Coming back to the mountain from town for the first time to stay more than a short overnight, I arrived on Friday with two days ahead, planning to jump into figuring out how to further the project of getting ready to move. Am hoping the right buyer for this mountain sanctuary is just around the corner. So what happened on Friday night to switch up my well-intentioned plan? I developed a fever, a massive cold took over, throat burning, eyes swollen, nose running, cough.

So Saturday rather than being devoted to going through drawers and closets became a day of rest. Arrest. Unable to move, I sat for hours and hours on my porch. Spirit of owl entered into me, I began to realize. I was an owl, sitting quietly on my perch, hearing every move of wind, insect, bird, forest dweller. My mind was taken with just listening,  head moving back and forth similar to an owl’s, staring here then there. Almost too sick to even fret, I settled into owlness. Surrender.

Not too long ago a dream arrived that alarmed me tremendously. In it I was attacked by an enormous owl who had come looking specifically for me. The owl landed on me and ripped the skin on my arms open. I knew in the dream that this was happening in fulfillment of a prophecy. Working that dream in my dream group was one of the most emotional events I have experienced, and it left me with more questions than answers. The dream continues to work me, and I suppose it will keep at it.

Instead of sorting through the many things in my house, owl nature apparently wanted me to sit quietly. Had I not gotten ill I wouldn’t have done it, owl knows that apparently. Today, Sunday, I am a little better, but arrested by feeling tackled again, and ripped into. A part of me thinks I should use my returning energy and what little time I have here to get busy with the many, countless things. Another part says no, don’t you get it Tayria? Listen. Be still. See what can only be seen in stillness, like the owl.

I watched the Pink Goddess arrive last night as she painted the clouds with her color at sunset over the mountains. (I wrote in a recent blog about having been introduced to this goddess by Hannah, my 5-year-old neighbor.) The slowly changing scene can only be truly appreciated in silent, still witnessing. I waited until she “turned out her lights” as Hannah said she does each night, and watched the darkness arrive, then the stars come out.

Not being busy with closets and drawers nor distracted by TV and the news, owl nature was in full play. I want to know what owl wants from me, why these attacks. Will wait and listen.