The Owl by the Lake 🦉✨
Yesterday, my gaze lingered on an owl.
Not a real one.
One made of wood.
She was sitting on a stake on the shore of Lake Sempach. Calm. Alert. Unchanged.
And yet I stopped.
I couldn't help but smile, and later I wondered why this wooden owl, of all things, had moved me so much.
Perhaps because, in many cultures, the owl symbolizes wisdom, intuition, and the ability to see beyond the surface.
Or maybe it's because she reminded me, at just the right moment, of something I'm learning myself right now.
I've been thinking a lot over the past few days.
On Freedom.
On Longing.
About Trust.
And about how rarely in life we really know what the next step will be.
We want clarity.
We'd like to know if we're on the right track.
Whether wishes come true.
Whether encounters have meaning.
Whether life will eventually provide the answers we're waiting for right now.
But life rarely works that way.
Sometimes it doesn't show us the whole way.
Just the next step.
Later, when I thought about the owl again, I realized:
She didn't have to give me an answer.
She didn't have to explain anything.
She just had to be there.
And that's exactly what touched something inside me.
Not because she was alive.
But because it was me.
Perhaps wisdom begins precisely where we stop constantly seeking answers from life—and start trusting it a little more again.
Not wanting to control everything.
Not having to resolve every uncertainty right away.
Instead, take the next step, even if you can't see the whole path yet.
With my eyes open.
With an open heart.
And with a willingness to embrace life rather than trying to control it.
Sometimes it doesn't take anything major to make that happen.
No perfect answers.
No loud messages.
Sometimes, a wooden owl by the lake is enough.
It reminds us to pause. To take a closer look.
And perhaps to realize that much of what we are searching for has long been within us.
Sometimes all it takes is a moment to remind us of that again.