Wolf Like Me

A few words on spirit guides...

I can most certainly remember talking about spirit animals when I was young. I guess I’m not really old, depending on who you ask (don’t ask my kids) but, I’m talking about back when I was a kid. I would have answered “Mine is a cat!” only because I had one as a pet—a domestic, ornery tortoiseshell. She was like a crabby, old woman who lived in the closet, emerging to fill her belly and hiss at a couple of people before retreating back to her cave. Maybe she was my geriatric spirit animal and we just happened to meet early. I guess time will tell.

This sort of quest to find my spirit animal has been sitting on my shoulder for a while now. In case you’re wondering, the left one.  I live in a pocket of a major city where a good amount of wildlife flourishes. My yard is a hotel for deer and I’ll often wake up to them enjoying my garden buffet or I’ll find them resting in the grass out front during the evening. I’ve heard footsteps above me at night, too heavy for a squirrel or a bird. I don’t have a chimney and I’m not on Cherry Tree Lane, nor do I own a carpet bag full of furniture. My cat will go ballistic and run through the house, asking “Wtf?” with dinner-plate pupils. I had no answers to offer until I was heading up my driveway and caught the midnight party in the beam of my headlights, much like a police car. I met eyes with three raccoons and was entertained as they bumbled around with little coordination, looking for a way to flee the scene.

My hunch is that they wander up from the park that is seated a mile from my home. I’m a frequent flyer there and have had the pleasure of meeting several of the residents. In the past year alone, I’ve observed orcas and a humpback swimming below from atop trails along forested cliffs, a chattering pair of resident eagles, a boisterous raven, about a thousand deer, several seals, sea lions tossing bloody salmon around the water, jellyfish, tadpoles and their grownup versions who make beautiful music, otters, lizards, snakes, coyotes, a billion or so birds, mice (I could do without), bats, and the elusive owl.

This lovely barred owl has shown up a few times in recent months. The first time we met I was jogging on a trail, enjoying a gentle descent that rounds a bend where the trees recede a bit. I’d just popped beats in my ears and was riding the euphoric crest of the run. The mood was short-lived and killed by a blow to the back of the head. Totally stunned, II whirled around expecting to see a kid who’d lost his football. Instead, I caught the culprit floating over me like a kite, talons dangling like landing gear on a plane. The asshole kite landed in a tree just a few feet ahead and we locked eyes, I’m pretty he was undressing me with those black marbles…or picturing me in a parka. Either way, I was afraid to carry on and we hung out for quite some time. The second time I was on a jog; same trail, different section. If someone happens to be standing still, gazing upward and smiling, I always assume they’ve seen Jesus or they’re watching some animal, and I will follow their gaze. There it was…situated on the lowest hanging branch of a conifer. Without warning, it dove after an unsuspecting squirrel and played a little game of cat and mouse. The owl didn’t seem to be bothered by its audience, and we all enjoyed the show. The third time I met this bird was during a pretty recent trip between the pines. I was on a, ahem…trail run. I’m realizing how redundant my life sounds here. I was finishing up the last downhill where I habitually let it all go. This long, sloped stretch of dirt pulls me down like a magnet, and I consciously exhale the conversation that has gone on between me and the trees. Anyway, the movement must have caught my eye and I turned just in time to see the lovely owl drifting low, only about 20 or so feet above my head. Of course, these sightings could all be a lucky coincidence, but I personally believe they are not.  

Now, I’d previously been under the impression that a spirit animal was assigned at birth, but according to some research, my understanding is that we choose them or identify with them based on characteristics they possess, both strengths and weaknesses. I sort of concluded that I was often guided by deer. They have been a long-standing presence in my life and I have always had a soft spot for them. They are curious and can’t always see what’s right in front of them; things appear blurry…familiar. They are delicate and nurturing, and often seem to walk their way into danger. There is one in particular that I like. It has a very obviously wounded rear leg that sort of dangles and bears no weight. She apparently gets around alright and has raised her young. I don’t see her quite as often as I’ve wondered if she’d succumbed to her injury many times. God, I’ve wanted to run out with a tranquilizer, ace wrap, and Ibuprofen to repair that damn leg, which clearly demonstrates my lack of Veterinary knowledge. I was out at the park with my daughter a few months back and we came across a newborn fawn. I instantly assumed the worst and just as both of us were about to flood the trail, a dude with a little dog beside him said “It’s alive!”. Whew. He proceeded to tell us how his dog had found the fawn and how they’d been “playing” together. In as nice of tone as I could muster, I kindly educated him on the fact that dogs and deer, especially the babies who are clearly still learning how to walk, are not meant for playdates. My daughter and I stood by and waited for a wildlife rescue to show up. Before he arrived, the mother came back and was reunited with her babe. So yeah, we flooded the dirt, but with happy, flowery, girly tears. Instead of applying to Vet school, I recognized the parallel of this instinct in many scenes of life and it has been a tough and reprising lesson to learn. Nature is intended to be wild and some things are better left to run their course without interference from a Fisher-Price doctor.

I was driving home from a camping trip last week. The kids had all fallen asleep so I continued listening to this book on the soul’s purpose. I was excited to reach a chapter on spirit guides. There was a story in which a woman described her dream where her spirit animal, an owl came to visit her. I envisioned this barred owl that has visited me in recent times. Cruising along a curvy country road, I was almost lulled by the narrator until the owl in the story was surreptitiously attacked and killed by an eagle. I burst into tears and wept under my sunglasses, while the babies slept in their seatbelts. Yeah, the death of the owl was heartbreaking, but the explanation of the dream really hit home. Per the story, that owl had to die. It was time for the eagle to take over the role of guiding this woman. She needed the power and dominance of the eagle and the owl was no longer serving her evolution in the direction she was meant to travel. I thought of this wounded deer and how I have loved and connected with them. I considered my own curious and somewhat timid nature and it became clear to me that I was likely in need of a new guide.

I don’t think the goal or the message is to retire the curiosity, but rather to recognize and trust the wisdom I’ve collected. It’s easy to get trapped in a loop of research, while the answers are curled up quietly in our lap. It sure would be nice to have clear-cut explanations regarding our problems, it’s never quite that simple. Basically, reading a bunch of band-aid quotes won’t replace our willingness to allow our wounds space and time to granulate. I don’t necessarily believe that the owl is going to replace that deer, but I do think she was carrying messages. All of this would be so much easier if she had some handwritten scripts rolled up in her beak. Can I get a Hedwig, please?

I’m contemplating a new spirit guide. I’ve been sighting some otters as of late. I don’t think an otter is capable of killing a deer or an owl. A gentle transition would be cool. I admire the playful nature of otters. They still have a desire to nurture and provide comfort, but they travel with the current and seem to remember that there is an element of fun to be found, even in serious situations. The job’s a game, right? Nope, not necessarily, but there is usually some jewel in the shittiest of situations, and for the times where the jewel is buried under the shit, there is chocolate and peanut butter…usually in my glove compartment. Maybe I’ll embrace the otter, or perhaps I’ll call on another as a guide during this next season. We shall see. Stay tuned…

As always, thank you for taking the time to read this. I would be curious (damn deer) to hear more thoughts on this whole concept, so please reach out if you’d like to discuss it. Have a swell week!