Victory

When I was little, my Nana would tell me stories about the Greek Goddess Athena and her owl. Little me was fascinated at the idea of a woman, a warrior born from the head of Zeus, who would keep company with an owl. Imagine having a creature who could fly into the heavens and come back with all the knowledge you needed for victory. I didn’t really believe that the owl had an inner light, I assumed the Greeks just didn’t know about night vision.

I remember leaning back on the sofa and staring at the shelves of books on my Nana’s wall. The owl figurines, made from ceramic, scattered here and there amongst the books. Wasn’t it funny that my short, feisty grandmother had something in common with Athena? Both seemed fearless to me. Maybe my Nana didn’t battle in great wars, but she would always nod and give you the sign to put her window down in the car, so she could flip off a particularly annoying driver on the highway.

Some of those old owl figurines made it to new apartment, after the divorce. I unpacked them from newspaper and placed them on my own shelves, with my own books. Looking out the window, I could see smoke coming from my neighbor’s chimney. Every day I reminded myself to go outside and walk. No matter if you are sad, or don’t have enough energy. Trees don’t care if you’re sad, they just ARE. The woods are going to be there even if your husband isn’t anymore. Maybe start taking care of yourself?

A few hours later, I stopped procrastinating and put a coat on. Smudged printout of a trail map in my pocket next to my gloves. Blasting the music so loud on the drive there, I could feel the thunk of the bass as I rested my thigh on the door speaker. Speeding around corners with the thrill of a rally driver.

But in the woods? Silence. Let my mind churn, let the woodpeckers and squirrels speak to each other, let me just disappear.

There was a funny contrast of feelings- ears cold from the air and chest hot from breathing hard uphill. I hoped maybe I could purge all of that old stuff from my brain, those feelings of loss and fear. What would my nana say to me now? Probably something like “you know you’re better off, right?” and “why are you letting someone else make you feel this way? Why are you giving your power to someone to make you feel small?” She would have a point. I wish I could talk to her about it. She wasn’t that person reading from the Athena stories anymore. She wasn’t anything anymore.

I did not want to start crying in the woods, wasn’t that a hypothermia risk or something?

As I turned the corner of the trail, I heard a noise that sounded like the screech of a loose automobile fan belt. That couldn’t be right. Looking around and upwards, I caught a glimpse of movement (wings?)

I stood still for a minute, and then slowly moved forward up the trail. There it was again! Like a really angry cat. Realizing I was in the middle of the forest, and there was a definite lack of both cats and autos, I looked upwards again. Way up. On the branch of a pine tree, there was a bird. An owl. Of course.

It wasn’t moving, just watching. “Hey, owl” I said, nodding. I kept walking up the trail. It was getting steeper and I wasn’t handling it well. Why was I doing this to myself? Any of this?

As the thoughts circled my head, I stopped paying attention to where I was walking. After nearly tripping over a root, and snarling “augh!”, I flung myself down on a rock. Out of breath, exhausted and clumsy. Story of my life. Well, the last ten years or so, anyway. When did I lose track of myself? When did I start shoving my own needs deep down into a pit? Why did I think I still had to?

Looking out at the scene around me I saw life just happening. None of the chipmunks were sitting around talking about the blue jays, gossiping and judging. None of the foxes were waiting until the moose gave them approval to go stalk a mouse. They just WERE. Doing their thing, following their passions, even if those passions were shaped like acorns. Maybe I could learn something from this place, after all.

Right after that thought was when the barn owl dove down to the stump opposite me. I was so surprised, that it took me a second to really acknowledge it. It was unfazed. Just sitting, staring.

Taking a deep breath, I said “Hey Nana…”

It screeched. But didn’t move.

“I know. I KNOW. It’s just so hard…I have no idea what I’m doing. I can’t-“

The owl made what sounded very much like a grunt of disgust. Can owls DO that?!

I started laughing, first at the absurdity of this whole situation, but then at the idea that it took a bird to remind me of who I am. I’m from feisty women, women who read about warriors and teach their little girls not to be afraid of anything. I forgot who I was.

I got up, brushed off the pine needles, and walked back towards the parking lot. I saw glimpses of the owl above me, soaring through the empty spaces, circling around the trees. Leading me to victory.