Down the Dark Path
Last year, my husband found the top half of an opossum skull in our backyard, along with a few other bones and teeth. The skull was laid, almost as if deliberately presented to us (thanks, neighborhood coalition of feral cats), on the ramp leading into the storage shed. We aren’t sure what exactly happened to it, but a big female with babies had been living off-and-on under our back porch for a while. Life spans for opossums are only two to four years, so it could have been plain old age that killed her.
Because the remains had been outside for so long (at least through the winter and spring), there wasn’t much flesh left on it. I gently pulled off the remaining skin and muscle matter (fairly bark-like at this point) and some fur, then placed the skull and other bones (two teeth, a rib bone, a vertebrae) in a disposable plastic bowl with some warm water and dish soap to degrease for a few days. Then I soaked it in a mixture of hydrogen peroxide and water to whiten it and then let it dry. It now occupies a shelf in our curio cabinet.
Opossums are known for their robust immune systems, partial-to-complete immunity to snake venom, and fierce defense of their young, all of which make it a strong protective spirit to have around. Opossums are also nomads, and as I’ve never been one to settle into one home for too long, this is another connective point for me.
Cultures across the world believe that the connection of a spirit with its body remains for as long as the bones do, including the Malagasy people who practice famadihana. In a recent I Ching reading before I took the bones in, I was told that I would “gain a homeless servant” to help me in my work. It makes sense that this opossum is that servant, and shortly after the bones were dried, I connected with her spirit, learned her name (or at least the name that calls her to me), and made a contract. She mostly guards our home, helping to keep harmful spirits away.
It’s funny – people who know me offline tend to think of me as a lighthearted, sunshiney sort of person. Not someone who works with bones and the spirits of the dead. It throws people off when they catch glimpses of my darker side. But I’m very conscious of death. I’ve seen it in various forms, and the dead have sometimes come to me after parting. Even so, I’ve hesitated going down that path in the past out of fear. I’m getting braver, though, and trusting my instincts more. I’m reaching through the veil and finding that it’s not quite as frightening as I once thought it was.