I live for the slow reveal of autumn, the sliding back of the leaves and twining vines (like lips over teeth when a mouth makes a smile), the glide of frost on a forest floor, the suddenness of the aspen, glowing white bones creeping up and out of the underbrush, broken ladders to anywhere but here. I live for that. The alders bare the narrowness of their curving ribs and empty nests appear as far as I can see. The only light comes from above, the inner glow of the tamarack in intermittent sunshine, shriveled rose hips waiting for a mile high ride in the gurgling crop of a bird — the suddenness of color in a landscape that slowly relinquishes all its secrets. The stones on the hillside growing their moss. A boulder I never knew, by the stream I never saw flowing. I run through it all, keep a tidy pace, feel a thousand pink flowers blooming in my face. Autumn come bright and hazy, laced and bundled in fog bank, plundered by the last of the river flow transporting all the paper thin gold to the sea.
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Last night, after work, I managed to squeak in a run with Farley by my side. I don’t go anywhere in the woods here without a dog by my side. There’s power in numbers, my pack, my pride. We ran and we ran until dusk became too thick and my eyes questioned what they were seeing. Then we turned around and ran some more. I tripped on a stone and lightly sprained my ankle. As I stood there, shaking off the discomfort of a tingling ligament in my leg, I saw a hulking, airborne form swooping towards me down the pine lined road. I could have reached up a hand and slid my fingers across its feathered belly as it passed over me, unflinching, unwavering. An owl. So near. So silent. What a fearsome hunter. To move so quickly without a sound, without feather ruffle or wing squeak…I can only imagine what a field mouse feels when it finds itself suddenly and silently caught in a talon and soaring over wheat stubble. It passed over me, the owl, and continued straight down the road, no more than eight feet off the ground, curving with the road and then out of sight. Even now, I’m not sure it really happened. Even now, I’m glad to be small, but not small enough to be carried away.
Owls. Owls go out into the night and bring back nourishment for themselves and others. I want to live that way. I want to always go out into the darkness and find something bright to grow the spirit of myself and others, no matter what. There must be light, soul food, bright truth in every single life lesson, if this isn’t true, there’s no point to hardship and heartbreak.
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It rained in the night and this morning, my narrow valley was milky white with fog, filtered sunlight like butter creme, glittering with pooled water late into the afternoon.
what if every time you post to this here I blog my only comment was simply:
“i love you.”
or
“simply, i love you.”
or
“i simply love you.”
because I was always feel just that when I read your words. And far too humbled to try to attempt to match pace, your writing grace with my own words.
… but never
“i love you simply.”
because that? THAT is not true. The truth is I love you complexly, through and through, delightedly.
Thoroughly.
oh you do you do you do
light light
light so bright
oh this story
well you must have known it would touch my soul….
I have been shadow stalking in SouLodge this week, amazing what one finds when we go deep
it has been an interesting week…
http://loveandlight-cat.blogspot.ca/2012/10/shadow-stalking-one-who-betrayedsoulodge.html
revelations happen in the dark…and we are never alone as we walk there
this I know to be true
as always
your words and images inspire
happy weekend my sister of the night : )
love and light
your words and your images are just stunning.
What a rush! What a beautiful and haunting thing, the Owl. My favorite bird, my animal totem, came swooping in to get a better look at you, the goddess of the forest, the goldilocks of the LCITW. Owls’ spirit is with you. Aren’t you the lucky one. xx
I was there with you, by your words. Hauntingly beautiful.
I had a moment many years ago that has never left me. Walking alone on a winter night, along a back road near my home, and a buck suddenly raced across the road about 20 feet in front of me. I stopped still and watched him bound away across the snow. Then, when I continued on, I stopped again, nostrils flaring as I breathed in his scent trail that I was passing through. It was a wild moment for this suburban girl.
i’m so delighted that you post about the magic in your life and that i am your friend because all of THAT makes it easier for me to see the joy and wonder in my own life.
xx
oh, isn’t that the truth??!!
thank you, jillian, for constantly giving us a new lens through which to see the world.
I often read; I rarely comment; but this post was just too stunning to say nothing. The images, the words… blogging is great, but if you ever published such things in a book, I would buy a whole bunch of copies and give them to everyone I care about. That’s an honest-to-God promise.
hear hear!
Your spirit and your words are beautiful and poetic. Thank you for sharing such a glorious gift.
xo
Amen sister soul.
Also, I think we were nestering at the exact same moment. Did you hear me squeal?
oh my. you capture what i feel when i’m running alone (with my pack) in the forests and mountains and wild places; the magic and power of the wild life all around you and within you: the spirit, the lessons, the boulder you never knew (but now you do!)
thank you.
Kerry
the way you live your life and speak your language is a forever grateful and joyous hymn to life.
“notice that autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.” ~ friedrich nietzsche
Amazing. I bet that was so cool – they are fast and silent. WE were sitting outside 2 summers ago at a bonfire at the neighbors and one swooped in for a mouse that was rustling in the leaves. It was gone before we could even turn our heads to the slight sound. amazing.
gorgeous. i’ve had a few owl encounters but i remember spotting a ghostly owl perched on a guard rail, in the high beams of my truck lights late at night. it swooped off and then circled back just inches over the car (we could see it through the sunroof). crazy…and difficult to stay focused on the road – that guard rail was blocking a huge drop off on the one side!
Thank you all for these lovely comments, and for sharing some of your own haunting animal encounter stories! LOVED them!