When Bear Keeps Knocking

I sometimes dream about grizzly bears.

In these dreams, one is usually trying to get into my house. It stands up on the other side of a door, clawing against the wood, breaking glass panes, as I try to lock the deadbolt and keep it out.

Not the most pleasant dream.

But bears and I go way back.

A soul reader told me almost 25 years ago that brown bear is my spirit animal. “Big, brown bear,” she said. “Hulking big. Bears know where the healing herbs are.”

I liked this idea. I imagined the deadliest of grizzlies wandering through the woods, sniffing for ginseng and goldenseal, chamomile and peppermint.

A friend sent me a bear figurine as a gift a few years ago. He’s lying on his back, playfully waving his legs in the air. He sits on my bookshelf reminding me to relax.

Once, as I was collecting materials for a board retreat, I grabbed the bear.

I was gathering dozens of objects for an exercise: a rubber duck, sticky notes, a calculator, a coin that says “Better Together,” a blank journal, a screwdriver, a magnifying glass. The assignment was simple—attendees would select an object that represented a skill or talent they could bring to the board or to the organization’s next strategic plan.

I almost didn’t take the bear out of the bag.

I was worried someone might think it was weird. They would probably choose the deck of cards, the eraser, the box of mints, the flashlight, or the ruler. But on a whim, at the last minute, I placed the bear gently on the table with the other objects.

The bear was one of the first things chosen.

The person who grabbed it said, “I took the bear right away. I just love bears. They are strong, and they have a grounding presence.”

But Bear was not finished with me yet.

Later that week, on my way to the airport, I saw a black bear cub run up the hill next to the road. In 12 years of living on that road, I had never seen a bear.

And then, a few hours later at the airport, a guy brushed by me wearing a sweatshirt with a multicolored bear on it.

I said, “Okay, okay! What are you trying to tell me, Bear”?

When an animal—or a symbol, or a message—shows up again and again in a short period of time, do you ever pause to ask what it’s trying to tell you?

They say bear is about self-care. When bear shows up, it’s often a signal that it’s time for healing—either of yourself or others.

The grizzly bear is also about protection. Bear brings strength and confidence and the courage to stand against adversity. But it’s also a reminder to be cautious of your own assertiveness—or aggressiveness.

Okay, Bear. I hear you.

When I was about three or four, the Eckerts—our neighbors down the street—had a bear rug spread out on the floor in their library. A giant head all the way to four legs with three-inch claws. My siblings and I were fascinated by its permanently open mouth full of growling teeth. Every time we went over to swim in their pool, we would visit him. We would even try to slide down his head.

Even then, I knew Bear was not just about power and brute force. Bears are not just about being ready for the next battle or being a good fisherman when the salmon start running.

Bear is about rest. Bear is about play, too.

So now, I'm wondering: What if that bear in my dreams—the one clawing at my door—isn’t trying to break in to hurt me? What if it’s trying to break through because I’m locking out the very things I need most?

As you reflect on this, what might you be keeping locked outside that actually needs to come in?

Is it rest? 

Permission to play? 

The courage to be more assertive—or the wisdom to pull it back?

As human beings, we often spend so much time focused on what we can give, what we can build, what we can protect. But bear wisdom asks us to remember that strength without rest becomes depletion. Protection without play becomes rigidity. Assertiveness without self-awareness becomes aggression.

What might it look like if you stopped fighting your own bear at the door? What might happen if instead you invited your bear in for tea?

Maybe that’s the real message here. Not to keep whatever your bear is out, but to ask it to join you. To bring it inside, where you can be more playful, powerful, and unafraid together.

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