When the Eagle and the Condor Fly Together
A Meditation by Rev. Cameron Trimble
“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” — Arundhati Roy, author
Recently I spent some time with the extraordinary leadership team of the Pachamama Alliance. They reminded me of a story I once knew but had not remembered for some time. It’s an important prophesy for these days as we seek not just what to resist but also what to live for.1 It goes like this…
There’s a story whispered among Indigenous communities across the Americas. It’s been passed down through generations—not as a warning, but as a promise. The story tells of two great birds: the Eagle and the Condor.
The Eagle comes from the North, carrying the gifts of the mind—rational thought, technology, strategy, and vision. It flies high, fast, with a clarity that cuts through confusion. The Condor comes from the South, carrying the gifts of the heart—intuition, feeling, embodied wisdom, and connection to the sacred. Its flight is slower, its presence closer to the ground, its knowledge drawn from silence and ceremony.
For hundreds of years, the prophecy says, the Eagle would dominate the skies. The world would be shaped by intellect and invention, but at a cost. The more we prized progress, the more we severed relationship—with the land, with one another, and even with ourselves. As the Eagle flew higher, the Condor was nearly forgotten.
But the story doesn’t end there.
The prophecy also tells of a time when the Eagle and the Condor would fly together once more. A time when the world, exhausted by imbalance, would begin to remember that the mind and the heart were never meant to be split apart. That time, some elders say, is now.
We are living in a moment between stories. We feel the ache of what’s breaking—ecological collapse, political unraveling, the erosion of truth and trust. But beneath the despair, there is a deeper longing—a longing for home, for kinship, for a life that makes sense not just in our minds, but in our bones.
We are aching not only because things are falling apart, but because we remember—somewhere inside—that things could be different.
This moment calls us to become something more whole than we have been. We are not to discard the gifts of the Eagle, but to temper them with the wisdom of the Condor. We should not retreat into nostalgia or cynicism, but to live as if balance were still possible. Because it is.
To walk with both wings is not a metaphor. It is a way of being in the world. It is a way of seeing every policy, every prayer, every act of love or protest, as part of the great remembering. We are not here simply to mourn what is dying. We are here to help midwife what is being born.
Let us become people who remember the prophecy—not as myth, but as mandate. Let us become people who refuse to give up on the future, because the future has not given up on us.
The sky is still wide enough for both wings. The Earth is still willing to welcome us home. And the story is still being written.
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
Where in your life have you been flying with only one wing—over-relying on mind or heart, intellect or intuition?
What memories, dreams, or values stir in you when you hear the story of the Eagle and the Condor?
What might it mean for you to live as part of the “great remembering” in your community or vocation?
A Prayer for the Day
A Prayer for Returning to Balance
O Spirit who is sky and soil, Make us humble enough to listen to the Earth And brave enough to imagine a future that honors Her. May we remember the wisdom of the heart As we wield the tools of the mind. May we learn to move at the pace of trust, To create from a place of reverence, And to choose again—each day—the way of kinship. May we become a generation Worthy of the prophecy. Worthy of the world we long for. Amen.
Spiritual Practice
Walking with Both Wings
Find a space where you can take a walk outdoors—whether in a park, on a trail, or simply around your neighborhood.
As you walk, hold the image of the Eagle and the Condor. Let each footstep represent the balance between mind and heart. Notice when your thoughts try to lead alone. Gently invite your body to speak too—through breath, sensation, or emotion.
Pause halfway through your walk and place your hand on your chest. Ask: What does my heart know that my mind has forgotten?
Then resume your walk, carrying that wisdom forward—toward a world in which both wings are welcome, and all life can thrive.
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Listen to Pachamama Alliance co-founder, Lynne Twist, tell the story…
Thank you. The story fits in a good way.
My heart knows that this story is a glimpse - a prophetic glance in a direction. We perish without a vision. But the Palantir we hold also holds us in its grasp. We cannot look away. The Palantir distorts our visions. Discernment is largely a matter of the heart.
Recalling David Suzuki’s recent warning - I see that corporations and governments will not protect humans or the biosphere, but will continue to enclose and consume both.
We are being brought very close to the earth indeed. We are being re-wilded and re-grounded. My heart tells me that perhaps a remnant of humans will survive this rapid, anthropogenic extinction event - but perhaps not.
My heart also tells me that who we become in relationship to all of our kin is what matters now.
We must not teach our children to anchor hope in visions of the future, but rather in visions of loving relationship here and now as the tsunamis of change continue.
We must teach our children that we are enclosed and commodified by an ecocidal, genocidal civilization. We must teach our children that the institutions that claim to make a way for life are actively engaged in destroying life.
Our civilization could best be called a future eater. We have found a way to reach into the future and to take resources from it and to dump toxins into it that cannot be metabolized in time scales relevant to the life of the living biosphere with which we are one.
We must teach our children that we midwife a possible future by embracing our absolute vulnerability and choosing to love - come what may.
The intellectual and religious “product” that is acceptable to the Eagle centers humanity as the eternal God who manages the biosphere. We must teach our children not to do this.
We must teach our children that we are born, we live, and we die. This is true for individuals and for species. We must teach our children that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. We are here to learn to love. We are not here to achieve eternal life - as individuals or as a species. We must teach our children this as well.
For me right now, the Eagle and the Condor flying together also tell us that we are made of earth and sky, and that we are made to love, and that we will fall back to earth one day as well. We midwife the future by flying together in loving relationship while we are here. We do not produce or control the future that emerges, but rather we bear witness and create a temporary loving space for that emergence.
I trust that more people will enter into this conversation. I share these intuitions my heart.
While in Ireland right now, having been on my own pilgrimage, my own journey, called Turas D'Anam, or "Journey of the Soul," I just came across this beautiful prophecy you wrote about. I was in a recent online workshop with Lynne Twist in which she spoke of this, and I am thrilled to see that you have included a link for your subscribers to listen to Lynne, herself, share the prophecy.
Rev. Cameron, thank you for the Truth being spoken, for being reliable for being a clearing for Faith, for Trust, for being a Stand for Possibility, and for Compassion and the Unity of Being. We are indeed, all in this together, including those of us who are not yet aware of the damage that that we are causing.