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Navigating in the Dark

Sensing our shadow

By Shelley LynnPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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I was putting my five year old son to bed when I first heard the screaming. It seemed to surround the entire house. It was coming from the backyard, then the front. It was definitely outside of the living room, now it was right outside my son's bedroom window. It was not human, which was a comfort. No animal large enough to be a threat would venture into our neighborhood. My son was asleep now, the screaming was still everywhere.

I went out the sliding glass door leading to the porch on our second story. Two shadows were flying, flitting about in the dusky sky. They were silhouettes, too large to be bats. Night birds, navigating in the dark.

Sitting in bed and listening on my phone I tried to decipher what the calls of varying owl species sound like. I found out it was a barn owl. It was two actually, a mating pair. They were trying to find a suitable place to settle. Much like me, in a state of transition, trying to settle myself.

I had lived alone with my children in the house for 7 months. It was a mostly amiable divorce. I thought of my first night completely alone on New Years Eve and how I had dreamt of a different flying creature. A moth. I dreamt that moths suspended in bubbles came uncomfortably up through my throat and out of my mouth, floating into the air in front of me. I woke up out of my sleep to find that I had a hugely swollen lymph node on my neck which lasted for days. The doctor was unconcerned. I looked that dream up too, like the calls of the night birds. It meant I was getting rid of pervasive annoyance and baggage. I chuckled, I had made the right choice.

The mating pair of barn owls nested in a giant redwood tree in my next door neighbor's backyard. I heard them every night and watched them flying. Never seeing any white, only black shadows on dark gray, or purple, or black shadows temporarily blocking out stars in the distance. It was exhilarating. Their screams were jarring and kept me wakeful at times. I didn't mind.

Maybe they weren't like me actually. They were trying to settle in together, I felt like I wanted to get away, alone. I started to plan a trip. I would drive from Northern California to Idaho. I wouldn't plan, I would camp in my van. I wouldn't bring my children and I wouldn't have to plan. Doing whatever I wanted was a luxury I did not have and craved a reminiscence of what it felt like. To breathe into impulsivity.

Sometimes our hopes and fears are intermingled. When we get to be alone, with just ourselves, our shadows are no longer blocked out by the glare of our chosen distractions and obligatory responsibilities. What would my shadow look like at this time?

Seeking clarity, I researched what finding barn owls in your midst could symbolize. Fear of the unknown, and finding the courage to navigate this fear. Confront feelings of groping around in the dark and gain the sight of the barn owl, sensing in complete darkness. Locate your strengths and resources. Leap into the unknown and trust it, and more importantly, trust yourself.

I took the trip. When I was getting ready to leave I felt grateful for the barn owls and their presence. I felt they were there to give me the courage to be with myself, by myself, for myself. During my travels I saw my shadow and trusted my intuition to guide me. It was glorious. When I returned the owls were gone. I missed them, but was now surrounded by the comfort of my own confidence and internal clarity. I didn't need to be surrounded by their screams anymore to wake me up. I had integrated my own shadow in order to see my own light.

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