What the Crows Taught Me About Listening

Years ago, I was living in Oxnard, California, when I was awakened one morning by an incredible racket outside my bedroom window.

Crows.

So many of them, and they were making more noise than I had ever heard from the birds in my neighborhood.

At first, I wondered if I was still dreaming. Then I worried something had happened—or was about to happen. An earthquake? Some kind of natural disaster?

I got out of bed and went to the window.

What I saw looked like chaos.

Some crows were sitting on power lines. Others had gathered on neighboring rooftops. And then I began watching groups of crows flying toward one another.

They were coming from all four directions—North, South, East, and West.

They would fly toward the center at the same time, appearing as though they might collide, and then somehow pass one another. Another group would come. And another. Other crows circled overhead.

At first, I thought they were attacking each other.

But the longer I watched, the more I began to notice a pattern.

It didn’t seem chaotic anymore.

It seemed almost ritualistic.

Curious, I turned on the television to see if something was happening.

That was when I was reminded of the date.

September 11th.

The anniversary ceremony was taking place, and the names of those who had died were being read aloud.

At certain moments, the reading stopped and a gong sounded, marking the times of the attacks and the crash of Flight 93 in Pennsylvania.

Then the names continued.

And outside my window, so did the crows.

I stood there watching both.

The ceremony on television.

The ceremony outside my window.

And then the final name was read.

The crows stopped flying.

The noise ceased.

Everything became quiet.

I didn’t know anyone who died on September 11th. I didn’t know why those crows had gathered outside my bedroom window that particular morning. And I certainly didn’t understand what I had just witnessed.

But I was in awe.

I have never witnessed anything like it since.

Years later, I think I understand a little more about what that morning offered me.

The crows—the natural world—showed me a process.

Chaos got my attention.

The noise made me stop and listen.

Listening made me curious.

Curiosity made me stay at the window and observe rather than turn away.

And as I watched more closely, what had initially looked like chaos began to reveal a pattern—a ritual unfolding from North, South, East, and West.

Then came awe.

I didn’t understand what I was witnessing. Perhaps understanding wasn’t what was being asked of me.

Something had been planted.

A seed.

That morning taught me that grief and chaos don’t always need to be immediately explained or fixed. Sometimes we need a place to bring them. A ritual that allows us to stop, become quiet, listen, witness, and remember our connection to something larger than ourselves.

It is in that spirit that I invite you to join me for the Voices of Earth Summit, launching October 5, 2026.

Our world gives us plenty of chaos to get our attention. Voices come at us from every direction—different backgrounds, beliefs, cultures, experiences, and perspectives. It can be difficult to hear one another. Sometimes it can be difficult even to hear ourselves.

What if we choose a different kind of ritual?

We gather.

We breathe.

We listen.

We become curious about what is asking for our attention.

And we create space for ourselves and for one another.

We don’t have to agree with someone in order to listen to their story. Listening can help us move beyond the noise of our differences and begin to recognize our shared humanity.

Listening is the beginning of healing.

As we remember this September 11th, I invite you to carry that spirit of listening and connection into the Voices of Earth Summit—for ourselves, for one another, and for the world we share.

Join me for the Voices of Earth Summit
Launching October 5, 2026

I may never know why those crows gathered outside my bedroom window on that particular September morning.

But nature didn’t need to give me an explanation.

It gave me an experience.

And perhaps, all these years later, I am still discovering the seeds it planted.

With love,
Cindy

P.S. Don’t miss this upcoming summit, join me here!