Have you ever
Stared into the owl’s eyes? They blink slow, then burn:
Burn gold in the dark inner core of the snow-shrouded cedar.”Robert Penn Warren
I had kind of a crap day yesterday.
Unexpectedly, late in the day, I received bad news. The kind you can’t shrug off or ignore. The kind that keeps you up at night.
I was alone in my treehouse, because Ben and the dogs were away, and I lay awake for hours, tossing and turning and trying to turn my mind off, to no avail.
Finally, I fell asleep, only to be woken up a short time later by a loud scream.
I sat up in fright, my heart thumping in my chest. The noise came again, and I realised it was a screech, not a scream. The screeching came closer, and the haunting sound filled my room.
Gooseflesh covered my body.
I knew that sound…
Something landed on the long sloped roof outside my bedroom window. It was a large owl. It sat on the roof, a few meters away from me, facing toward the forest. Then, ever so slowly, it angled its head around and stared straight at me. A Barn Owl.
It looked at me for the longest time, and then it turned away and screeched again. An answering call floated back, and off it flew into the night.
The last time I saw Owls like this was when I was in the Kimberley. Yesterday afternoon, three Black Cockatoos flew overhead, and I was reminded of my Aboriginal Aunties. So, I felt that this Owl was a message of reassurance for me. And a hurry-up too. Girlie, finish dat book. Tell dat story.
It doesn’t matter that I had bad news, a crap day, another hiccup. All that matters is that I find myself here, in my treehouse, supported by forest, with space and time to finally get that book written.
I’m ready. No more excuses.
That re-write I need to do? I started this morning. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.