his own reflection was a rival.
He was vibrant—blazing red against the soft green spring—but obsessed. Determined. Fixated on a threat that wasn’t real.
Every morning, there he was: wings flared, eyes wild, launching himself into the glass. Again. And again. And again. At first, it was fascinating. Then disturbing. Eventually, heartbreaking.
Fighting himself was futile. But he did. Until he wore himself out.
“To fight a reflection is to drain your power in service of a lie.”
And yet, how often do we do exactly that? Condemning in others what we refuse to face in ourselves?
What we most fiercely reject is often a disowned part of our own shadow, mirrored back for integration, not attack. When we fight those reflections, we don’t just waste energy, we wound ourselves in the process.
What if anger isn’t the enemy, but a call to clarity?
When the Past Comes Knocking
Now, years later, the angry birds are back.
A new house. A new season. Yet the same sound. The rhythmic tap-tap-thud of tiny feet and beaks flinging themselves at glass. Different windows. Different birds. Same story.
Patterns recur when we haven’t quite learned the lesson.
And when cardinals show up, I pay attention.
In many Indigenous and spiritual traditions, cardinals are considered messengers. Sacred signals. They remind us to stay present, to listen to the voice of our spirit, and to transform fire into focused motion.
Some say they are loved ones visiting. Others say they symbolize vitality, devotion, or renewal.
To me, they’re crimson-cloaked guardians—fierce little teachers wrapped in flame.
And this time, the message was unmistakable:
What are you still fighting that isn’t even real anymore?
What anger are you carrying that no longer deserves your energy?
What might be possible if you redirected that fire into creation instead of conflict?
Anger Is a Signal, Not a Solution
Anger, like the cardinal, comes knocking when something we care about feels threatened.
It shows up when our values feel violated.
When our boundaries are crossed.
When our voice or our dignity is dismissed.
In that way, anger is intelligent. Sacred, even.
It says:
“Something here matters. Something here needs to change.”
But if anger goes unexamined or unexpressed with intention, it starts to devour the very things it came to defend—our health, clarity, relationships, peace.
It inflames the body.
It narrows the mind.
It distorts our view, just like the glass distorted the cardinal’s.
As the old saying goes:
“You are not punished for your anger. You are punished by your anger.”
From Reaction to Redirection
The cardinal didn’t know he was fighting a reflection. But we can learn.
We can pause before we strike.
We can ask better questions.
We can redirect the fire.
Anger reveals what we value—freedom, fairness, truth, belonging. But instead of charging forward blindly, we can ask:
What is this anger really trying to tell me?
What need or boundary is being illuminated?
Is the threat real, or just familiar?
What would it look like to act from clarity, not reflex?
Redirection doesn’t mean suppression.
It means conscious choice. It means using energy to build instead of burn.
What If We Used Anger to Build?
Imagine a world where we transmute anger into refined vision.
Where needs are met with compassion, not control.
Where resources are shared with wisdom, not hoarded from fear.
Where leadership is rooted in service, not ego.
Where advocacy and empathy coexist.
We may not dismantle every broken system overnight. But we can stop bruising our spirit against glass. We can stop pouring our life force into illusions. And we can start building the world we actually want to live in.
Because clarity, not combat, is what transforms.
Nature Speaks—If We Listen
To me, nature isn’t just backdrop. It’s dialogue.
It mirrors what’s happening inside us. It offers metaphor, medicine, and meaning.
The redbird’s relentless knocking wasn’t just noise. It was a nudge.
Don’t do what he’s doing. Don’t spend your precious energy attacking illusions.
Let the anger rise. Let it speak.
Then let it guide you somewhere wiser.
Because when you really listen, nature teaches what no sermon or self-help book ever could.
Loving Others Through Their Loops
Not everyone is ready to redirect their rage.
Some will keep charging the glass, convinced their pain lives outside of them. They’ll see enemies where there are only echoes.
And it’s hard to watch—especially when it’s someone you love.
But their journey is their own.
You can hold compassion without becoming a punching bag.
You can be a mirror without being a target.
You can love someone and still choose peace.
When anger knocks again…
Pause.
Breathe.
Listen.
Don’t deny it. Don’t demonize it. But don’t hand it the keys, either.
Let it sharpen your vision.
Let it deepen your purpose.
Let it move you toward your mission, not away from your center.
Because in the end, the fiercest battles are often fought in mirrors.
And you were made for more than fighting refections.
~
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