From the temples of ancient Sumer to the forests of Native America, the owl appears as a frequent and remarkably consistent symbol of the spirit world.

First drawn on prehistoric cave walls, the owl can be associated with religion as early as 2000 BCE as evidenced by the The Queen of the Night Relief, a 4000 year old terracotta base relief presently located in the British Museum in London.  The relief depicts a  winged Sumerian goddess flanked by two large owls and the owls are not decorative but highly symbolic. 

The goddess was called Inanna or 'Divine Lady Owl'.  She was  strongly linked to the underworld through The Descent of Innana.

The story is told on a series of clay tablet from the Queen of the Night period and tells of Inanna's descent into the underworld during the dark of the moon. 

In Pagan Europe, the ancient Celts also saw the owl as a symbol of the underworld while in other cultures the symbolism centered on the soul.  In Australia the aboriginal people believed owls to be the souls of  women. The  Ainu of Japan held the Eagle Owl to be alternately a a divine ancestor or a messenger of the gods.  In Romania, folk tales say that forgiven souls fly to heaven in the guise of Snowy Owls. 

In the Americas, the Aztec god of death, was often depicted with owls and the Hopi god of death was believed to be an owl.  In Mexico, the Little Owl was called "messenger of the lord of the land of the dead", and flew between the land of the living and the dead.  In the Sierras, native peoples believed that the Great Horned Owl captured the souls of the departed and carried them to the underworld.  Several different Native Northern American traditions including the Mojave believed that the soul turned into an owl at death.

The mythology of multiple cultures places the symbolism of the owl firmly in the spirit world.  His mythic role however is largely positive.  As a messenger of the gods he is sacred, a bearer of divine knowledge and a facilitator of communication between the worlds.  As a guide, he bridges the gap between life and death, but more correctly: the space between this reality and the next.

About My Grandmother

My paternal grandmother was a widow before I was born.  And while I didn't realize it when I was a child, I don't think she had a lot of extra money.  I guess that's why instead of visiting often or even calling on the phone she sent me things. Like letters and clippings and eventually a binder.

The binder came with only a couple pages but then she started sending me more pages to fill it.  And so several times a year I'd receive a package of 2 or 3 or 4 photo album pages filled with brightly colored pictures.

Those pictures weren't anything special by ordinary standards.  Most were simply cut from magazines and carefully arranged under the plastic film that covered each page in the album.  But somehow those pages impressed me so much that I still remember the pictures.  A pile of leaves raked up by group of kids.  A little dog in a bright red coat.  A school bus in the rain.

My grandmother came to visit us once or twice a year and when she did she slept in the spare room next to mine.  And I remember how one Christmas Eve we sat together on the bed in that room while she told me the story of the nativity. I will never forget the chills that ran up and down my spine when she told me the story of nativity.

And I have long thought that the presence that was there with us in the room that night was angelic in nature.

My Grandmother's Gift

The next day, on Christmas, my grandmother gave me a little white Bible.  I don't remember getting it and I suspect it didn't impress me as much as the other presents I received.  But I did read it -  off and on, all through my childhood.

I would like to say that I kept reading that Bible or that it was one of my prized possessions but that would not be accurate. What is accurate is that my life veered off the rails and I returned to the Bible my grandmother had infrequently. and that it spent most of the years between now and then in a succession of dresser drawers and boxes.

And yet, somehow, out of the things that mattered more and all things that have come and gone, that little Bible is one of the few things I've hung on to.

In 2012 I moved into a new (old) house. I was still deeply involved in New Age spirituality.  But when I was unpacking I decided to put the Bible my grandmother gave me into my china cabinet alongside my tarot cards and crystals.

And, in 2017, when I began to make my way back to the Faith those things went the way of other mistakes, great and small, and the little white Bible stayed.

And there were in the same country shepherds watching, and keeping the night watches over their flock.  And behold an angel of the Lord stood by them, and the brightness of God shone round about them; and they feared with a great fear.  And the angel said to them: Fear not; for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy... -  St. Luke 2:8-10