The Owl and Two White Feathers

This morning I’d just entered the grove of big cedars and firs up the path from our cottage and was looking at the oddly shaped yellow-brown fungus that had sprung up the other day when out of the corner of my eye I noticed a large shape fly overhead. ‘Not a crow, ‘ I thought, walking carefully forward until an owl’s compact grey body perched on a high branch came into view.

As I stopped, the owl jerked its small beaked face in my direction and turned it away several times. ‘Must be one of the barn owls that lives in this forest,’ I mused, amazed that after nine years of listening to plaintiff calls at dusk or early dawn,  one of these birds was finally showing itself to me. Each time the owl look in my direction I focussed intently on its dark eyes, feeling a strange excitement and awe at its presence. A few moments later, the bird lifted its wings and disappeared into the trees.

 As I continued on my walk, I felt the deep mystery of the forest and how it continually offers gifts to me—when I have the awareness to perceive them.

More alert now to what else might show itself to me, I crossed the creek and walked along the sun- drenched field, recently mowed of its long grass. Up ahead something white glistened in the grass—a white goose feather still moist with dew drops. I picked it up, brushed off the dew with my fingers, then scooped up another feather lying nearby and smoothed off the dew as well.

Back home, before recording my inspiring walk, I flipped through a book called Spirit of Place by Loren Cruden to discover that the owl is a totem of wisdom, vision, prophecy, and transformation, among other things.

What inspires you to write?  Are you ready to act on this inspiration?