Of Owls and Empaths
Plus an unforgettable memoir *and* a new Christmas book!
An owl glided low across the lane, right in front of me, to a huge old Douglas fir next to the road. With a sweep of its majestic wings, the owl settled on a limb about 12 feet off the ground.
I stopped my bike immediately to take in this gorgeous raptor, with its broad wingspan of variegated tawny brown and cream feathers. Barred owls aren’t uncommon in the Foothills—at dusk, every once in a while I’ll hear its distinctive call from the tall old firs next to our acreage. Yet you rarely get a close-up glimpse like this one.
Especially in the middle of the day.
The owl stared right into my eyes while I stayed perfectly still, returning its gaze. We, the owl and I, kept our eyes locked for another minute or two.
It finally swiveled its head and looked behind it, breaking our eye contact—but then swiveled right back and looked straight at me again. We locked eyes for another long moment. I had the oddest sensation that in connecting with this bird, there was a message for me…
24 hours earlier…
“She’s here,” said my sister.
At my mom’s Thanksgiving gathering, I was chatting with the two sisters I’d grown up with. As is usual at our family get-togethers, the conversation rolled around to my dad, who passed away over 20 years ago.
My sister, E., mentioned Dad’s mother, our beloved grandmother, and how much she loved Grandma’s Spritz cookies. That’s when she said, “She’s here”—that Grandma was right here with us, in my mom’s living room.
I didn’t doubt it for a minute.
E. has been an accomplished horsewoman since her teens, and an empath as long as I remember—so tenderhearted that her eyes would fill with tears at the mention of anyone or any animal hurting.
In the photo, you can probably guess which sister was the sensitive one.
As a longtime horse girl, E. has an almost mystical connection with her animals. Over the years, caring for her three Appaloosa horses—now two—on a small income, she’s used many folk remedies for her animals, instead of always calling the vet at the first sign of trouble.
Her healing abilities—both for her horses and herself—have sometimes bordered on the miraculous. Much of E.’s adult life has been spent in the School of Hard Knocks—and being a horseback rider, many of her experiences have been literal knocks on the head, from riding accidents or being bucked off horses.
She’s always been an extraordinarily sensitive person, and I imagine these knocks have done a fair amount of rewiring to her system. She’ll point to her head and say, “You know, tiki-boom.”
I’m guessing that rewiring might have led to some of these extrasensory abilities.
Back in Mom’s living room, soon after E.’s startling announcement about our grandma, our other grandmother’s name came up. My sister said, “Oh, she’s here too.”
I’m sure you’ve heard of “thin places”—places where the veil between this world and the next, between the earth and heaven, is very tenuous. I wonder if perhaps, my sister carries a thin place around with her.
Or maybe, a thin place has simply attached itself to her.
I didn’t ask my sister if either grandma had a message for us, or why they were here. It was enough to “know” that their spirits are keeping in touch.
So what do my two long-gone grandmothers have to do with owls?
You see, after having this significant moment with the barred owl on our lane, 20 minutes later another one crossed my path!
It was a smaller owl, perched, like the first owl, about 12 feet above the ground, in a fir at the edge of the main road. I stopped my bike again, and met its eyes. Like the first owl, it steadily returned my gaze.
I could have happily spent as much time as the owl would allow, the two of us just staring into each other’s eyes. But a car came along, breaking the spell. So I climbed back on my bike and was on my way.
I’d heard, here and there, that owls are the subject of many myths and legends. But today, after seeing the owls, I discovered a remarkable number of superstitions, omens, and symbolisms associated with owls across cultures and through the ages.
Some good, some very dark and unfortunate. And far too many to recount here.
But there’s a spiritual significance to owls that kept coming up, including:
*Owls are signs of wisdom and intuition;
*Owls are associated with the supernatural, and metaphorically the keepers of “death” in a transformational way—related to new beginnings;
*Owls, as viewed in many native cultures, are the embodied spirits or souls of the dead.
Since I’m basically a glass-half full, Pollyanna kind of person, I’m focusing on the positive interpretations. Yet I don’t want to regard these various owl meanings as a spiritual buffet, where I pick and choose the owl symbolism(s) that appeal most to me.
But something meaningful emerged from the grandmothers and owls. Spending most of the afternoon talking to this sister who had sensed Grandma’s presence, I felt closer to her than I have for many, many years.
She may soon be approaching a major transitional time in her life, and after having the encounters with the owls, I realize she could probably use a lot more of my support.
Could it be those two owls were my grandmothers’ spirits? Giving me the guidance I didn’t know I needed?
Some of you might think I’ve ventured too far into woo-woo territory. But after recently reading a transcendent memoir, I’m prone to see symbols and metaphors all around me…
You Could Make This Place Beautiful, by poet Maggie Smith, was a unique reading experience—gorgeously-written short memoir pieces about the breakup of her marriage and life after divorce.
It’s hard to describe this book. I don’t have a lot of experience with poetry, but many of her chapters seem to be almost prose poems, her pieces about grief and healing rife with metaphor. The ebb and flow of her memories have a rhythm, a poetic quality to them as well.
As grief brings fresh insights to the author, her storyline often—and elegantly—circles back, one experience building upon another. Like some poetry, there’s a pattern to her story. Much like in life.
In last December’s post, I shared a collection of holiday essays. This fall, I expanded and significantly revised the pieces for this holiday season—if you’re a longtime reader you may recognize the book cover—and I’ve published the essays in an inspirational little book!
Little Farm for the Holidays: Celebrating the Christmas Season Homestead-Style is a cozy, inspiring little read to bring more light and cheer to your Christmas!
You can find this little book in ebook, auto-narrated audiobook, and print format; the paperback includes my novelette-length short story, The Christmas Visitor…
In The Christmas Visitor, an unexpected guest takes shelter at a lonely Irish cottage the eve before Christmas Eve… This tender, mystical holiday story has been previously-published, but this is its first time in print!
You’ll find a brief excerpt of Little Farm for the Holidays here.
The book is available at all ebook retailers, and you can order the print edition at your local bookstore too. If you’re a library person (like me) you can get the book for free! Just request the e- or print book at your library.
And if you’re game for more holiday reading…
At my Little Farm blog you’ll find a series of fun posts about Iceland’s Yule Lads, “Countdown to Christmas” from last year; and this month’s short piece about simplifying your holidays.
Do you have any wonderful holiday reads to share? After my owl/grandmother experience, I had a couple more minor mystical experiences this week—and I would love to hear about any of yours.
**This week, we have a crew installing a new roof—and our internet satellite will be going down later today! And we have no cell service out here. So after this post goes out, if you don’t hear from me until next week, it’s because we have no internet!**
As always, thank you so much for spending time at my Little Farm. If you enjoyed this post, I hope you’ll press the handy ❤️ button! Sending all my best to you for the holidays—
Warmly,
~Susan, from the Foothills
PS….Just so you know, I haven’t forgotten about the second installment of “Learning to Cook” that I mentioned in my previous newsletter. I’ll be back with Part 2 next time!
How I love this post.
Encounters in nature are often mystical, I think. It's as if the thread that connects all sentient beings right back through time suddenly becomes that much stronger. Perhaps its why many cultures have believed in spirit animals.
I also am intrigued with 'spritz cookies'. Is there a spice flavour?
And I think your sister sounds like a deeply connected person - not, as you say in woo-woo way but with enviable empathy and intuition.
Cheers, Susan and goodluck with the new publication.
This was a really special read! How remarkable that we had an owl hooting outside our campsite this week! Sending love your way and to “E” too!