Wolf Journey

When Owen was 13, his bedroom was full of photos of wolves.  Lea and he had spent a lot of time together that winter, talking late into the night about animal medicine and the spirit world.  The wolf photos remained among his favorites until we left San Diego and moved to Washington.  After he died, I found a folder of the wolf photos among his belongings.

I took a journey with a white wolf tonight.  She and I have been spending time together for the past 10 days, and I feel her with me now.  Since I was a young woman, I’ve been howling at the moon whether it was visible or not.  It’s always there, and I’m always willing to bay for the sheer joy of sound.  

Owen howled when he felt comfortable enough to let go of the confines of mainstream life – and when he was in pain.  If that doesn’t sound familiar to you, maybe you haven’t spent time in the woods, or in a backyard during a full moon – when time and space are of little consequence, and sound is everything.  If you haven’t done this, find a time and place where you can howl like a wolf.  Try it on.  It’s an amazingly comfortable experience.  

Wolf is a teacher, and wolf’s time spent alone is time spent contemplating what’s next.  My wolf is showing me what’s next.  My picture isn’t yet in focus, so I’m howling away my nights and peaking through branches during daylight.  I laugh and cry as I hear my voice call out.  I’m neither happy nor sad.  I just am, and I’m certain the lessons I learn will be lessons I teach.

Song for the night:  Night of the Wolf (no idea who did the music)


~ by Linda on November 21, 2008.

4 Responses to “Wolf Journey”

  1. Linda,

    I get the wolf connection, I really do.

    Near to my childhood home there is a wondrous place – a long ridged back hill rising sharply from the great plain of Glastonbury. From it’s highest point you can see beyond Somerset, into Dorset, Devon and Avon. Here (or there) at this point stands a white windmill, converted oddly into a single turret house. Below on a winter’s morning lie flat acres of wild fields and calm square edged pastureland – frequently broken by small dark forests of conifer; each copse standing on hummocky hillocks and when the mist lies level and truly mysterious of the vast lowlands , the trees stand like islands surrounded by a sea-like blanket of smoke. To the other far side stands Glastonbury Tor. Sometimes I stop close by there, pull my car off the road and like some Dark Age Warrior – I quite literally ROAR at the world.

  2. Women Who Run With Wolves by Clarissa P. Estes

    “When women’s lives are in stasis, ennui, it is always time for the wildish woman to emerge; it is time for the creating function of the psyche to flood the delta…It means to establish territory, to find one’s pack, to be in one’s body with certainty and pride regardless of the body’s gifts and limitations, to speak and act in one’s behalf, to be aware, alert, to draw on the innate feminine powers of intuition and sensing, to come into one’s cycles, to find what one belongs to, to rise with dignity, to retain as much consciousness as we can.”

  3. When our beloved dog finally had to be euthanized, our friends donated to the Defenders of Wildlife fund to sponsor a wolf in our dog’s name. It was the nicest gesture, and since then we’ve enjoyed learning more about these beautiful creatures. Yes, I understand what you are describing.

  4. For 12 years we had Saber..he was part red wolf. What a beautiful amazing creature he was..he taught us much!

    I have been busy with life things, but I caught up on your beautiful posts tonight. I feel a peace from having read them..thank you.

    So many connections..moon, wolves, lost children….

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