One day, during the time of COVID, as my granddaughter and I walked she told me about her family’s spirit animals. And she, of course, asked me about mine. Until then, thinking about such things was of no interest to me. Jokingly, my immediate response was, “I am clearly a loon.”

She didn’t yet have the perspective of “loon,” used colloquially to describe a crazy person. I thought it was rather clever of me, though she thought it was a bit bizarre. Go figure.

We talked about what the heck a spirit animal is, anyhow. I told her that I always thought that a spirit animal was an animal (should reincarnation be a real thing) that I might enjoy embodying next time around. With some reading later on I learned about other interpretations, but when she introduced the subject that day that was the one I was using.

Fantasizing about the idea, I admit that in many youthful dreams I could fly. Not in a plane, but able to push up from anywhere unassisted to silently soar on a thermal with complete control, unaided in any way. I certainly am NOT interested in doing this on a glider in this lifetime, but the idea of doing it independent of cumbersome equipment is sweet.

So I guess I would be destined to be a bird. But confidence and skill in the air would not be enough. I would want to be just as competent in the water … floating, diving, staying under long enough to take it all in … with comfort. So I guess I would be destined to be a diving water bird. (I learned that loons can, indeed, dive to a depth of more than one hundred feet beneath the water’s surface and can remain underwater for up to 15 minutes. From just a few days old, loons have excellent underwater vision.) Hmm …

But I am not fond of glaring sunlight, hot climates or sandy beaches. My water bird would need to be content in the cooler mountain air, on a secluded lake surrounded by dense green woods, far from civilized cacophony and people-clutter. This re-formulated version of me would also need to have a voice that is pleasing to hear, with no harsh unmodulated Philadelphia accent — as is the current situation. My smooth and mellow voice could glide across calm waters and be lifted to fill the crisp air, with a lingering bit of a soft echo. Other beings lucky enough to hear this rare call could not help but smile inside. (It just so happens that each loon does have a broad repertoire of unique vocalizations, including the infamous wail and “loony” laugh that helps adult loons contact one another, find wayward children and shoo off intruders.) Hmm …

The outward beauty of my bird should not be flamboyant. No rainbow colors or ornate feather arrangements for this aspirational bird. But plumage that completely blends into the background doesn’t seem right either. My bird’s physical presentation should gently complement its surroundings.

My mountain lake, mellow-singing, water bird in simple-yet-elegant attire, would also need to be family-oriented. This marvelous creature would be a joyful and nurturing parent. (Actually, loons do live in bonded lifelong family units. Their chicks climb up into the feathers of either parent’s back, falling asleep there.) Hmm …

So, in consideration of my originally assumed definition of a spirit animal as a wanna-be-next-time-around critter, perhaps a loon is not far off. However, “common loon,” as this black and white patterned wonder is known, is an unfortunate name. The “common” moniker might erroneously convey a vision of a less-than-noteworthy creation. Better might be: omnipresent loon, serene loon, simpatico loon.

It turns out that there are many variations on the theme of spirit animals. Among the versions I read is one that included attributes of someone with a loon totem. These include:
– Pays attention to dreams and can often remember them.
– Is calm and content most of the time but can summon an inner call to action, especially to support lasting bonds with family and close friends.
– Is creative and resourceful in the face of challenges.
– Uses eloquent speech to enrich communication.

Communication, contentment, devotion, dreams, family, patience … hmm … If my preferred interpretation of spirit animal pans out, and reincarnation is a thing and I come back as a loon, I could feel quite comfortable in that new skin. But I certainly would NOT be a common loon. A serendipitous loon, perhaps.

So I have shared with my family that, when I’m on my deathbed, fading from this life and into my next adventure, whatever that might be, please do not play music. Play lots of loon calls for me … the calls with that sweet mountain lake echo. Please.
I had fun learning about my loony self. Might researching potential spirit animals for yourself be a temporary, but pleasant distraction during the interesting times in which we live?

Mature Content is a monthly feature from Age-Friendly Carbondale.