A Divine Hoot

I laid down on the rock. We went to a park where the river flowed. It was our last day together. We met in person a month ago for the first time and lived together on the Sunshine Coast. 0-100, the only way I knew how. Today I compensate and am unsure how, or perhaps afraid, to go 0-1.

We had beautiful moments. As I lay there on the rock, she went to play with the trees. I opened my records, calling in a sign, a friend from the other side. Temporary embodiment. A flash of flight crosses the river. Wait, was that an owl? I’ve only seen one before. It can’t be; my imagination is playing with me, or perhaps it’s the unseen. After some time, we get up and begin making our way back. Uncertain which way, we choose a path. A flash of flight once again. I climb up the mound, off the track. There they are, close enough to touch: three owls. One for her and one for me, and the other waits while we converse in silence. The underground has paid us a visit.

Hoot. You called and we’ve arrived. I suggest you put your phone away and spend some time in my eyes. Let me enter you. When are you going to get out of that mind of yours? You call us, invite us here, yet are unable to be fully in this moment. I know, you wish you could be and understand the nature that breathes you.

Destruction. I was only taught one way. To believe in the dark, to live in the shadows. Imbalanced. Light was fading. At least I learned to smile. Not from her. It was another. It’s not fake. The smile is genuine; it’s just always traveling with a touch of sadness by its side. I didn’t know what to do. Close eyes, open eyes, take a photo? It was intense. How can my mind not go cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs in this moment? There is an owl staring into my soul. What the fuck is happening? It was a special moment.

I’m not sure what this sign was—if we should still be together, or if it was just a moment. This is the frustrating part of my life; I don’t remember how to use the gifts of divinity that I’ve been given. Why is this so hard? What am I here to do? One second I’m laying on a rock minding my business, the next moment I’m trying to communicate with this other being. I did not speak its language, but it definitely understood me. Reminds me of the white owl on the side of the 407 rails.

Disconnected from the divine. I’m not playing in the playgrounds I came here for, distracted by the agenda of others, susceptible to manipulation. I will never know the meaning of the moment until I depart this ship and return home.