Sacred Chords: The Minor Fall and the Major Lift

“Your faith was strong but you needed proof / You saw her bathing on the roof / Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you …”

I spent my weekend packing up my house. Well, not my house anymore – rather the home I built for my soon to be ex husband and myself. It was painful. It goes painfully slow. Sometimes I resist the urge to lay on the floor and sob – and sometimes I come back and lay in the bottom of the shower sobbing. That’s when I pray. I find faith that I never knew I had. Now, faith is all I have. Faith that this will transform. Faith in the experiences I have had have a greater purpose. That this painful transformation will bloom into something new; in beginnings not endings. As we round another turning point I wait to see what spring will bring.

“Well baby I’ve been here before / I’ve seen this room and walked this floor / I used to live alone before I knew ya / I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch / Love is not a victory march … “

Things fell apart months ago. You can’t force a thing that isn’t meant to be – but I still tried. Leaving. Coming back. Breaking down. Leaving: rinse and repeat cycle until there’s nothing left. Until it’s broken. The first time I left I found my faith where I left it. My entire relationship with him, I had proclaimed to have faith and something separated me from it. I no longer felt connected as I once had. My gods did not talk anymore – and I could not listen. I could not be authentic for whatever reason. I had traded authenticity for what I hoped would be family, a home, and a life that might be more simple. It wasn’t and I admit that I was naïve to think it was possible simply because I wanted so desperately for everything to be true.

“And remember when I moved in you? / And the holy dove was moving too / And every breath we drew was Hallelujah …”

When it got to the point when I couldn’t take it – when I felt alone, broken, and abandoned I did something I couldn’t even remember ever doing before. I prayed for guidance. I called on gods I had never called on before because something felt right. I asked for guidance, a sign, anything and the I found it: owls. Everywhere I turned. Dipping in front of my windshield driving on the highway. Sitting outside my window. Crossing in front of me to close to my head for comfort as I cross the street. Hooting in the distance. Eerily gazing intently in my direction.

“Well maybe there’s a God above / But all I’ve ever learned from love / Was how to shoot somebody who’d out drew ya …”

At first I admired their beauty, I’ve always loved owls; then promptly forgot my encounters. It was autumn and owls are a symbol of the season. They were very on trend – my owls are trendy. Then the encounters became more insistent – like the time one almost grazed my head as I walked down the street as she swooped down on a mouse. That startled me. I had never remembered encountering this many owls before. So, I was curious. I went back to my notebooks from years ago. I read my meditation notes: no owls.

“And it’s not a cry that you hear at night / It’s not somebody who’s seen in the light / It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah …”

For me, in my personal language of symbols owls have darker associations. Owls are sacred to Hecate and Athena. Owls bring wisdom, but wisdom is earned by trials. Owls represent death in some cultures, and death brings its own lessons. The end of a marriage is a kind of death. The end of any partnership is kind of death, you will grieve the loss of first your partner. Finally, you will grieve the loss of the parts of yourself that you must give up to move on. So, I spent the last few days grieving the loss of my home, of my handwork, of my future family I had imagined. I know that my owls are guiding me and at the end of all of this there will be wisdom. I have learned my lessons on illusion and boundaries. I am still working through the grief but sometimes I am simply amazed at my faith. I am happy to just listen and learn to work with Hecate and the gods.

“Hallelujah …”

lyrics from “Hallelujah” preferred version: Jeff Buckley
Jeff Buckley: “Hallelujah”

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About Pixie

I'm just your average 20-something trying to figure it out. I am also a theologian, yogi, witch, pagan, dirty hippie, activist (progressive politics), feminist, knitter, environmentalist, and friend. I've also been accused of being a hipster - I am not sure about that. I am sometimes happy to be Gen Y (go Harry Potter) and most of the time confused (seriously guys... ) by everyone else. My hobbies including knitting (and maybe crochet), quilting, recycling, cooking, writing, reading, and biking. I'm finishing up a masters in public policy and when I worked worked in political nonprofits as an activist.
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3 Responses to Sacred Chords: The Minor Fall and the Major Lift

  1. Derek says:

    Thank you for writing something so personal, that inspires me. I truly love that song as well. With death comes life, I wish you the best

  2. You are an old soul. Your words and sheer honesty about such pain in your life are raw and I appreciate you for sharing them. Just when we think we are all alone, we open our eyes to nature and receive a message. I’m so glad the Owl has come to you and taught you the lessons you need to learn from these experiences.

  3. Pingback: Seeing In the Dark: Owl Magic | Pixiecraft: Adventures of Magick and Devotion

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