Wings of No Restraint (Danny Schmidt)

Maybe some of you recall the original owl visitation story a week or so after Eric's death.  There have been many more since I last posted, such that my words at Eric's Celebration of Life strengthened my desire for a tattoo.

"So far, he's given us signs of rainbows... and an owl appeared to me that I am sure was a visitation.  And, even though I've declared a moratorium on tattoos ("seven is the number", sings Dave Carter), if I hear Eric's voice whispering in my ear that it might be time for more ink, one of you will be getting a call to accompany me."

Last week, he whispered:  "It's time."  

Lovely backstory:  in September 2013, Eric decided to get a tattoo (not his first) of an octopus attempting to pull a ship underwater which, to me, represented his life-long struggles with anxiety (I am still trying to find the finished product, but here is the initial line work).  Look at that gorgeous detail, even in first draft form:

I wanted a tattoo for my 60th birthday (10 years ago), and Eric recommended his guy, Adam Forero... who immortalized our family on my back with a compass tattoo I designed; Sarah came with me, and got a beautiful flowers/dragonfly/butterfly on her lower back/left hip.  We had such a good time, laughing and chatting; Adam told us that one day he would have his own shop, 4 Arrows (sparked by his surname).  Sarah was a bit nervous so she asked Adam to put on Dave Matthews Band (her favorite music group) and, since it was late and we were the only ones there, he obliged (straying from the heavy metal that had been playing earlier - ha!).

Back to present day:  over the last few months, I had narrowed my new tattoo down to three ideas... and of course it only made sense for Adam to do it; I went in search, and he does indeed have his own shop now (six years!):  4 Arrows Art.  

I sent an e-mail before we went out of town last weekend for my niece Julia's wedding; he replied the Monday after, we continued the conversation, I sent him my idea, and we made a Wednesday a.m. appointment.  When I showed up, not only had he sketched it up, but he had found and researched the artist:  Amanda Clark.  So. Many. Owls.  Just one more validation I was in the right place... 💥

Also, Dave Matthews jam band music was on the PA.  Double-bam... 💥💥

And we hugged and we talked and we got down to business.  And he showed me his own owl tattoo; and he brought me water in an owl glass (his sister works at Disney).

Whatever might have been a consultation morphed into a full-fledged session, as I climbed into the chair, sitting comfortably cross-legged with my back supported, closed my eyes and settled into Zen mode while still carrying on a non-stop, in-depth conversation about anything and everything.  What a nice as well as talented young man!  Oh, and did I say gentle touch?  I was in the chair almost three hours, and barely felt a thing... 😌

And when we were finished, I gave Adam a pouch of E's ashes... 💜

Wednesday's experience meant so much to me on so many levels:  to see Adam again, 10 years later... to realize his 4 Arrows dream came true... to have a full-circle moment for/with Eric; I know Adam will take him on many adventures!

I already feel more peaceful, comforted, and protected with E on my left shoulder, next to my heart; I expected to cry, and was pleasantly surprised that I didn't.  The time was right, we made it happen, and I am beyond delighted with my new ink... 💘

[edited to add:  I realized, days later, that Wednesday 6/26/24 (when I got the tattoo), was 9 months to the day of Eric's death... 💞)

SONG:  Wings of No Restraint by Danny Schmidt

BOOK:  The Woman With An Owl Tattoo by Anne Walsh Donnelly, Isabelle Kenyon (Editor), Sally Mullaney (Illustrator)

POEM:  Beneath the Sweater and the Skin by Jeannette Encinias

How many years of beauty do I have left?

she asks me.

How many more do you want?

Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.

When you are 80 years old

and your beauty rises in ways

your cells cannot even imagine now

and your wild bones grow luminous and

ripe, having carried the weight

of a passionate life.

When your hair is aflame

with winter

and you have decades of

learning and leaving and loving

sewn into

the corners of your eyes

and your children come home

to find their own history

in your face.

When you know what it feels like to fail

ferociously

and have gained the

capacity

to rise and rise and rise again.

When you can make your tea

on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon

and still have a song in your heart

Queen owl wings beating

beneath the cotton of your sweater.

Because your beauty began there

beneath the sweater and the skin,

remember?

This is when I will take you

into my arms and coo

YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING

you’ve come so far.

I see you.

Your beauty is breathtaking.

QUOTE:  “Rooted strongly yet bearing wings, Owl Woman signifies the wisdom that awakens through grounded seeking of the unknown. She presides over ritual, over ceremony. Grounded in solid practice, she opens her heart. With humility, she remains aware and is not afraid to look into the heart of darkness, knowing that she may find the lost parts of herself there. And when she does, she welcomes them back through the portal of her heart, digesting the experiences, retaining that which nourishes the soul, rejecting the rest.

Owl Woman aligns with the Moon, she understands what it means to cycle with the ebb and flow of the seasons. In ceremony, she smooths the way. On softened wings, she glides through the night, listening for the wisdom of the heart.” ~ Ona Christie Martin, Art of Awakening

I Heard an Owl (Carrie Newcomer)

Many of you may recall the blog post detailing my owl encounter four days before Eric's Celebration of Life on October 14, 2023.  I believed then, and, even if it never happens again (although I certainly hope it does), I remain convinced it was a visitation from my son.

Going forward, owls have been appearing everywhere (isn't that always the way things happpen?), on my own radar and stories from others; as I shared my tale with long-time besties Michele and Rox, they too offered up their past histories, neither of which I knew about.  My sister-in-law Pat, a wonderful potter (who is creating a new urn for E's cremains; no rush!), made me a beautiful owl pendant, which I have added to my keychain.

I am also more seriously contemplating something I spoke of in my part of the eulogy:

"So far, he's given us signs of rainbows... and an owl appeared to me that I am sure was a visitation.  And, even though I've declared a moratorium on tattoos ("seven is the number", sings Dave Carter), if I hear Eric's voice whispering in my ear that it might be time for more ink, one of you will be getting a call to accompany me."

It might very well be time (no spoilers yet, but I already have three contenders).  

This morning, when I was transferring last year's calendar dates over to the new year's clean slate of schedules/agendas/commitments... July 2023 jumped out at me (see images above and below).  We all know that July 28 is Eric's birthday, right?  Freaked me the f*ck out (and of course I had to share with M and R immediately!).

So, as my carefully-chosen Word of the Year is Be Present/Now... you can bet I'll be on the lookout for more owls to guide my path or, at the very least, keep me company.  I am mindful and comforted and grateful, oh my... 🦉

"When you see owls everywhere or they recur in your dreams repeatedly, pay attention," says Harmon-Luber. Mello agrees that if you continually see owls, they want to get your attention. "Our spirit guides are sending messages, and they'll keep sending you signs," she says.

"Have you ever stared into the owl's eyes?" ~ Robert Penn

Yes. I. Have... 💞

SONG:  I Heard an Owl by Carrie Newcomer

BOOK(S):  In Search of the Owl: A father's death begins a quest for a deeper understanding...of life. by Jean E. Sidinger

Crossing the Owl's Bridge: A Guide for Grieving People Who Still Love by Kim Bateman

POEM:  Owls by Liza Katz Duncan

And maybe this is all we get: a chilly evening,

           5:30 and the sun should still be out. Instead October’s

                      Full Blood Moon has come and gone

over the hospital parking lot. The crickets’ warning song

           has already begun. My body, we’ve learned, has forgotten again

what to carry and what

           to discard, like those owl pellets we dissected in the fourth grade:

                      here the jaw, there the shoulder blade of some smaller creature.

I imagine an ossuary blooming in my gut, a stone well

           of tiny bones, ancestors tunneling through the cartilage,

though of course I know this is impossible: ancestors

           are supposed to stay dead.

A graveyard forgets more than we know. Names obscured

           by time and weather, grass

                      grown over a stone. So, too, a body.

Mine has forgotten so much. Has forgotten

           rhythms: stars, bird calls. But as we pull in the driveway

that night, a Great Horned Owl, then another,

           chanting their duet—first the female,

then the male, slightly deeper. The evening carrying

           their song through our open window.

I will never be an ancestor. In a few days my body

           will miscarry for the fourth and final time. And maybe

                      this is just what we get: you, me,

calling each other in the dark. Love: the one,

           then the other. A book, two opposite pages

kissing. A glass house. Outside, constellations

           in a quickening sky. Owls finding each other in the dark.

Season of Owl by Beth Weaver-Kreider

This is the season of owl,

of winds that howl through the hollow,

the season of the sharp bark

of the fox, voicing longing in the bosque.

This is the season of bitter,

of fierce flakes feathering cheeks and hands,

the season of crystal, crisp and cutting,

of beauty that will slice you open.

This is the season of rising,

thin and pale, into the dawn air,

but also of burrowing, huddling deep

into the layers that hold you.

Walk the thin line of today with care,

one foot precisely placed, the other. . .

Perhaps you will notice,

when you raise your eyes for a moment,

how the line curves out ahead of you,

bringing you

always

back home.

QUOTE(S):  "An owl sound wandered along the road with me.  I didn't hear it - I breathed it into my ears." ~ William Stafford

"You don't need anything but hope. The kind of hope that flies on silent wings under a shining owl moon." ~ Jane Yolen

"If we cannot sing of faith and triumph, we will sing our despair. We will be that kind of bird. There are day owls, and there are night owls, and each is beautiful and even musical while about its business." ~ Henry David Thoreau

"There’s always a hidden owl in “knowledge.” " ~ E.I. Jane