In the Company of Owls

The owl is a messenger.

It is one of the only known animals that fly between the realms of the living and the dead, between earth and the heavens, between the underworld and middle earth.

The messages it brings foretell many things.

Sometimes the owl foretells the feature, bringing in its beak some token of good fortune or misfortune that only the intended is the one to interpret.

 Other times it comes to let someone know that a loved one has passed over into the Otherworld, serving as some kind of psychopomp to guide the spirit to the next phase of its afterlife journey.

Then the owl occasionally comes by just as a nocturnal visitor perched upon the highest branch of a nearby tree outside your window, relating to you all of the night’s secrets and what it portends for you.

During the cold winter months, when everything is still, except for a passing breeze rustling the sleeping branches of trees, the owl searches for its mate in its timeless ritual of finding its lover once more, calling back and forth between the branches in order to encounter a new resting place for the coming Spring where the miracle of life begins anew.

It is also the watchful hunter, the predator with talons and beak so sharp, lurking in the shadows of night to catapult down from the sky, spreading its massive wings that will help it to capture its prey within a moment and gone the next.

All of these things the owl brings. Hope and Joy, Sadness and Regret. Some fear them while others adore them, depending on what their cultural significance is to the greater community and for personal reasons too.

Personally, the owl is my friend. Calling out to me atop a neighboring tree each month when the moon is full and round, the owl pays me a visit to let me know of its goings on and other things greater than myself put together.

I have learned to trust the owl for I do not know what it will tell me next. I anxiously await its next arrival, never knowing when it will appear but certain that it will when the time is right.

Say what you will, but the owl, like the rest of Nature, speaks to me. It may not always be clear what it is trying to relate although I try very hard to listen to what it has to say. Who knows, maybe something good is coming my way or a threat is near and I am grateful for the early warning.

It is my guide and companion of the night, keeping me in tune with the night, the moon and their mysteries, and honing in on my intuition. It comes to help me along in my life, pushing me towards new ventures yet to be explored, of good things, tidings to come.

I hope that I may hear its sweet and haunting call again in the silence of the night.

The owl is my messenger.