Sightings

Low clouds are moving light tonight, in a swift north-westerly direction, and Seven Sisters hang in the sky over the roof of my house, a sight I do not often see this time of year.  It is late, but the stagnant, heavy air that has hovered over us the past few days has given chase, and I am restless.  Sleep has not come easily to me, these two nights past--or perhaps it is that I have not sought it. So, a bedtime story...

This morning, while making my way toward something I hoped might propel me on a new trajectory, a few words on the radio caught my attention.  An Arctic owl was found dead earlier this week, along the I35 corridor in northern Minnesota.

This reminded me that I had awoken earlier that morning to a dream in which there appeared a very large grey and white owl, bigger than any I've seen.  I was out in a canoe, on open water, and first spotted it some way across the lake, hovering as if to dive and catch a fish, as an osprey or an eagle would.  Moments later it plunged, feet first, down into the water, fully submerging for a few seconds before rising up to hover and descend, once again, this time only a few yards away.  I wondered at its great size, its beauty, its uncharacteristic behavior, and waited to see what it might have caught. Its proximity elicited in me a sense of profound awe, mingled with that certain sort of excitement one feels in the presence of wild and magnificent things. Within my next breaths I became aware of my mother's presence in the canoe with me, and the owl, which was now nearly overhead, plunged into the water right beside us, little more than an arm's length away.

Apparently someone was "tweeting" on behalf of the snowy owl that died, some nonsense about its spirit and intentions and all angels having white wings.  It makes me wonder... I can't help but wonder, how many humans still are visited by animal spirits, in flesh or in dreams, and how many of those yet comprehend the language of such calls. Would it were more, and would I were one of them.