I awoke this morning to the sight of limbs down and a tree snapped in half. No damage to the cabin, but the electricity is out. The Wind had diminished some, but it was still gusting pretty hard.
Then I heard it. Two Owls calling back and forth to each other. Owl is a big bird, but still I was struck by the fact that she would be out in the woods calling to a cousin in such a storm. Where else would she be, I reminded myself?
Then I thought about some of the astounding assumptions I make about my creature cousins. It can be so easy for me to forget that Owl lives outside all the time. No matter how cold or windy or stormy it gets, she is out there. She doesn't get grounded because of lightning, or because the runway gets icy.
Owl gets me thinking about what it is like to live outside. Not survive outside, but really live outside, with the same level of comfort and familiarity I have for living inside. I have thought of this before, when watching Seagulls hover along in gale force winds. They don't struggle of strain, they just seem to float in the Sky, as if it's something they just do.
Because it is. Like the Chickadees in February, my creature cousins don't retreat when the weather gets harsh, they just live their lives.
Owl reminds me of the many possibilities for living, and that the way I am living right now is just one of them. Today, I will be paying attention to the invitations of comfort and security that limit my ability to see alternative possibilities that exist right in for of me.