A Visit from Owl


“To seek freedom is the only driving force I know. Freedom to fly off into that infinity out there. Freedom to dissolve; to lift off; to be like the flame of a candle, which, in spite of being up against the light of a billion stars, remains intact, because it never pretended to be more than what it is: a mere candle.”  ~  Don Juan Matus (Carlos Castaneda)

“I need the thing that happens when your brain shuts off and your heart turns on.”  ~  Elizabeth Wurtzel

“Consciousness was upon him before he could get out of the way.”  ~  Kingsley Amis

“These poets and other creative persons are the ones who express being itself, he held. As I would put it, these are the ones who enlarge human consciousness. Their creativity is the most basic manifestation of a man or woman fulfilling his or her own being in the world.” ~  Rollo May

This warm morning has got me squirming a bit. Maybe it’s just the thought of mud? When I say warm I am referring to 35º at 5:48 AM. It just doesn’t feel right, yet I remind myself that I am a firm believer in the phrase “Nature makes no mistakes”. I suppose I could make some more coffee. That and some ibuprofen might be nice. Headache and body aches. The sore left shoulder remains a mystery. I have what the lovely physical therapist, Alicia, called a “piano key injury”. It without doubt came from a bicycle crash, I just don’t know which crash brought it on; one of four is about as accurate as I can be. But it rarely bothers me, except when reaching wrong, which might cause a twinge. But the past few days it has been painful to the point of my moaning more than I care to. At 62 years old I accept that a moan or two can be expected, but this shoulder had me going yesterday. Ouch. Poor me, right? Yeh. Luckily today is the big massage day. I say big because it has been seven maybe eight years since the last one.

“And if anyone knows anything about anything,” said Bear to himself, “it’s Owl who knows something about something,” he said, “or my name’s not Winnie-the-Pooh,” he said. “Which it is,” he added. “So there you are.”  ~  Winnie the Pooh

The clouds have thickened and come lower. There is a close feeling to the minutes just before dawn. As I sat on the deck, just now, I was startled by a sound, an indistinct rustle that eased into the sound of a large bird taking flight from the utility shed on the other side of the yard. I’m guessing it had to be an owl at this time of the morning. I could see no more than a fleeting shadow against the sky. Good thrill, that one. Of course my mind goes straight to Totem Medicine. So I looked it up, and I found that the description resonates with where my head is at today. Good. Life without omens would be so trite. Certainly, the long association of Owl with death is something that might bother some folks. I’m not too concerned about that. And its association with dark magick? Same, same. But I should add that I pay more heed to the dark magick thingy, simply because I have a propensity for bumping into dark magick much more than I care too; it’s been that way for years. So dude is there like some bruja lurking dude? Yeh, on and off for months now, but she, or they, know better. I can get testy when my spiritual well-being is rattled. I can defend myself dude, k? Whatever, dude.

It is time to wrap up today’s post. The dawn is just begun and the day feels like a good one. I am both excited and nervous about the massage at 10 AM. The nervousness comes because a lot of the area where I will ask her to focus holds a bundle of trauma stored in muscle memory. A bundle like that is ripe pickings for PTSD, which I have. It comes from the bicycle accident back in ’84, which nearly killed me, or maybe actually did kill me and I came back. That’s when the NDE happened as well, which might suggest the latter is true. There was no one there to check me out when I went down, so there is no way of knowing. Regardless. The 33rd anniversary of that fateful day only mere weeks away. This time of year always makes me thoughtful, for that very reason. It is not a morose nor an enlightened feel of the season, it is a pulsing sense of wonder at this very thing that is life. Who doesn’t love a good mystery? It would not only be trite it would be tragically boring to know everything. And how are you today, Mr. Trump?

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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