Owls can turn their heads 270 degrees. They have facial discs that funnel sound into their asymetrical ears, so that they can pinpoint prey in 3D. They can swim, but they get wet: they have sacrificed the protection of oil on their feathers for the blessing of silent flight.
I can swim. I can't rotate my head 270 degrees but I can wiggle my ears and they do look sort of asymmetrical when I do it.
And I am learning when to to get wet and when to enjoy the ride.
I had a difficult conversation today, in which I was informed that I have a cold anger. I have heard this before. I was taught this, actually, at my mother's knee- hers is a frozen rage. This is what happens when anger is forbidden, as it was to so many women for so long...
But this cold anger also comes from multiple trainings where I learned about what happens to the brain's ability to make any kind of decent decision when flooded with fear, anger, shame. Basically, I learned that the only good decision to make at that point is not to make decisions. That the only win is to be able to recognize the point at which reason leaves the building, and stop doing shit that you can't undo.
And then I get this block of ice in my chest.
I want better choices, choices that move and free me instead of locking me up. And I am willing to get wet. And for this year, I am willing to learn from my ally Owl.
So I googled: "Owls Ice."
And got hockey and an ice cream parlor in Porter Ranch, CA that has flavors like "tiramisu with brownies" and "wasabi."
But I'm not rage eating! I'm rage freezing. And I want to stop. I want the feeling of breaking that ice dam around my heart, and the violent rush of the freed emotions... doing shit.. that I can't undo...
Arg! No!! I know what unprocessed unrestrained rage does. I don't want that either!
What's a woman to do with anger?!?
Sigh. Well... Make art, I think. So I write some.
Make it my ally, I think. So I google again. This time "Owls Breaking Ice."
And I find this video of a snowy owl, which is the species that is living in my dreams now, riding the ice as it's breaking up, turning her head and looking like she is enjoying herself, in an owly sort of way. She is riding the ice, as I want to ride the rage. Ride it, feel it, and not be tossed by it or silenced but be in it and in my body and connected to the elements and looking around with my 270 vision at what I know to be truth and not truth, even the ones that are hard.
And you know what? Today, I did that. At least part of the time.
And that was before I searched "Owls Breaking Ice"
What would it be like to approach anger like this more: enjoy the ride, instead of fear the damage I might do? What would it be like to have joy and anger and ride the ice as moves and sets the waters free?