Month: April 2019

What Are People Thinking? – Day 149

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Guardrail Garbage – Photo: L. Weikel

What Are People Thinking?

I know. What a question. It’s provocative in so many ways, right?

I’ll give you some context: I set off in a different direction today than I usually ever walk. I wanted to see how far it is and how long it would take me to circumnavigate the Tohickon from a different perspective.

Unfortunately for me, this entailed walking along Dark Hollow Road, where the speed limit is 35 yet this obviously pertains to no one. I’m the first to admit that keeping one’s speed at or below 35 on this major, albeit ‘country,’ thoroughfare is extremely difficult. But one would think it would be much, much easier to be aware of that speed when there’s a person walking along the side of the road.

Think of the Hassle!

If nothing else, wouldn’t hitting a person with your vehicle be a hassle? Not to mention bloody, undoubtedly painful for everybody via injuries, potentially deadly, inflicting a major hit to one’s wallet, and just plain inconvenient – for it would undoubtedly make you late for whatever destination you are busting your hump to get to that you can’t let up on the accelerator much less put on your brakes when you see a person on the side of the road.

Every single time I heard a car coming – from either direction – I would deliberately step off the road and get as far away from the road surface as possible. But just like most roads, in some places that was easier to do than others.

Ignorance? Or Unconsciousness?

It was infuriating, then, to witness how the majority of people either ignorantly or obliviously acted as if my presence close to the roadway bore absolutely no relevance to the operation of their vehicle. Most cars that approached me (for I was walking on the correct side of the road, which is facing toward on-coming traffic) neither perceptibly slowed down in the least, nor did they move over toward the middle of the road to even cross the center line. It was as if they were constitutionally prohibited from leaving their lane to be either courteous or safe – regardless of the fact that no cars were coming in the other direction.

We are talking a country road. And I am referring to places where there was significant sight distance. I wasn’t asking people to take any risks on for themselves; I was simply hoping they might use a tiny bit of common sense and at least decelerate and move over.

Apparently that was too much to ask.

To make matters worse, I did not get further than a quarter of a mile and I had the plastic grocery bag I’d brought with me filled to the brim (and heavy!) with mostly broken beer bottles, as I’d had to choose. It was as if I were walking along a buffet table of ignorance.

Besides the hundreds of cigarette butts, there were glass bottles, both broken and intact, plastic bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors, potato chip bags, power bar wrappers, McDonald’s and Dunkin’ Donut detritus, plastic bags, electrical outlet plugs, a heavy box filled with razor blades…

Yes. You read that right. <<shudder>>

Choose Your Battles?

Not only did I have to make an initial choice of what to focus my retrieval process on, but I also had to be extremely discerning on when and where to pick up. The whoosh of so many of the vehicles passing so closely to me full speed ahead was, quite frankly, in even measure terrifying and enraging.

I heard myself apologizing to Mother Earth over and over and over as I walked. It boggles my mind that people can be so unconscious (or so colossally ignorant).

But the coup de grace came when I was walking down Stump Road as it approaches Ralph Stover State Park. I was surrounded by trees upon trees, with admonitions of no hunting or fishing allowed on state lands posted intermittently. Birds sang and called to each other high in the trees, while the first spits of rain and rumblings of thunder encouraged me to move it and seek shelter. I’d already relieved myself of the weight of a full bag of trash when I spotted a county park garbage can about a mile earlier, and was already close to having another filled when I came upon a stretch of newly installed guardrail alongside the road.

Is This Apathy?

I was astounded to discover massive nuts and bolts obviously left over from the old and presumably damaged guardrail scattered underneath each joint  where sections of guardrail were bolted together. Not only were there dozens of these substantial and hefty nuts and bolts laying beside the road, there were spikes, too. It was apparent that the people who replaced the guardrail did not think to pick up and dispose of the old nuts, bolts, and spikes used to hold guardrails together and in place. They just left them there.

Honestly: who does this?!? In what world would anyone – particularly those tasked with maintaining the safety of the roadway – think it’s ok to just drive away without picking up and disposing of these items?  Can you imagine the damage that would be done to most cars if one of these items bounced up and hit a headlight or a windshield? I cringe when I consider the harm that could come to a motorcyclist or bicyclist.

I was incensed as I picked these items up. I didn’t even have enough room in my (second) bag to pick all of them up – so I will have to go back tomorrow. The handles to my plastic bag were stretching and cutting off the circulation in my fingers. With the bottles and cans I’d already picked up (again), it had to have weighed fifteen or twenty pounds, at least.

A Quick Pic

It was thundering and I caught sight of some lightning as I was picking these items up, so I made haste. As a result, I only managed to take a quick shot of a few of them laying on the ground (a photo I thought about sending to the road maintenance department but almost certainly won’t). I’d already picked up a bunch from this spot, but at least you can see what I was talking about. Sadly, it was actually far worse than this looks.

All of which causes me to circle back to my original question: what are people thinking?

How can we live in a world with prancing pigs and peepers, and gorgeous moments when the sun breaks through clouds following a storm (like the shot below, which I captured about an hour after my encounter with the nuts, bolts, and spikes), and remain so grossly uncaring about our environment – and each other?

I don’t understand.

Yet maybe there is nothing to understand. Maybe it’s just a matter of doing and being what we know is right and true for ourselves. If our actions inspire others, great. If not…

(T-962)

After the Storm – Photo: L.Weikel 9 April 2019

Pig Tales – Day 148

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Mmmm. Delicious; Photo: L.Weikel

Pig Tales

Luckily for me, I was able to take advantage of today’s balmy temperatures (upper 70s!) to continue my recent walking extravaganza. Even better, however, was my discovery that our pigs have survived the great culling – at least so far. Sadly, though, only one pig is frolicking in the field that’s close to the road.

Actually, we realized she was back yesterday, and we wondered if she’d been the only one to escape the butcher’s knife. But today we caught a glimpse of at least four or five of her compatriots in a field to the north of hers, frolicking with lambs and their mamas.

I cannot tell if this is my sweet #245 because the brass tag on her collar is too muddy to read. But she sure seemed happy to see us come into view. She tore across the field, not once but twice today to greet us with a vocal and vociferous “Hi! How the heck are you? Long time no see!”

Celebrating Her Return

The first time I saw her today, I was so thrilled and relieved to see her again that I gave her a couple of my organic dog treats.  I definitely think she is #245, because her delight in seeing us was palpable, and she snarfed up the dog treats (ok, I gave her two) without a moment’s hesitation.

The second time around, though, I remembered to bring a carrot for her. Alas, I.M. Carrot went into the mulch pile several days ago, so I brought a wonderfully fresh, straight out of the refrigerator, organic carrot for my Piggety Pig.

As you can see from the top photo, she loved it. Indeed, after munching on it for a moment, she quickly ran away with it, as if making off with a prize that she wanted to hoard all to herself. Again, that’s not hard for her to accomplish since she’s the only one currently living in this particular field. Nevertheless, she was adorable in her zeal to eat that carrot with relish.

More Porcine Ponderings

Believe it or not, the delight we felt at both the return of my Piggety Pig and her absolutely thorough enjoyment of the carrot caused Karl and me to ponder:

“Do we feed the Pig? Or does the Pig feed us?”

We got a good chuckle out of our very Zen musing. (Don’t judge.) (And it actually is worth a ponder or two, if you think about it.)

As we said goodbye to Piggety Pig (aka #245) for the evening, we walked a bit further up the hill and caught sight of the rest of her kin playing and foraging in the distance. Prompted by the joy I felt in that moment, I did a quick bit of research. I’m sharing what I learned because it just seems like something we all should know:

“The name for a group of pigs depends on the animals’ ages. A group of young pigs is called a drift, drove, or litter. Groups of older pigs are called a sounder of swine, a team or passel of hogs or a singular of boars.”

So it gives me surreal satisfaction to surmise that our sounder of swine are safely ensconced and saved from the sadness of slaughter. So far so good (at least).

Making a getaway with the goods. Photo: L.Weikel

(T-963) P.S. It seems like we should be able to call them a passel of pigs, too – not just hogs. But what do I know?

I Walk – Day 147

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Wild Sky – Walking Home Last Night; Photo: L. Weikel

I Walk

See, it’s the little things that make me realize my mortality. Or at least realize I’m no longer 42.

I walk. That’s my primary means of getting exercise, with a random yoga class thrown in sporadically just to remind me of what flexibility might feel like.

Karl and I almost always walk together. And we try to walk every day. Walking together has been the backbone of our marriage.

We have our ‘usual route’ – the one we’ve walked consistently for the past 34 years. Although truth be told, in the very earliest years that we lived here, we probably were largely inconsistent.

And we take a plastic grocery store bag with us every single time we take a walk.

Never Walk Without a Bag Stuffed In My Pocket

I have to admit, picking up trash while we walk is the most natural thing in the world to me. It’s such an integral part of my psyche that I try to always have an extra bag in my pocket just in case I’m walking somewhere and I see stuff that needs to be picked up. (And as we all know, it is rare to go anywhere and not see – at the very least – cigarette butts on the ground.)

But this is not a post about trash. It’s a post about walking; or at least that’s what I intended when I started this evening.

The route Karl and I almost always take measures 2.2 miles from doorway to doorway. Occasionally we’ll have enough time and flexibility to make it ‘around’ twice, but lately, at least, that’s been a bit challenging.

Piling On the Mileage

So it took its toll yesterday when, in a fit of pique I set off to one of our County Parks. (‘High Rocks,’ which we pass every day, is a State Park.)  Karl and I had already walked around once (during which a disagreement between us took shape), but then I strode to Tohickon Valley Park after our failure to resolve our mutual irritations reached an extra special level of misunderstanding. Once at the park, I used one of the spanking new wooden picnic tables to write in my journal, an exercise that actually yielded a lot more clarity and compassion than I was expecting. The sun set shortly thereafter, thus closing the park, so I packed up and made the return trek home.

All told, including my initial 2.2 miles with Karl, I walked 7.6 miles yesterday.

Then today I walked a total of 8 miles even.

Yep. And I can attest: I can barely keep my eyes open. But the most interesting aspect of this is how much my feet ache. I never would’ve guessed that aching feet would be the predominant sequelae to my walking barely 8 miles a day. That just sounds so – mundane, I guess. But here I am.

Aching Feet – But Some Great Benefits, Too

But aside from the aching feet (and looking like I’m about 100 years old when I first get up from the couch to retrieve something from another room), I feel great on many levels.

I love logging some significant miles under my belt – if nothing else, it gives me an area of life that I can playfully compete with my son. (AS IF.) (He’s a runner and is starting to train for bigger and better competitions, so…the tracking of my mileage is just a fun distraction ‘thing’ we do for laughs.)

I also love/hate pushing myself a bit more. Our baseline 2.2 miles is a wonderful daily practice (and is essential to our pups’ health and happiness as well), but I can feel a difference when I walk for more miles.

I’ve slept like a rock. And I’m hoping the extra miles will burn off the after-effects of the recent spate of birthday cakes a bit more quickly.

Inspiration and Change

But my greatest wish/desire/goal?  I’m hoping this increased time spent directly one-on-one with Mother Earth will inspire me to whip open my laptop upon my return each day and work enthusiastically on my next project. While I’ve had the rough material ready to write for decades, I know my perspective shifts with each extra day I live, and I am eager to see the direction my tale ultimately takes. (That’s where some trust comes in.)

There is change in the air. My goal is to harness that change and apply it to my body, my attitude, my service, and my life in general. One step at a time. One picked-up cigarette butt at a time. One typed word at a time.

But in the meantime…I’m going to get some sleep!

Closing Time at the Park; Photo: L.Weikel

(T-964)

 

Exploring the Physician/Shaman Relationship – Day 146

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Exploring the Physician/Shaman Relationship

We’re rapidly approaching ‘last call’ for registration to attend our unique four-day experiential gathering, Listening to Spirit, in the gorgeous Appalachians of western North Carolina.

Modern medicine: where would we be without it? Many of us probably wouldn’t even be alive right now if it weren’t for the untold advances that have been made in this scientific field.

Most physicians (of whatever stripe: M.D., D.O., N.D., D.C., etc.) have a particular way of treating patients, mostly by utilizing state-of-the-art diagnostic tools, medicines, and focusing upon alleviating patients’ symptoms. But what if those symptoms tell only half or even a quarter of the story? What if the patient herself has absolutely no idea what’s been triggered deep within to cause her body to manifest particular symptoms? And what if your patient appears unresponsive to all conventional treatments?

What Do You Do When Conventional Approaches Fail?

When everything else has failed, a physician who holds their patient’s healing at the core of their focus might consider using unconventional means to address such stubborn cases.

If you worked hard for your medical degree and care passionately about giving your very best to all of your patients, Wendy Warner, M.D., and I encourage you to expand your healing repertoire to include offering patients the chance to heal their energy bodies as well as their physical bodies.

Perhaps the concept of ‘energy bodies’ sounds ridiculous to you. We simply ask you to remember what you already know: that our bodies are living, breathing, organisms that work together to create excellent health. You know we are more than the sum of our parts. Shamanic work accesses other layers of reality to discern what is out of balance that may be causing the illness or disease that is resisting conventional treatment.

And since shamanic work is by its very nature experiential, this long weekend is designed to help you, as a medical practitioner, learn about it first hand and perhaps experience your own breakthrough.

The setting is exquisitely conducive to healing: Amadell, a residential retreat center in Luck, North Carolina, where nature spirits abound and the mountains themselves bring a healing ‘touch.’

Join us. Learn about an ancient way of being that, when mindfully offered as an option in a conventional medical practice can transform some of your most intractable issues.

Where: Amadell, Luck, North Carolina         When: Thursday, May 16 – Sunday, May 19, 2019

Price: $575, meals included (lodging separate)            Lodging: Amadell – book directly with Amadell.org – if needed, other locations can also be recommended by the staff at Amadell;

To register: email Wendy Warner, M.D. at: drwarner@medicineinbalance.com.

It’s time for Prophecy of the Eagle and the Condor to come true. Learn about that, too – and be a part of the healing of humanity. But as always, it starts with us. Join us!

(T-965)

Cabin at Amadell – Photo courtesy Amadell.org

An Interesting Irony – Day 145

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An Interesting Irony

Well, that’s a title that could lead us anywhere, is it not? Let’s see, there are so many paths I could take. I’ll just tell you where I was going with this:

Cell phones. Good grief, how they have changed our lives – particularly the ‘smart phone’ variety. It really is staggering to contemplate just how much power we hold in our hands every day.

It is weird to think back on the first big huge bulky clunky contraptions that almost needed to be carried with two hands, in big cases, that were incredibly heavy and unwieldy. And the reception? Awful. But if you could afford one of those bad boys, you were cutting edge.

Their First Appearance

Regular cell phones – i.e., ‘flip phones’ and the like, were certainly revolutionary. It was so great to be able to talk to Karl and Maximus when they went off to college and not have to call a pay phone in the hallway of their dorms, or even call a landline in their rooms, although those were still options.

Come to think of it, I may be thinking back to my first year or two in college when I reference pay phones in the hallway of the dorm. Yes…Bigler Hall at Penn State. I don’t know. My memory may be confused. If any of my peeps from back then (Bregettes?) are reading this, perhaps they can refresh my recollection.

Anyway. The actual point I wanted to make tonight had to do with how much our cell phones – and texting in particular – have changed the way we stay in touch with each other, particularly parents and children – and how that has an impact much deeper and wider than just the superficial contact.

My kids are all adults now. With few exceptions it is rare that if I send a text, I do not receive a response. Of course, that’s if it is a text that obviously is requesting or requiring an immediate response.

I rarely request or require an immediate response. But the mere fact that I have the knowledge in the back of my mind that if I really needed them, I could reach them changes my life.

The Blessing and Curse of Instant Access

Having been an exchange student in Sweden back in ’76-’77, I remember all too vividly how different telephonic communication was back then. Wow. It was incredibly special to be able to make a phone call overseas. They were expensive, so it was a very rare treat to be able to hear my mother’s voice.

And yet, that inability to just pick up the phone and communicate instantaneously played a huge role in promoting resilience – and not just on my part as a 17 year old, either. It had to have fostered an amazing amount of trust and fortitude on the part of my parents, too – particularly my mother, as we enjoyed each other’s company and were close. What can she (they, to be fair) possibly have been thinking, sending their 17 year old daughter off to Sweden for a year?

Probably at least part of my love for writing is rooted in the prolific letter-writing I engaged in to keep the thread of energetic connection to my mother intact. And she was great about corresponding with me, too. I was homesick – no doubt about it – but the letters kept me connected. Kept us connected. And I’m not even touching upon the grounding and catharsis that occurs when pen is put to paper…

Do They Promote Independence? Or Dependence?

The difference I see now is that cell phones almost keep us too connected. For instance, a couple weekends ago, Sage and Sarah took a road trip. I would not ordinarily think twice about it, but they called while on the road, and I knew they had a many hours ahead of them. I texted them (both, since I didn’t know who would be driving and who would be riding shotgun) later in the evening, figuring they were about mid-way through their trip.

No response.

OK, I thought. No big deal. Maybe they turned their phones off. (No, I didn’t really think they both did that, but I did entertain it as a possibility just to shut myself up.) Or maybe they were in the midst of an intense conversation, or listening to something really great on the radio. No big deal.

Then a few hours after that, I tried texting again, just to see how far away they were from their destination. Again – no response.

Lost Perspective

It was at this moment that I felt a squiggle of worry pass through me. Worry?! Because my kids in their mid-20s weren’t texting me back, even though we’d chatted earlier in the evening?

How odd. And how objectively ridiculous a feeling. I know that if we did not have the ability to communicate in this way, I would not have thought twice about them (in a worried sense).

I do not like having the question, “Should I be worried?” pass through my body and psyche simply because I cannot instantaneously reach them on their cell phones. And this is especially true given that I didn’t ‘have a bad feeling.’ No. But a ‘bad feeling’ did try mightily to sink its hooks into me when neither of them responded.

Honestly, I checked in with my intuition and got zero sense that I needed to worry, so I didn’t. But it made me think. And reflect.

Self-Reliance

If I’d had a cell phone when I was in Sweden, I wonder if I would have cultivated the self-reliance that I know was probably one of the single greatest benefits I received from living abroad for a year. And I imagine on some level it must have been huge for my mother, too. All she had to go on from one day to the next were my letters. Letters which I’d written probably 7-10 days earlier.

Wow.

There It Is Again

I just realized something. Here I am uncovering yet another way in which trust has played a huge role in my life. Or perhaps more accurately, I’ve isolated some of the greatest circumstances that demanded I hone my abilities of discernment and trust, which have carried forward (and served me well) throughout my entire life. I had to figure out which little worries flitting through my mind and body demanded attention and which ones were just fear of the boring, everyday, mostly-made-up-in-your head variety.

Discernment like that takes practice. And I wonder if the ubiquitous availability of cell phones is stunting the cultivation of this skill in all of us. If it is, how can we cultivate it in other ways?

(T-966)

Fuzzy Brain – Day 144

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Photo: L.Weikel

Fuzzy Brain

I just wrote several paragraphs on the subject of me making up a new word: ponderable. Actually, it’s already a word, but used only as an adjective. I wanted to make it into a noun.

Don’t ask me why. I can’t really answer, except for the fact that I’m tired. I think perhaps the tree buds bursting forth and coating everything with a slightly yellow-green coating of pollen (that almost looks like peach fuzz) has caused me to contract a touch of ‘fuzzy brain.’

Details Deferred

I would like to share more with you about my experiences yesterday, starting with those creatures who ‘visited’ me while I sat beside the creek, and the significance I read into each of those amazing moments. But I fear I’m going to have to defer to the effects of fuzzy brain syndrome.

Perhaps I need to attempt to write my posts earlier in the evening, at least during allergy season.

It’s interesting to see how variables we’re not even expecting to hold sway over us suddenly do.

Complications of Context

Part of the reason fuzzy brain may be having an impact is because the events of yesterday are not simply relayed seriatim. No, their import cannot be fully realized without some context, which thus necessitates further explication of events that took place some weeks ago.

And just in writing that, I see for myself why I simply cannot muster the necessary mojo, as it were, to begin this process.

Wow.

That’s a lot of words to say I’m not going to write a lot of words tonight.

Don’t Forget the New Moon – and the Seeds of Your Intentions

In closing, I’m going to simply remind you that we’re enjoying a day of a powerful new moon in Aries. It sounds as though this particular new moon is readying to shoot us forward into our futures like a slingshot.

As with any powerful surge forward, probably the best we can do is point ourselves in the direction of where we hope to go. Setting intentions, planting seeds, opening our minds to perhaps doing things in new ways than we’ve ever done them before are all wonderful approaches to this ‘dark night’ – when the moon is fully obscured and we wait patiently another day or so to see the first tiny sliver of reflected sunlight begin again to illuminate the evening sky.

I can’t say where the clarity to write that paragraph came from. But I think I should leave well enough alone.

Sleep soundly, sow well, and dream your world into being!

(T-967)

Getting Psyched for the New Moon – Day 143

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Tohickon Creek 3 April 2019 – Photo: L. Weikel

Getting Psyched for the New Moon          

The moon will be ‘new’ at 4:50 a.m., EDT, on Friday, April 5th . When a new moon occurs, as I’ve mentioned before, it’s a perfect time to launch a new project, set intentions, or implement changes you’ve wanted to make in your life, etc.

The new moon that will occur on Friday will be especially powerful with respect to moving forward into something new and powerful because it will be in Aries, the first sign of the zodiac, symbolized by the ram. This will be the first new moon since the spring equinox – so there are just heaps and heaps of initiating energy bursting forth at this new moon.

What Seeds Do You Want to Sow?

I’m mentioning all of this now so you might actually give yourself a day and evening to seriously contemplate what new seeds you would like to plant in your life, now that we have the first full quarter of 2019 under our belts. Surely you want to take all of the energy associated with this new moon and ‘carpe diem.’ Take into account all of the life and circumstance review and reflection you engaged in over the past three weeks while Mercury was retrograde.

Personally, I had a day today that held so much magic in it, I have to admit that I am still contemplating what happened and deciphering the precise message(s) I received. Amazingly, most of the exact same messengers who showed up in my life throughout March made unexpected guest appearances today. And they were accompanied by truly some of the most spectacular winged messengers that I’ve ever encountered.

I will elaborate more as the days unfold.

Prairie Dog (Rx) / Dragonfly

In the meantime, I just want to let you know that I chose Prairie Dog reversed today with Dragonfly underneath. And the mood I was in when I chose these cards was, shall we say…dark. Indeed, I was so distraught within my own self that I could barely read our chosen cards out loud today without bursting into tears.

I am not one to cry easily.

I managed to keep it together, though – at least initially – getting the dishes done from the night before and then heading to the creek, my Tohickon, my life-long refuge when existence gets too hard to handle.

I parked in my favorite spot, put down my car’s window, and sat about four feet from the bank, the water rushing past on its way to merging with the Delaware (Lenape Sipu). After surrendering to my mood, shifting my gaze into neutral, and allowing myself to be bathed in the sound of Mama Tohickon’s voice, I started writing out my fears.

A Duck That Wanted to Play

My first visitor. Photo: L. Weikel

Within the time it took to write a paragraph, the first visitor arrived.  A beautiful duck that chose to just drift along following the current – then shot the rapids. Mind you, the ‘rapids’ might not be perceived as such by you or me – but for a duck that size? They were a wild ride. So much so – and so apparently much fun – that when it shortly flew back upstream, I wondered if it would drift by once more and ‘shoot’ them again.

He did, and he did.

But that was just the warm-up act. Oh. My. Goodness.

I’ll save the rest of that tale for tomorrow. As I said to Karl on our walk this evening, this was one of the single most magical days I’ve ever experienced. And trust me: that’s saying a lot.

The ‘rapids’ he shot. Photo: L. Weikel

Spirit Heard My Call and Held Me

As for my Prairie Dog reversed? I made a point of stepping back from all the tasks I had written in my Day-Timer that I wanted to accomplish today. I needed to retreat from the world before I created an illness that would ‘take me out.’ I needed to listen– and ultimately, I needed to be shown the illusion (Dragonfly).

I needed guidance. I needed perspective. I needed hope.

I received all of that and more. More than I had a right to even hope for, much less expect (but am oh-so-grateful to have received).

In my photos, you have to look closely to see my rapids-shooting duck, because all I had was my iPhone. I did manage to video him shooting the rapids – but it’s a video –  and I’ve yet to figure out how to upload that somewhere where I can put a link to it here in the blog. (Oh technology, you foul temptress.)

I’ll try to identify him. Just not tonight.

Don’t forget to mull over your intentions for the new moon arriving Friday morning…

(T-968)

Foiled – Day 142

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Cuddle Pigs 29 March 19 – Photo: L.Weikel

Foiled!

I had a mission today. A mission that was foiled.

I was really looking forward today to bringing a most exclusive organic treat to the precious pigs that run across the field to greet us every day.

Back Story

Every once in a while I’ve shared an organic dog treat with my porcine brethren and sistren (is that even a word?).  Remember, in Chinese astrology, I am an Earth Pig, also known as a Monastery Pig, so we have a bond. Even though I shouldn’t be, given their sweet and playful natures, I’ve been astounded by how gently these hefty creatures nibble the treat from my fingers.

Indeed, one in particular, “245,” was deemed by us to be the brightest of them all – because s/he would bound across the field when s/he saw us walking up the hill alongside their field. I was pretty sure s/he remembered the tiny dog treats I’d occasionally give her, although s/he also seemed to respond to my voice, which automatically and unconsciously immediately climbs three registers whenever I encounter babies, small children, or animals of any kind.

I’m referring to my favorite pig as “245” because that was the number embossed on the metal charm attached to her collar. I hadn’t yet discerned a name coming from her in our encounters. Indeed, I was focusing more on her face and didn’t think to check out the nether regions – and for that I apologize, since its causing me to vacillate on the whole gender pronoun thing in this post.

An Effort at Inter-Species Diplomacy

Today, though. Today was going to be special because I was going to bring I.M. Carrot, the Emissary from the Kingdom of Vegetable, and offer him to my sweet 245. It felt only fitting that the circle of life be played out before my eyes between my favorite organic carrot and my favorite piece of pork.

Ugh. Sorry.

I shudder at that. I do. I have not eaten pork in at least a decade – ever since I realized not only how smart pigs are but also that eating them lowers your vibration and thus should not be eaten before ‘doing my Work.’

And that is where my post is leading me. My cloven-footed friends did not bound across the field to greet me today, ears waggling and waving as they bounced toward the fence separating us. Not only didn’t they come to me – they were nowhere to be seen.

Instead, the door to their pen was ajar and there was what appeared to be a horse trailer parked beside it.

This makes me very sad. Indeed, Karl turned to me as we gazed at the empty field and said, “Uggggh. I hope they’re not being butchered for people’s Easter dinners.”

Butchered – What an Ugly Word

I know; I know. That’s what they were raised for; it is their particular mission in life to live happy lives foraging in an expansive open field, methodically (and quite efficiently) turning up the grass with their slightly upturned snouts to devour the grubs and worms lurking just under the greenery. And then, when the time is right, offering themselves as nourishment to be savored by us two-leggeds.

I understand. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Just in case, though, I’m going to bring I.M. Carrot with me tomorrow, too, on the off chance that maybe my friends just took a ride somewhere today. You know – an afternoon jaunt to view greener pastures.

I wish I had a photo to offer you here of 245 munching I.M. Carrot. That would’ve been epic. Giving diplomacy a whole new twist.

 

(T-969)

I ask you, “What’s so great about those pigs when you have us?” – Photo: L.Weikel

Revisiting Trust – Day 141

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Deer Showing Trust – Photo: L. Weikel

Revisiting Trust

Trust. Again.

One of my favorite topics.

A day doesn’t go by when I’m not asked to exercise it in some capacity or another. It used to be that I would only have to consciously choose to ‘trust’ some days. Not every day. But now that I’ve embarked upon my 1111 Devotion odyssey, I’m faced with the responsibility of choosing to trust every single day or else risk breaching my commitment, my act of devotion, to Karl.

I’m not talking about mundane acts of trust, either, like the ones we all engage in every day simply by choosing to live in society, such as trusting that people are going to obey traffic laws or trusting the food I buy at the grocery store isn’t going to kill me.

No, I’m talking about choices that can be significantly important not only to myself, but to others.

Different Types and Different Levels of Trust

For instance, when I have a session with a client, I never know what’s going to be asked of me. I never know what, exactly, I am going to be asked by that client’s soul to do for that person. So every time I have a session with someone, which is not every day of every week, obviously, I am asked to trust that I will know what to do for my client’s highest and best outcome. And beyond that, I need to trust that the timing is correct.

Some days that means I need to journey to retrieve a lost soul part – an aspect of my client that has taken refuge in a safe place because it no longer felt safe here in this ‘Middle World,’ which in Quechua is known as the ‘Kaypacha.’ Sometimes it means journeying to find an ally, perhaps a power animal or a guide that takes the form of some other life form (not an animal), including perhaps a Being that appears in the form of a person. In all of these situations, I’m asked to trust. Trust what I’m told; trust what I’m shown; trust that even if it makes no sense to me, I am to relay it.

Every time I meet with a client I am asked to trust my role as messenger. And that is a role I consider essential and sacred. And sometimes requires the utmost delicacy.

I’m also asked to trust that what I ‘get’ is actually what my client truly needs. For instance, sometimes I’m told/shown or otherwise nudged into awareness that my client may have picked up a ‘hitchhiker.’ (I refer to these instances this way because otherwise, due to cultural prejudices, I might freak people out.) Nevertheless, if I’m shown that a hitchhiker might be present, I have to trust what I’m shown enough to bring the subject up, even if the idea of it might unsettle them at first.

That’s a Lot of Trust

It’s funny. When I did a search of my blog posts to see which ones contained references to ‘trust,’ 29 different entries came up. Wow! I knew I’d discussed trust before, but I honestly didn’t realize just how important this concept is to me – and as I perused them, how varied an array of instances exists in which trust plays a huge part in the way I live my life.

So, I will cut to the chase. Believe it or not, the silly post I wrote yesterday also has to do with trust. Yes, the missive from I.M. Carrot, Emissary of the Kingdom of Vegetable, was a direct result of me exercising trust: specifically, the trust I am now bound to exercise every single night: trusting that I will have something to write about.

I Never Know Where the Next Idea Will Sprout

When I found myself pulling the industrial-sized bag of organic carrots out of our refrigerator Sunday afternoon, I can assure you, I only had peeling a couple and dipping them in Buffalo-style spiced hummus on my mind. I was not thinking about what I would write that evening.

But there I was. Face to face with a carrot worthy of its own back story. Worthy of being christened with its own name, for heaven’s sake!

And I guarantee – as I stated at the end of my post last night – that carrot looks exactly as it did when I pulled it from the bag. I did not augment the appearance of its eyes with a little ‘Sharpie Shadow.’ I did not alter it in any way whatsoever. No. And while I did take a photo of it, I did not think it would end up starring in its own show.

But there you have it. I promise you, every single night is an Act of Trust that a seed of an idea will drop into my mind and sprout a thread for me to weave into something – even a silly fantasy about vegetables– that will entertain you for a few minutes each day.

It’s only because of my devotion to the memory of my eldest son that I’m trusting this process. Every. Single. Night. I love you, Karl.

Karl being Karl

(T-970)

Vegetables Demand Seat at the Table – Day 140

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Honorable ‘I.M. Carrot’ – Emissary, Kingdom of Vegetable** – Photo: L.Weikel

Fly-Fishing Assessment

Let me start this post off by acknowledging that some of you had surprisingly strong opinions regarding fisherpeople and their environmental hygiene. As I may have said somewhere in some comment, the Tohickon is a tremendously popular place for fly fishing. And while I have encountered the occasional fishing line tangled in a branch or in a bush along the banks, my overarching experience has been positive.

This was at least sort of confirmed today when we took our walks and found slightly less garbage than we find on a usual day. I’m going to take that as a good sign. Given the huge increase in both traffic and parked cars at High Rocks State Park yesterday, I would not have been surprised if there’d been a proportional increase in trash. I was pleasantly surprised. Perhaps there was more awareness being exercised this year than in years gone by? Whatever caused it, I applaud it!

Now to get to the crux of this post, as evidenced by its title:

Vegetables Demand Seat at the Table

Vegetables are finding their voices. They’re demanding recognition.

Indeed, the Kingdom of Vegetable sent an Emissary to provide proof that they are peaceful beings who want only to be recognized as sentient co-tenants on this planet.

This Emissary is an impressive specimen who came in a 10 lb. bag of carrots. She apparently witnessed a few of her compatriots being peeled and eaten raw and wanted to let us know her brothers and sisters from The Gardens are accepting of their lot, but do want us to know a few important facts:

  1. They are happy to lay down their lives to feed us, but they need our awareness brought to their sacrifice.
  2. It is not OK to assume they don’t have feelings.
  3. It is not OK to dismissively deride humans who have had traumatic injuries or illnesses that leave them incapable of conscious response as ‘vegetables.’ This dishonors all Beings.
  4. We, as humans, need to know that we are not, in fact, ‘all that.’ Indeed, the only reason the Kingdom of Vegetable is permitting us access to their emissary is because she clearly has ascended to the ‘next level’ (witness her clear and shockingly obvious 3rd eye activation, which actually looks like it needs medical attention).
  5. The Emissary is a Team Player and is working directly with us to raise the overall vibrational frequency of the planet.
  6. Finally, the Kingdom of Vegetable is tired of all the attention going to ‘the four legged, many legged, winged ones, furred ones, and finned ones.’ They want that same attention paid to them, and they are willing to earn it.

Rules of Engagement to Be Discussed

I’m going to be sitting in council with Her Honor to see if we can come to a mutually agreeable method of communication and understanding. The citizens of the Kingdom of Vegetable seek to be awarded messenger status.

I have to admit, I was startled when I pulled her out of the bag, reached for my peeler, and met her face to face. Obviously, she was startled too.

This is what happens when you write 140 blog posts in a row. You start talking to carrots. Erm, I’m sorry: I meant Emissaries of the Kingdom of Vegetable.

 

I.M. Carrot, Emissary: Kingdom of Vegetable**;  Official Photographer: L.Weikel

(T-971)  **This will certify that these are unadulterated and completely accurate photographs of the Emissary’s appearance ‘straight out of the bag,’ as it were.