Tuesday, May 18, 2010

A Wing and a Prayer

Well, My Darlings, I’ve been a bit MIA lately and I apologize for that. So much has been going on. And it’s been an emotional roller coaster. But on balance a good one.

First (the challenging part): Two close friends were hospitalized with scary maladies and accordingly lots of psychic energy and time went to them (they are well). Second: (the fascinating but tiring part): the forensic medium-ship aspect of my life has been extremely busy with a lot of medical record reviews and reports.

Then (the raucous and loving part): the ICDI convention was in town. I got to take class with incredibly gifted people and see and play with friends I only get to visit in person a few times a year. And it isn't everyday you get to see Louise Hay come onstage wearing a flowing golden cowl and announce she was just awarded a doctoral degree at age 83. And (the joyful part): I’ve been working on the book; in general staying in a very positive flow of joy and happy-ness.

The final thing taking my attention (the obsessive part): Molly’s owlets ( ref: March 15) are now fledging. Nightly thousands of us orb in via the internet and watch as the teenagers take their tentative first steps outside the owl box, sit on the fledging shelf and contemplate the mechanics of flight and rodenticide.

Watching these beautiful young birds puts me in thought about the emotion and fear associated with life path actions. Nightly the owlets poke their bobbing heads out of the door, regard the sky, stare at the trees, poke a foot out, step out, and step back in. They will sit on the perch for thirty minutes at a time and flap their wings, never letting go of the perch with their feet. The younger ones remain in the box and stare out at their older siblings in wonder and encouragement. OMG! They seem to say. Whatcha doing? OMG! Look at you!

They are testing their wings and building strength. They are feeling the air in their feathers and smelling the night sky. They are learning the sounds of squeaks that signal a meal is near, and as well the sounds of the soft pant and tread of coyotes, signaling a time of danger.

The chat room streams with human emotion wishing them safety and strength. When will they take flight? When will they complete their first hunt? Anxiety and anticipation! Such human qualities. We are a frail, fearful species. And we have such anxiety about the future!

The owls know. They will know when to let go of the perch. They aren’t fearful. They are discerning. They understand the time of testing, the time of contemplation. They do sufficient of that to gain understanding and strength and then they act. They leap into the night sky with the faith that this is life, and it is time to let go and take themselves into an unknown; an unknown that holds the future. No anxiety. Just confidence, exploration, and action.

We humans can take such lessons from the owls. We tend to hold on to the perch past the point of learning. We hold on when we should be taking flight. I suppose we do it out of fear. How silly. How wasteful.

It’s time for flight. Let go.

[photo by Carlos Royal]

1 comment:

  1. Oh, yes, Deb. That deeply rooted unconscious fear must be exorcised as we take up the staff of Courage to walk forward in the work. The writing's coming for me, now, as well.