Written by Cheryl Rose | Wolf Willow Institute
Lead presenter for Eldering in Times of Transformation at Hollyhock
I’d never seen an owl before. I’d heard them a few times in twilight lit forests. But I’d never had the chance to really see one. Until that morning, in broad daylight, in the ancient wilderness on which Hollyhock has been built on the unceded traditional land of the Klahoose, Tla’amin, and Homalco Indigenous peoples.
Our group was walking, reflectively, along a path that begins behind a circular building called Kiakum. Only moments into our hike, I felt the air rush through my hair, so close to my right ear, and I heard the soft “whoosh” of wings just a split second before I saw Her. Grace and power, landing lightly on a log in the middle of the still pond; a magnificent Barred Owl. She perched and craned Her neck to look around at us all; slowly blinking her soulful eyes, taking in the scene, intensely looking at each of us – as if to say “Aah, I see you’ve arrived….”.
The owl’s sudden appearance was a surprise and yet couldn’t have been more perfect. My co-hosts and I were leading a group of older adults, gathered at Hollyhock for a program where we invited explorations about Eldering in Times of Transformation. This was the beginning of our third full day together; we began outside, at the foot of one of the sky-high trees and I posed a relevant question; “What does it mean to be wise?”
I asked everyone to simply sit with that question and notice what was happening inside themselves. Notice what comes to mind – feel any physical reactions in the body – sense into any emotions felt when considering your understanding of the concept of ‘wisdom’. We settled into that self-reflective silence and then I asked them to deepen the experience by consciously opening all their senses. Right in this moment, what can you see? What can you hear? Smell? Taste? Touch? More open now to all that surrounded us, we began to walk together into that wild, ancient rainforest.
Once we were among the trees, we stood still for a few moments for a next level of preparation. Imagine, I said, that we are not just going for a walk in nature; we are going to reconnect and visit with family, with our kin. Let the false sense of separation between human and nature dissolve, I encouraged, and be reminded that we are a species, we are nature. Let’s ask, humbly, for a connection with the wisdom of this land.
Listening to only the soft beat of Zhiish’s drum, we walked for a few minutes along the trail, wandering and wondering, until we found ourselves forming a circle around a quiet pond. And then, suddenly, there She was. The owl seemed to come from nowhere – or had we collectively called her? We stared at each other and Her in total awe. The owl balanced on a log and slowly looked around at all of us, pausing from time to time to dip Her head to the pond’s surface for a sip of water; seemingly calm and trusting. At one point, She fluttered up into the overhanging branches of a tree, as if to satisfy Her curiousity, to get a better, fuller picture of us. But she returned quickly to her perch in the pond, where her beauty was perfectly reflected in the water and where she could sip at her leisure, as if enjoying some exquisite morning tea. At one point she decided to indulge in a bath, using her wings to playfully splash water up into the air and over herself. Time stretched – and I can’t be sure exactly how long She stayed with us. It felt timeless.
And then, responding to something only She could hear, She flapped her strong, feathered wings, lifted up into the air, and was gone. What had just happened? We realized that we’d been witness to a sacred visitation, a wild welcome, and profound teachings.
“What does it mean to be wise?”
This archetypal wild symbol of wisdom gifted us – with Her presence, her fully embodied, loving ways of being with us; with Her natural, almost ceremonial welcoming energy; with Her calm, confident connection to us; with Her sincere curiousity about us; with Her capacity to see us – and to remind us of intimate truths, some of which we may not have words to describe.
In a state of grace, we walked in silence back to our meeting space. In circle, we engaged together in a collective poetry crafting activity, a reflection on all we’d noticed and been touched by in the wild forest, with the wild beings. From beautiful, evocative metaphors emerged deeper understandings. What if the wild knows more about wisdom that we’ve yet imagined? What if the wild is me and I am the wild? What would it mean to really believe that?
At the close of this session, I stood in the doorway to say farewell to each person, reluctant to end what had been an extraordinary day together. One woman lingered until only she and I remained. She came to stand in front of me, looking somewhat disturbed. She cast her eyes down at first and then up, directly into mine and said, “You have to tell me the truth; did you bring that owl with you?” I would have laughed if she hadn’t looked so serious. “No.” I softly replied. “Well, she continued, “did you know that owl would come to that pond at exactly that time?” Again, I replied, “No.” Her voice became a bit more urgent, and she pressed on “Is it a trained owl? Were you able to call it to come to us?” I looked at her, with compassion for her bewilderment and said, “No.”
I could see her visibly settle; coming to accept and acknowledge something that was both shocking and thrilling to her. “Well, if nothing can explain it, then…I have to believe that our visit with that owl can only have been magic!” “Yes!” I said, reaching out to touch her arm. “What if today, out in the wild, we were blessed to witness magic?!!”
Maybe part of being wise is choosing to believe.
Join Cheryl Rose, Zhiish McKenzie and al etmanski this October 6th-10th, 2025 for their program Eldering in Times of Transformation. You won’t want to miss it!
