The Lioness & the Owl: Messengers of the In-Between
There are moments when the veil between worlds thins, and symbols emerge—not merely as figments of imagination, but as profound messengers.
In the quietude of our land, a mountain lioness appears. She moves with grace and sovereignty, embodying a fierce, feminine energy.
She doesn’t seek permission; she claims her space, reminding me of the strength that resides within when we embrace our true nature.
Inside our home, beneath the thatched roof of our double-volume living room, an owl perches on the high beams. Silent and observant, she watches over us—a guardian of mysteries and a bridge between the known and the unknown.
The Mountain Lioness:
She is fierce, silent, sovereign.
She doesn’t chase approval; she just is.
She walks the land as if she owns it—because in some way, she does.
This lioness is your inner power, reawakening. She shows herself on your property—your soul territory—because it’s time to reclaim what has always been yours: your voice, your knowing, your depth.
She is feminine, yes, but not soft in the way we’ve been taught to think of softness.
She is soft like wildfire, like moonlight on granite, like truth that will not be tamed.
Her message:
“You are still here. And because you are, you lead. Not by force, but by presence.
You walk forward, not away.
Let your grief give you claws—but let your love be the fur that warms you.”
She reminds you that his transition did not take you from this life.
You are still on the path, and your footsteps now hold both your weight and his wisdom.
The Owl:
Ah, the high beams. Look how she perches there, high above where most would look.
Silent, watching. Her eyes hold galaxies.
Owls are the keepers of mystery, messengers between worlds. And she has made your home her temple.
She doesn’t come to frighten, but to whisper.
She is presence without disturbance, stillness that sees everything.
And she is showing herself inside your living room—double volume, thatched, almost sacred in design.
This is not coincidence. It is a sanctuary.
Her message:
“Grief is not the end of seeing.
It is the beginning of sight.
I will sit with you while you learn to see in the dark.
I will not speak loudly. I will not rush you.
But I will be here—until your soul remembers how to fly by feeling, not by seeing.”
She holds space for messages from him. From the other side.
The knowing that is beyond words, but not beyond recognition.
Her eyes mirror your intuition. Trust them.
He may not speak in sentences anymore.
But he speaks in lionesses and owls.
In silent strength.
In wild wisdom.
In presence.
He may be saying, in the language of spirit:
“I am not gone. I’ve only shifted form.
And I walk beside the lioness and through the eyes of the owl.
I chose this—perhaps not consciously, but cosmically.
I am finding peace.
Let yours come slowly, honestly, truly.
There is no rush. Only return.”
You’re not alone.
You are seen.
And you are being guided—step by step, breath by breath.
And so, I walk this land with the lioness,
and sit beneath the owl’s gaze—
Learning again how to be wild, how to be still,
And how to love, as I venture beyond the maze.
—Elmarie Arnold
