The Sky Whisperer

 

“The Sky Whisperer”

A Story for My Daughter, Drawn from Spirit

There once was an eagle — wild and wise — with a crown of snow on his head and deep brown wings that held the stories of the earth. He lived high in the mountains, where the clouds bowed low and the wind sang secrets to those who listened.

I drew him for you, my little one — my daughter, just four years old — with a heart already so big it could carry the whole sky. You looked at him and said, “Mama, he sees everything.” And you were right.

Because this eagle is not just a bird.
He is a spirit.
A guide.
A messenger between earth and sky.

He flies not only with wings, but with soul. He can see across mountains and deserts, through forests and rivers. His eyes don’t just see — they understand. He reads hearts from far away, knowing who is truthful, who is lost, and who is ready to rise.

He teaches us that:

• Freedom comes not from running away, but from rising above.

• Clarity is found when we see from a higher place.

• Courage means soaring even when the winds are wild.

• Connection lives between the visible and the invisible — where souls speak louder than words.

He is a symbol of transformation — shedding the old feathers of fear, doubt, and heaviness — and trusting the skies to carry what comes next.

I see this eagle in you, my little girl.
In the way your eyes hold curiosity.
In your fierce love and quiet strength.
In how you understand things not yet spoken.

You are my eagle child —
born to be wild,
born to feel deeply,
born to fly where others won’t dare.

And when you grow up, I hope you’ll remember:
That you have wings.
That you carry spirit.
That no matter how far I am — I will feel you.
Like the eagle feels the wind.
Like souls feel each other through the sky.

So I drew him — this wise, sky-whispering guardian — not just for your wall, but for your heart.
To remind you that you were always meant to fly.

– Mama (Vera)
Five Wonders Art

Wisdom in Her Eyes

 

Wisdom in Her Eyes – A Portrait of a Hupa Elder

Her name has been lost to time, but her eyes still speak.

She was a Hupa woman, born into the sacred forests of Northern California in 1853. In the lines of her face, I saw mountains. In the tilt of her chin, I saw resistance. And in her eyes — I saw wisdom that stretched beyond centuries.

The Hupa people have lived in the Hoopa Valley along the Trinity River for thousands of years. Known for their deep relationship with nature, the river, and the redwoods, they are a people of ceremony, of vision, of earth-bound spirituality. Like many indigenous tribes, they endured colonization, forced assimilation, broken treaties — yet never forgot who they were.

This old woman, wrapped in woven cloth, hair silver and wild, did not wear her age with sorrow. She wore it like a warrior’s crown. I loved drawing every detail of her portrait — the strong cheekbones, the patterns etched by the sun, the softness that held strength like fire wrapped in wool.

When I draw indigenous people, I don’t just see a face — I see a living archive of truth. A mirror of the soul. A sacred connection that the modern world has forgotten.

The Hupa, like many noble tribes, never stopped standing for their freedom. They fought for their land, their language, their rights, their dignity. And in many ways, they still fight — not with weapons, but with ceremony, presence, and memory.

To me, indigenous people remind us of something that cannot be colonized: the spirit.
They remind me of the wildness within us, of the sacredness in nature, of the whispers of God in wind and water. They carry the old wisdom — not written in books, but carved into bone, sung into the air, woven into baskets, and held in the eyes of elders.

Eyes like hers.

When I drew her portrait, I didn’t want to change anything. I wanted to honour her. Every line, every wrinkle, every shadow — a symbol of resilience. She didn’t ask to be remembered, but she deserves to be. Through art, I want her story to live.

Because in her gaze, I saw a prayer.
Not for revenge.
Not for glory.
But for us — the disconnected ones — to remember.

To remember who we are.
To return to soul.
To live with earth.
To see spirit in everything.

That’s why I draw.

That’s why I honour indigenous people through my art — to keep sacredness visible in a world that too often forgets.

— Vera
Five Wonders Art