Wisdom of the Owl . . .

Penetrating the Darkness

Wisdom of the Owl

For as long as humankind has recognized animals 

as teachers, wise men and women have 

recognized traits worth of respect in both wild

and domestic creatures. The cultural and spiritual

significance of certain animals transcends

geographical boundaries, unifying disparate

peoples. Not so the majestic and mysterious owl,

which has over many millennia served as the

focal point of numerous contradictory beliefs.

Though owls have been regarded with awe

and fascination, they have also inadvertently served

as agents of fear. Since owls are nocturnal,

human-owl encounters tend to occur at night

and likely when the bird was swooping silently

down to earth to grapple with prey. Yet even as

some shied away from the owl, calling it an agent

of darkness, others recognized the depth of 

awareness in beautiful owl's eyes.

In classical Greek tradition, an owl could often

be found perched on the shoulder of Athena,

goddess of wisdom, while owls could ward off bad

luck in Roman lore. It is in Native American

mythos, however, that the owl attains its own

unique identity. Owls are patient messengers,

bringers of information and holders of

wisdom, and they are capable of seeing the

unseen. With their keen eyesight, they can glance 

into the soul to discern meaning and motive, and

they are totems of truth. Unlike our distant

forbearers, we may never encounter an owl in the

wild, but we can nonetheless internalize the

wisdom of the owl by attuning ourselves to its

most venerable qualities. Fully integrating the

medicine of the owl into spiritual existence is a

matter of considering how we might open

ourselves more fully to the wisdom that can be

found in the larger universe.

Should you find your efforts blocked as you 

commune with the owl, remember that it was not

always revered as an icon of wisdom. This

denizen of the nighttime has overcome many

prejudices in its long association with humankind.

To reveal those hidden elements of the self that

impact your life for better or worse, you must

often make your way through the darkest parts of

your soul as if you are the nocturnal 

hunter. There is indeed darkness both inside the

self and outside the self, but like the owl, you can

transcend it by drawing nourishment from the

insights you receive when you penetrate it.

My Cupid, Otto xxoo!

This piece arrived via e-mail to me the day after Valentine's day (ummm, okay, which was just yesterday . . . I'm heading out, tomorrow, to get a real job, for the sole reason to know what the hell day it is), which was a surprisingly awful day, given how I just went on and on in my last post about how sentimental a holiday it wasn't for Bob and me. It didn't start out that way—it was actually, mostly, a very low-key, precious, self-care kind of day (spent with my Cupid, Otto, followed by a kick-ass kettle bell workout), but ended in a flurry of sucker-punches that surprised and scared the livin' bejezus out of me. Funny, how a "good!" day (and I use "good" in quotes, as I often did with Bob when he had rare "good" day. . . all relative at this point) can end up in the toilet, with the flush of a handle . . . guess that's bound to happen when a fresh widow (despite the fact that everyone else's lives clip happily along, I'm still a young'un, in widow years! It's the only facet in my life that I feel young. . .) gets hammered with relentless reminders of  COUPLES! and LOVE! and HAPPINESS! all day long . . . widowhood ain't for wimps, I'm tellin' ya, peeps, but right now, I'm feeling as wimpy as they come and am not a worthy member of this group . . . 

Anyhoooooo (no, I haven't scored that Rx for Ritalin yet, in case you were wondering), The Wisdom of the Owl was sent by a dear friend, also a widow, who also knows my owl story, and as I mentioned, it arrived in my inbox the day after my traumatic v.d. Not kidding. At 9:27 a.m., there it was. I was surprised by the serendipitous timing of the message, so moved that she thought of Bob and me when she saw it and sent it on probably the best day she could have possibly sent it . . . I wanted to share it on this blog, and was just going to copy and past it from her e-mail. But, for some damn reason, it wouldn't paste. I tried and tried, many times, but the "paste" kept appearing as the title of a book I'd been searching for online, for my night class. Seriously? WTF is going on??!! I am damn certain I never copied and pasted that, at any point. . . so , I had to type The Wisdom of the Owl, word for word, from Suzann's e-mail, to this entry. . . as I typed each word, its message sank deeper and deeper within me . . . wisdom of the ow at work . . .

I got a really sweet e-mail message from one of my nieces tonight. She's so excited to turn 18 this year, and when she does, she told me, she wants to get a tattoo of an owl, in memory of Bob. I cried when I saw this . . . she'd like to come to my house and go through his photographs and have one designed from his work . . . I'm tellin' ya, owls have and always will, link me forever to Bob, and all who knew and loved him . . . and even those who didn't know him, in his earthly form . . .