You may wonder why I named my business Blackbird. Partly, it’s from a favorite song, the Beatles’ Blackbird (I also love the Sarah MacLachlan version). In particular, I love the line, “Take these broken wings and learn to fly.” I appreciate that acknowledgement that after a challenge, we may not be the same as we were before. Our difficult experiences change us. That doesn’t mean, though, that we can’t go on to do incredible things; I’ve seen people come out of horrific circumstances and do astonishing things that heal themselves and the world. The blackbird, then, seemed a good metaphor for what I’m trying to do: Help organizations take something painful and turn it into an opportunity for growth and connection. To learn to sing in the dead of night, and take these broken wings and learn to fly.
The other piece that drew me to this name came on a trip to Alaska. In Alaska, the ravens aren’t like they are in the lower 48. They’re enormous–the size of bald eagles, with seven foot wing spans. They’re mesmerizing. They’ve also learned to mimic the sounds of human voices— they can’t talk as clearly as a parrot, but they mumble. The Alaskans say they mutter. It’s like a whisper from across the room. You can’t make out the specifics, but you know someone is talking. The Alaska natives believe that when they die, they become ravens, and so the whispering birds that accompany them as they walk their dogs or head to work are their ancestors.
I am not an Alaska native, and cannot adequately express or even understand the cultural resonance the raven has for those indigenous people. I do know that ravens and crows have always felt special to me. And it brings me enormous comfort as I work with difficult and painful situations to think that those who came before me lend their strength, whispering their wisdom and support.