Sacred Storytelling: Wise Owl & Mosaic

I felt the beat of the shamanic drums throughout my entire body. It was more than just sound and rhythm, and I was beyond just listening. I was experiencing. I was being. I was transported.

As the rhythm of the shamanic drums faded into background noise, a new quiet rose up around me. Within me. I opened my eyes to find myself in an ancient forest.

I was waiting for someone – one of my guides or guardians.

From the corner of my eye, movement drew my attention. I turned and watched as a white-gray wolf slowly emerged from the trees. He was bigger than I imagined a wolf would be. Far larger than a dog. Stockier. There was a dense presence about him, but it was not animal.

It was wise. Knowing. Omniscient.

The wolf nodded to me before turning and slowly walking back between the trees, and I knew I was meant to follow him. The sounds of the ancient forest rose up around us as we threaded deeper into the trees. The chatter of birds, the crackling of twigs, the crunch of dry leaves and earth’s debris beneath our feet.

Suddenly the trees began to thin out as the wolf led me into a clearing. An indigenous elder sat by a crackling fire. His face was worn with age and wisdom, but there was an air of good humor around him.

My steps were tentative as we drew near, so unlike the confident gait of the wolf who walked right up to the elder and then past to settle across the fire from him. He sat straight and regal. Watching.

My gaze drifted from the watchful wolf to the old man and I asked if I could join him.

He motioned for me to sit on the log to his right, and I obeyed. My eyes flickered over to the wolf again, and I asked the elder if I could pet him and if the wolf had a name.

“Ask him if today he has a name,” the elder said. “Some days he has one, some days he has many, and some days he has none.”

The wolf moved closer and sat tall in front of me. Patiently waiting.

I reached out and gently stroked his fur, my fingers easily gliding through the silky fluff of his coat. I asked the wolf if he had a name.

The wolf’s gaze remained steady, his mouth closed as his response rang loud in my mind, “Today you can call me ‘Mosaic,’ for I am part of you and you are part of me. Just like he,” the wolf looked over at the old man. “Is part of you and you him. And we are all parts of the great spirit in the sky, and it is part of each of us.”

I turned to the elder and asked if he had a name.

“They call me ‘Wise Owl,'” he replied. “…because I am a hoot!” He started to laugh at his own joke, his entire frame shaking with his joy as he slapped his thigh and turned to me with a grin. “I knew you especially would appreciate that.”

I asked Wise Owl if he was one of my spirit guides that I channeled daily, and he confirmed that he was. And then, as I do with most of my guides, I sought his wisdom once more.

“What am I supposed to do in this life?” I asked.

“You have already done it,” Wise Owl returned. “You still do it right now, and you will continue to do it as you move forward on your path.”

“How can I have better balance in my life and make more time for the things that bring me joy?”

“Remember Mosaic,” he said. “Work or spirit or writing are only parts of who you are, no one thing is ALL that you are. Just like we are all parts of each other and the great spirit in the sky. It is all these parts that make us beautiful. If you were to be just your work or just your writing, you would lose what makes your life a work of art. You must recognize the small parts of you and shift between them when it is time to focus on another piece of your mosaic.”

As Wise Owl’s words drifted into silence, I could feel their truth radiating throughout me. I was not this one thing or that one thing. I was many things and all the things. 

I began to picture the beautiful mosaic of my life within my mind, all the small bits and pieces that made of the colorful tapestry of who I was, my personal life experience…my very own work of art, the beauty of which stole my breath away as the sound of the shamanic drums grew louder, rising up around me once more.

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