"The Girl and the Owl" by Michael Shapcott
Last night, as I was closing my eyes and beginning to settle into savasana, which is the final resting pose in a yoga practice, I heard the faint call of an owl from beyond the studio doors, and a sudden blanket of peace fell over me. I heard very clearly in my mind a voice that firmly said, "Stop the questions." The owl, with his plaintive query, opened my mind to the futility of my constant hunger to know why. Only hours before, I had been sitting in my therapists office, and she said, "You are trying so hard to find reason in things that will never make sense." I question why everything happens, good or bad; my mind circling through endless dizzying spirals, and it gets me nowhere. Questions bring doubt; doubt in myself and my capability to trust others, and I don't want to live my life hiding within narrow shadows anymore. When I stop examining the reasons for myself and others to believe in me, love me, see my worth, I can allow it to simply be. What we already know and hold inside is beyond measure, and yes, there is infinite knowledge to be gained, but the answers will come more easily in the stillness. Sometimes the answers will even come in the whisper of an owl calling at twilight.