Heard an owl the other night, as I was reading (okay, checking Facebook...) before I went to sleep. I called to Rebecca, "Owl." She replied, "I heard it."
I wonder why the call of an owl matters to me? It hits deep, touches something I can't identify. It's more than nature. It's history. It's prehistoric. It's a statement. I'm still here, he seems to say. It's not loud. In fact, if you're not listening...really listening...you won't hear him. And maybe that's the point. It's there for you, if you pay attention. And that is true about so many things in our lives, isn't it?
This is an important thing for me to remember right now, as I search/listen/wait for what is next in my life. Because something is definitely coming. I feel it. I'm open to it. And I can wait. It's a feeling of quiet anticipation. The same feeling that the call of the owl stirs up in me.
Speaking of owls, have you seen this? Amazing. And like the changes coming for me, slowly coming into view. Sweet.