The Snowy Owl – A World Seldom Understood

Have you ever had an experience that you couldn’t explain? Ever felt that you were more than just a bag of slowly dying organs, hurtling through the void of space on a lonely ball of rock? Have you ever felt that you were part of something larger, or that the true nature of our world is hidden by those in power? Zoe Lor’n Dale speaks to Sensa Nostra about her pre-birth memory, and explores the other encounters in her life that have lead her to believe that there is more to this world than first meets the eye.

My name is Zoe, and I was born on August 5th,1993, during The Great Flood of ’93 which occurred in the Mississippi and Missouri rivers from April to October of that year. It was the most costly and devastating flood to happen in the US since the Great Mississippi flood of 1927. I currently live with my family in Oak Harbour, Washington, and I have a small part-time job working with animals and mainly focus on my artwork and photography.

My memory, or whatever you would like to call it, was really quite simple. One day, perhaps five or six years ago, my mother and I were having a regular conversation about some forgotten subject. I imagine it had to do with some anonymous childhood experiences to bring me to the point of mentioning this specific owl memory.

I asked my mother, “Where we were going that day during the snowstorm, when the white owl swooped up and flew over the car?” I had had this memory as long as I could remember, but that was the first moment I had ever mentioned anything about it to anyone.

After I asked the question my mother looked at me in the way she does when she is trying to figure out what to say. She said that snowstorm had happened before I was born, before I was conceived, before she had even met my father. She then asked how I knew about it, because it had happened to her when she was just eighteen years old. She proceeded to ask me what I remember about it and I told her exactly what happened… She was sitting at the wheel, driving during a white-out snowstorm, at the top of the hill in our neighborhood of Aurora Springs in Eldon, Missouri.

I recall floating there next to he, feeling as if I was a large amount of energy condensed into a tiny space in the human realm, being on some kind of different plane. It is somewhat odd for me to understand and articulate, but as I entered the dimension we humans live in, I had a feeling that I was fleeing away, or that I was being followed or chased.

To be more specific about what I saw, it was a snowy owl, its wingspan as wide as the car. He swooped over the hood and windshield. I remember feeling startled to see the owl. It came as a surprise to me, which I find incredibly odd considering the circumstances.

For me, it was just one of those things that happened when you were a small child. One of those things that you don’t remember well and don’t think much to mention for any specific reason, but this memory was very distinct in feeling and visuals. It is the most vivid memory I have ever had, even compared to things I have physically experienced, so for that reason it has always stood out among other memories.

This was the moment I realized this memory was not an ordinary one—when my mother told me what she did. I am absolutely positive she had never mentioned anything to me previously about the owl memory. The feeling inside me cannot lead me astray.

My mother and I have always had a very strained relationship, particularly during my childhood, though our relationship has now progressed into a very healthy and unique one. I was about fourteen years old around the time of our conversation. I discussed it with her before I had much understanding of energy, matter, or form. I remember the conversation being somewhat brief for the significance I felt, so the memory was pushed to the back of my mind for many years. When the owl memory has been brought up since then, my mother has never dismissed it, but more or less questions the same things as I do.

In the years since then I have had many other strange experiences and close extraterrestrial encounters.

While I was in school I had an out-of-body experience. It was English class, the worst class of the day. I would sit there each day, listening to my teacher and telling myself I wasn’t there, over and over, until one day I really left my body. I started to float away and I felt this string stretching from my physical body to my energy. This was a feeling I recognized—the feeling of being a large amount of energy condensed into a small space. I had a perspective of the entire room and of myself sitting there. I had a difficult time coming back to my body, but I managed it, and I haven’t achieved the feeling again since middle school.

My first ‘close encounter’ happened one late summer night in my old farm house. I was sitting outside in the car, listening to music, when I saw a giant white orb, the size of a car, floating over the tree right in front of me. It did not blind me with its lights, but just encouraged me to keep looking. It flew across the field to the left of the house and disappeared over the next hill.

A few minutes later, another smaller, white orb started flashing down by the small cow creek next to my house. It pulsed a few times, then stopped. I flashed at it with a small light and it flashed me back. After we exchanged a couple more flashes it stopped, and I didn’t see anything for the rest of the night. That experience really struck a note in me, encouraging me to learn more about the unknown that goes along with the consistently strange happenings in my life.

A few years later, I was lying under the stars with my aunt, imitating the sounds of an owl. Instantly after my owl sounds we heard a creaking, mechanical and yet organic noise. We looked up into the sky to see a light shoot up and move over, right above us. We watched it turn and point a spotlight right down onto us. We looked at each other, and I was certain that I was about to be abducted. But nothing happened. The light shifted forward, then slowly drifted away and disappeared into nothing.

I can’t honestly tell you why these things have happened to me, or why I was given access to the owl memory. As with many things, it is possible that there is a symbolic representation behind it. Owls do not have the best associations: symbolically, they are linked with the notion of a warning, or advice that must be carefully heeded. I have had family and friends who have come into contact with an owl and had terrible luck.

Over the last twenty years or so, snowy owls have been coming to the United States more often, and I have been reading about a significant increase in snowy owl sightings. I suppose if I were to really let my mind run wild, I would think I was given a sign for major changes ahead of us, or perhaps just a reason to change. I know I have changed. I have grown as a human being to have a greater understanding of life and the universe, and where exactly we stand in it all.

I have been there to experience the pain of poverty and the pain of separation, to learn from those things and to realize true inner wholeness does not come from anything external, but rather from something internal. It comes from within. I cannot say for sure that it was just those experiences that have made me who I am today, but I know that the pain and suffering of life has allowed me to become patient, tolerant, and understanding.

Perhaps this memory of mine is due to genetics, but I often question why it is there at all, and why that memory? Is it possible that after death there is no ending? That we continue on with our souls, our energy, our consciousness? These are things I often wonder. I feel helpless at times—I have had important experiences, but I lack the knowledge to fully understand them.

After all of the strange encounters and things that added up after years and years, I eventually began to realize that there is much more to this world than meets the eye. Other life does exist. We live in a world seldom understood.

My true desire is to create a better tomorrow for everyone, one step at a time. The current system we live in is unsustainable, snowballing out of control. I am sure that I will be here to see the aftermath, but I am not sure if I will survive it. The thought sits in my mind that our species should be classified as a parasite: we live, sucking dry our resources and our very own people. All the while the rich keep getting richer, their lies covered up by the latest trend of suit shorts and hair extensions. I must not say I am ashamed… but that is how I feel.

It is obvious, if your eyes are open, that things are covered up beyond our control and understanding. But that is the problem—our eyes are conditioned to look ahead. We are herded like sheep, taught never to stray and never to question. This is why I have taken the extra step to understand and to speak my mind of my beliefs and experiences.

I realize the state of being our world is in and I feel the universe within myself screaming out that things are out of balance. Can we slow down a little bit? Not rush so much during our days? Appreciate nature more often, be kind to each other? Practice patience, tolerance, understanding? Life is quite the funny thing, and so often misunderstood.

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  • Suzan Tiffany

    Zoe, these are such beautiful experiences. I am thrilled that you share your thoughts so eloquently. Knowing you is such a pleasure. I certainly wish for more love and be to be more tolerant. And, yes, less parasitic. These ideals require effort, thought and action and also faith. Most people are not drawn to such activities. As I read this I felt such a sense of peace and security in the thoughts you have expressed. I will try to experience life in a more open and inquisitive manner. Thank you for sharing.