the owl in the desert

In the damp, rank cavern of my disease, the ego, I inhale the fresh frigid air and stare out into the night.  The winking faces in the sky serve to remind me how vast the real world is; how vast the illusion of our separateness - a trick of the ego, the disease of Self.

A Great Horned Owl visits me now and then perched way out, it’s rare I see it nearby.  Mostly I hear its massive wings tuck when it settles, its colour blending into the darkness.  Tonight, it seems, I’m alone, but I’ve been communing with it for nights.  It knows more than I possibly could.  The owl’s very life is closer to the infinite than I am at this moment.  It tells me stories of the beginning when there was only Love.  It tells me news of the desert as though this were my home and not some place I’m passing through.  It tells me of the smaller owl it consumed before paying me a visit.  It speaks a language at times, I know little of, although I’m gaining knowledge, learning its meanings.

The owl was plain in communication as it told me of Eros. 

The owl had watched as Eros crossed the threshold from this barren wasteland he shared with me to pass through to water, trees, grass and into the arms of another. 

It’s quite possible that Eros’ unyielding gaze to some distant land was a view directly into her eyes, even if he could not see them from the battlefield.

The owl hadn’t intended to hurt me with the details; how much taller than me she was, how muscular, or that she was a Cancer, the Mother of the Zodiac, ruled by the moon and likely a need to be the perfect homemaker.  The owl didn’t aim to hurt me with how the Mother of the Zodiac had a child and how Eros excitedly shared his time with them.  The owl meant no harm as I crumpled into insignificance, unwanted, into ugliness.  The owl hadn’t said she was pretty but it went without saying…clearly this woman was everything I was not.

My self-worth challenged the tears that hotly scraped my cheeks, my lips.  I found myself engaged in battle, warring with a foe stronger than any other I had faced and beaten…the ego.  The ego had swooped in when the owl left, no doubt looking to peck at the dying morsel that was me.  The ego came near, squawked its supremacy.  Spreading its colourful wings, a distraction I now realize, it pierced a talon into me.  Clinging to my arm, I continued to cry, allowing the salt from my tears to enter the wound until small gasps were all that was left of my voice.  The ego grew repulsed at my display, unused to honest emotion I supposed.  It fled on ground at first, scurrying several feet away, until it grew disgusted at the quiet rocking of my body and the subtle sound of my soul opening itself to the Universe, seeking salvation.

Night turned to day, turned to dusk.  When the stars re-emerged and silence filled me, I ripped the lining from my jacket and bandaged the wound. That was hours ago. 

Here, perched for the time-being, I remain,

Lesley

Hallelujah Heartist