I Feel an Owl

Different cultures hold various attitudes towards owls. In Lebanon, owls are often seen as signs of misfortune, signaling imminent illness or death. When adults know an owl gliding over their gardens or hear its call from a distance, they pray for protection.

At funeral services, it's common to overhear mourners sharing stories about encountering owls, with remarks like, "I saw an owl and immediately sensed something bad looming," or "Hearing that owl scream in my garden made me wonder, 'So, who's funeral is next?" These experiences with owls are deeply woven into the fabric of local lore, illustrating the complex relationship between cultural beliefs and the natural world.

I was lucky to be born into a non-superstitious family. My revolutionary mom constantly questioned and challenged everyone's ideas. On the other hand, my dad believed every creature is a divine creation, putting any soul on the same pedestal as God himself. As for me, I'm inexplicably head over heels for owls. Seeing one is like catching a glimpse of another dimension—it's so overwhelming I could almost cry. It's as if these feathery beings take my breath away.

My first encounter with an owl happened in Calgary during a chapter of my life when my mental state was anything but solid. Floating in my mid-thirties, my kids were my inspiration, so I'd pull myself out of bed each day. The thought of them facing a morning without their mom was the anchor, keeping me tied to life.

I remember walking with my husband, who poured his heart into lifting my spirits. Yet, the weight of my postpartum depression had grown so heavy that I had reached a point of surrender. It was a beautiful late summer afternoon, and we were hiking near our community, a fantastic view just a kilometer away from my house. My gaze was constantly fixed on the ground as we walked a narrow path alongside a ridge.

I felt strangely observed at that moment as if eyes were piercing through me. My nerves were on edge, so I paused and glanced downhill. I saw something striking: two bare tree trunks, stripped of branches and leaves, stood before me, one noticeably taller than the other. Settled atop each trunk was a magnificent white owl and the one closer to me locked its big black eyes with mine, holding my gaze in a silent, intense stare.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, with less than two meters separating us. This majestic, beautiful, calm yet intrusive presence held her gaze steady on me, a comforting force in her eyes. In response, I squatted there, letting minutes pass as we had each other's gaze. I allowed her to peer into the depths of my eyes, her energy seeming to cleanse my soul until overwhelmed, I found myself crying.

I remember my husband walking back towards me, smiling, encouraging me to keep moving forward, reassuring me that everything would be alright.

The owl kept within my sight until we moved so far that she was no longer visible. I've returned to that location many times since, yet I've never spotted her again. However, the unmistakable calls of owls in the neighborhood are a constant reminder. It reassures me that they are always there, unseen but ever-present. Ever since that day, I've sensed a spiritual connection with owls, a bond that cannot find an explanation.

I cherish the thought that I bear the spirit of an owl, a gentle reminder to embody wisdom, patience, and grace. It's as if I have angels watching over me from a distance and angels residing close by, whom I'm also entrusted to nurture and protect. This belief guides me, inspiring a sense of purpose and care in my journey.

Dana Obeid