I believe in magic.
We did a home office shuffle a few weeks ago. I set up our guest room as an office because really, who is sleeping over these days? I unloaded the dresser from my girlhood, pink bedroom on Next Door within 8 hours and VOILA! we had an office with a door…the only one in the house.
Eric, my husband, came upstairs. Since March’s shelter-in-place, he’d been working in a pass-through space downstairs off our family room which was my home office when I ran SGS Design Studio until 2009.
He leaned against the guest room doorway, “What’s this?”
I smiled, spun in the desk chair, and stretched my arms wide, “An office with a door!”
He pouted. “It’s nice.”
I knew it. “You want it, don’t you?”
Eric is a gentle soul. Tarot reader Marlene Caldes astutely pointed out that “he treads softly on this earth.”
It’s true, he does. And, I wanted him to have this office with the door. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think it’s because I was feeling super generous in the moment. I think I relinquished it so quickly because I actually wanted my downstairs space back. I didn’t realize it, but I was creating a space for him, so that I could have a space for me. Eric gets distracted easily by the puppies wrestling, growling, and running in and out of the room. Me, on the other hand, when I’m lost in thought or particularly focused, I can tune you out if you’re standing right in front of me talking straight into my face.
So we switched.
He moved upstairs with his multiple monitors, Star Wars artwork (we all need an engaging Zoom backdrop), and desk strewn with post-its. I moved downstairs, cleaned out old cabinets, rearranged furniture, and purchased some IKEA pieces to make it all feel intentional. It felt like coming home…I found client files from 2005, old business cards, and notebooks with sketches, ideas, and client meeting notes that felt so exciting at the time. No more dining room table, makeshift living room corner, or using her bedroom until she comes home from college. I had a new home and I was excited to make it my own again. For the me of 2020.
Right before this office move, I texted a friend, “I keep getting visited by hummingbirds.”
“Hummingbirds often appear in your life after a season of big change and they are a positive omen after a period of turmoil that signifies things are being pieced back together.”
At my makeshift upstairs desk, a hummingbird would often zip up to the window, hover at my eye-level and lock my gaze. Then, zip—it was gone. This didn’t just happen once. It was a regular thing.
“The hummingbird is letting you know that everything has happened for a reason. At the moment when a hummingbird visits you, they are resonating with your energy of choosing a higher version of yourself.”
During a desk break or after a long Zoom call, I’d step out onto our deck. Leaning against the railing, looking above the tree tops into the valley and then suddenly, but never startlingly, a hummingbird would float up into my field of vision, check me out, and then zip—it was gone. A quick hello.
“If hummingbirds sense an increased flow of spiritual energy around someone, they will often fly by to check it out.”
It took me a few weeks to settle into my new and improved office space downstairs. I rotated my new, white IKEA table so that it was perpendicular to the large picture window in my space. My view outside was partially shaded by our deck overhead. The chair from Dreyer’s Ice Cream shop in Oakland, CA that my grandmother gave me as a child faced my desk ready for a visitor. The painting I purchased from @messengerbird was on the wall above. The new IKEA filing cabinet and the two IKEA lounge chairs (only $38 each!) were nestled behind me for daily visits from my daughters. The dogs took turns on the new, round rug. It was beginning to feel like a new home.
One sunny day, like many days, I gave my eyes a break from the computer screen and gazed at the valley outside my window watching the cars going back-and-forth over the hill into Fairfax.
And then, there it was in my peripheral vision. My hummingbird. Hovering UNDER our deck, at my eye-level, arms-length from the big picture window.
We locked eyes.
“You found me,” I smiled out loud.
My heart fluttered. With a quick, slight head tilt, the hummingbird paused for a moment to consider me, then off it flew.
While 2020 has shown me the comfort of relaxing into an old, familiar space, it’s also offered up the excitement of turning something familiar into something fresh and new.
I’ve been visited repeatedly by hummingbirds.
And, through it all, I still believe in magic.