The Gift

Driving for home, it is late and I am tired. My heart begins to vibrate. I'm getting close to Elsewhere, that high place where understanding shifts. I can feel it coming.

What's this? The headlights illuminate a large bird lying in the road. His wing points straight up at the moon, signalling like a flag. How could the wind move his wing that way? I turn my truck around.

He's unconscious. I pick him up and weigh the situation. He's about the size of a cat. Hollow bones and powder-soft feathers make him look large, but he is very light. Nothing appears to be broken, however, he isn't out of the woods yet. I gently set him through the window of my camper top intent on seeing him in more light.

My dog welcomes us home with his usual song and dance. His routine barking spurs the owl to heroic effort. Of course, it does just that. Halfway to the house in the middle of the lawn with no place to set him down, an armful of wild-eyed raptor wakes up in my face!

Intuition becomes a tumultuous, heart-pounding intensity. A surge of adrenaline shoots up my spine and detonates my focus once it reaches my brain. Fragmented and paralyzed, I am suspended between all I know about birds and all I don't know about owls. Is the owl strong enough to put up a fight? If so, I am his most immediate obstacle. Should I let him go? Naturally, my dog jockeys for an opportunity to handle my problem for me.

I've never held a such a big bird before and this one's equipped with his own daggers! Even worse, he believes he's in danger. Amidst the calamity of mental and physical noise, my spirit begins to rise. I have more than fear to share with this owl. Using a gentle, sweet voice, I entice the dog to fall quietly in step behind me. The door to Elsewhere opens as I breathe deeply and use my emotion to escape this lower world. Listening to the silence between us buoys me up. All the things that are not happening fade away. I show the owl how I want him to be with me by being that for him. He responds by hiding in my arms. He's not looking for a getaway. Clearly, he is frightened, but he's following my lead. I gently press him close to my chest to comfort and contain him. Time expands again. We relax.

Inside a safe space, I become a steady perch for him by supporting my elbows on the floor. The owl sits on my wrist now. His back is to me. This tells me a lot about him. No parrot I know would be that brave. Parrots are prey animals that live in complex social groups . It is very unlike them to make themselves vulnerable to a stranger. They are notorious for hiding their weakness and putting all their energy into dominating a conversation. Owls are predators and loners. Who do they answer to? What kind of social skills do they have? Will this bird show me the truth about how he feels?

I walk my talk for him by keeping my face is very close to his head while we sit together. Outwardly, my proximity reinforces a very strong message about our mutual trustworthiness and intimacy. Inwardly, I watch the way he holds his body, the condition of his feathers, and the shape of his eyes to gauge how badly he is hurt. Does he feel threatened? Am I too close? Should I avoid looking directly into his eyes? I have a lot of questions for him. Judging by the grip he has on my wrist, my owl is not as calm as he appears to be. Perhaps he has a few for me. The owl begins turning his head around to face me just as I reach this conclusion.

Fear grips me. His talons dig in as he braces himself for what he's about to see. He's in a totally unnatural situation, meeting eye to eye with a human for the first time. I fling myself back into the abyss of the unknown. I'm looking for Elsewhere again. I don't want to give him any reason to defend himself against me. That won't serve either of us. I want him to see through my intentions instantly. We have no time for translation. He must agree to what I'm asking him without question. The moment of truth is here. I close my eyes.

Time stops.

We are both completely vulnerable to each other now. Sitting in nothingness, I can feel my heart fluttering, but I don't follow those feelings. I surrender. I sit with him silently. Despite the new adrenaline rush that ignites my heart, I hold a huge bouquet of my diametrically opposed emotions in limbo.

With all the courage I have left, I slowly, ever so slowly, opened my eyes. What I see almost makes me burst out laughing. My owl's reply is impeccable. He speaks to me softly in the same language I am using. His eyes are closed too! The thrill is sublime. We are talking the same language!

With this understanding I catch a glimpse of the infinite transcending even species.

The sudden release of all that tension catapults me into a state of heightened awareness. Intensity and detachment strike a balance. I am completely in Elsewhere now! Complexity melts into simplicity; timelessness blankets us. My heart pounds through my chest as if I'm empty, but I've never been more full. I watch that single moment expand until all the moments of my life line up behind it making sense in a new way. I am a shaman crossing the valley of death meeting my totem animal--one pure spirit wearing two masks.

Heaven fades as Timelessness melts back into linear time. My wrist pulses with pain. I'm acutely aware that asking my owl to shift his weight will end our love affair, but it's necessary. The pressure of his razor sharp claws marks my skin. I hold my breath and try to simply reposition him.

He lets me know my compassion might be weightless, but my willpower is not. The slightest force of exerting my will turns him into a wild creature again. He takes his cue, leaps out of my hands, falls into the corner, flaps against the wall, and loses a few feathers.

I scrutinize his body and watch his wings work. He's breathing well. No broken bones, no blood, bright eyes. This owl hit a car while he was flying, not the other way around. He's coming around now.

Scooping him up again in my arms, I walk out into the moonlight. Somewhere between boldness and reckless abandon, I take a final liberty and kiss his wild, symbolic wings. I can feel the electricity in my fingertips. I can feel it in the wind moving my hair. I am much bigger now than I could ever be by myself. A deep sense of gratitude enfolds me for all the perfect synchronicity that has already occurred throughout time to allow this miracle this to happen.

He slips back into the dark.

All summer long I listen to a barred owl in the woods behind my house. Low and sweet, he calls, reminding me how to surrender. I am listening with every nerve, every pore to a language I've always wanted to hear. What he taught me in a few moments, I'll never forget.

Native Americans put feathers in their hair as a sign of their brave deeds. On special occasions, I wear the ones that barred owl gave me. They dangle from from my ear on a tiny chain. They may look like feathers, but they feel like wings in my heart. Those feathers remind me how I can affect the world. In a moment of grace, I saw it for myself on many levels. What gift could be more precious? The one I give or the one I take? Now, I see, they are both are the same.

"A bit of fragrance always clings to the hand that gives roses." ~ Chinese proverb

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