What an extraordinary evening of beauty and mystery.
As the full Wolf Moon rose above the treetops, her appearance almost felt like a surprise given the bank of clouds that initially partially obscured her ascent.
The owls were silent yet again this evening, mesmerized, perhaps, by the exquisite majesty of the beacon climbing the sky and illuminating their nests. The air was still. There were barely any cars on the road at first, none the final mile.
Full Wolf Moonrise – Photo: L. Weikel
An unnaturally warm front arrived late this afternoon, making our walk far easier than last night’s, especially on Sheila. She didn’t drag her dainty little puppy feet quite as much as she does when it’s freezing out and we’re just getting started. She’s frequently reluctant to get her old bones moving, even more so when it’s frigid out, but she always – always! – rallies to the cause and motors through either the two or the four mile trek with ease.
Tonight, even the pups seemed entranced by the moon. What was it about this particular full moon? I wish I could say.
She was particularly photogenic; I’ll give her that.
Unlike last night, she shone with crystal clarity; no gauzy obscurity tonight.
This last photo looks, to me, like either a bear or a dog – probably a Golden Retriever – holding the full moon in its mouth. Or if you think it looks like a Golden, that’s almost certainly a glowing, cosmic tennis ball being proffered for play.
Bear Swallows Full Wolf Moon – Photo: L. Weikel
I know I’ve been relentlessly urging a walk outside with eyes lifted to the heavens. I’m not going to stop bugging you now. There’s something powerful about knowing that no matter where we are on Mother Earth, we’re all looking up at the same moon. Perhaps at different times, but she’s always there for all of us – and she’s always a unifying force.
What do we discover when we allow the moonlight to pick the locks of our deepest secrets?
I hope you had a chance to ‘take in’ the full magnitude of the moon this evening. There was a different feeling in the air tonight compared to last night, at least from my perspective. Not only was the overall energy of the evening different, so was the color.
Tonight, the moon did not cast a blue hue over field and forest. Instead, the light reflecting off our powerful satellite was much more diffuse and seemed more akin to a net of pale peach gauze.
Much to my disappointment, even the owls were quiet this evening. Although we heard both screech and great horned owls a few days ago, all were silent on this night.
Lunar Eclipse
Was the silence a result of some naturally intuited awareness of the eclipse taking place this evening? How does the fact that the Earth is slipping precisely between the sun and the moon, blocking out the moon’s brilliance for a short but powerful time, impact the other sentient life here on our planet (if it does at all)?
I imagine it must give them pause. Perhaps not as profound a worrisome, “Wtf?” as a total solar eclipse might yield, but at least a blip of awareness and perhaps a fleeting sense of concern.
For my part, I hate to say it, but I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Everything just seems so tenuous.
So I’m compelled to reinforce my Call to Arms: Please, let’s all hold our centers. Let’s all take a moment, find our place of peace within, and…hold it.
What is that gauzy light revealing to you about yourself?
Karl and I took a walk this evening. I realize this is not, in itself, “BREAKING NEWS,” especially since we’ve managed a walk every single day that it hasn’t rained so far this year. It’s a solid start to the decade.
Anyway, it was around 6:30 p.m. when we made it out the door tonight, so darkness was ‘full-on.’
Let me be clear: tonight was one of those nights when we just barely made it out the door. Neither one of us was inclined to brave the cold, probably because it’s been so mild up to this point. Hearing the wind pick up and blow the front door open made it seem even colder than it was.
Indeed, I think we were each hoping the other would just boldly back out or at the very least express a sincere, compelling, and justifiable desire to remain home.
Alas, whining about how cold we were before we’d even gone outside failed to meet that threshold. Whining that we were sore, or just plain tired and cranky didn’t work either. Whining, while routinely attempted, rarely if ever wins the day in this household.
We did, however, cut Sheila some slack. We allowed her to remain asleep, snuggled in her blankets, snoring rhythmically. She’s been under the weather recently. She’s on antibiotics for what seems like a low-grade infection in a couple of places. But she’s also experiencing some other age-related issues, and we don’t want to stress her.
She may drag her heels when we start out on a walk, but regardless of whether we go two or four miles, once she’s warmed to the idea, she’s all in. (Spartacus, on the other hand, is always game.)
Blue Light
As soon as we started walking up the road this evening, we were enchanted. The moon was rising, and had climbed to about a third of the way up into the sky. Puffy clouds were in the sky, and the moon’s reflection was so distinctly brilliant, it bounced off the clouds and it almost looked like a very overcast day.
Yet everything was tinged in a distinctly blue light. For the most part, the sky was astonishingly clear (especially given how cloudy it had been late this afternoon when snow squalls threatened), which only made the distinct ease of viewing the cumulus clouds even more stunning.
All the way around (yes, we only did the ‘walk-around’ of 2.2 miles), we kept marveling at the brightness illuminating the fields, filtering through the leafless branches of the woods, and the blue tinge to absolutely everything.
Is It Cheating?
We walked a long chunk of the distance in silence. Discussing politics, especially recent events, felt like we were fouling the environment. Talk of work was far too mundane to bring out into the blue light.
Was it cheating to deliberately wait until we stood a good chance of hearing the Great Horned Owls and the Screech Owls we’d heard a few nights ago, calling to each other across the ravine slashed into the earth by the Tohickon?
Who cares? We both needed a restorative dose of Mother Earth. And I have to tell you: it was more than worth the effort to bundle up!
If you have a chance, take in that stunning moon that’s so very close to fullness. Look at the world through cornflower blue lenses. I guarantee you won’t regret it.
If we can learn anything from this president, perhaps it is the pricelessness of one’s word.
In many ways, in spite of all the awful things I see emanating from this Administration, it’s the utter disregard for the most basic values and principles we try to teach our children from their earliest days that most upsets me.
I realize I’m not saying anything new. For instance, every one of you, I’m sure, is intimately familiar with the concept and value of telling the truth. It’s not even necessarily in the act of having the integrity and, indeed, telling the truth that most of the value is derived. No, the real value comes from the trust your pattern, your habit, of telling the truth engenders in those around you.
Trust. It is, quite simply, something that cannot be bought.
And if we’re not in the habit of telling the truth, we may realize – too late – that we desperately need the trust that comes from telling the truth at a time or place in history when or where nothing can be done to regain what has been squandered.
A pattern of telling lies can easily come back to haunt anyone – but most particularly someone who depends upon the good will and trust of others. And sad to say, I believe our president has erroneously believed that he can rule (or perhaps more accurately ‘overrule’) everything simply by the power of his “say so.”
Trust. Integrity. Truth.
I yearn for the days when our word was our bond. I yearn for the days when people didn’t even consider lying as an option to get out of anything – particularly people operating at the highest levels of our government and serving as role models for our children, our culture, and the world.
Sometimes my idealism causes me a lot of pain.
But what do we do when someone has betrayed our trust time and time again? How do we deal with that person any further? How do we move forward with any modicum of trust? Is it trust but verify (our own president)? How do we even do that when there is such a blatant disregard for us and our right to know the truth?
That’s something we’re all having to face right now.
Here’s hoping when we wake tomorrow there’s been a de-escalation. Here’s hoping we all start to see and appreciate the value of telling the truth. And hold people accountable when they do not.
Am I the only one, or are any of you finding yourselves in mid thought suddenly thinking, “Wait. What day is it today? I mean, what month is it?”
Life is coming at us so intensely, and situations are changing so rapidly, that the analogy of trying to digest each day’s events being akin to drinking water out of a fire hose is not hyperbolic. It’s our reality.
Reality Check
Reality check? It’s been 19 days since the House of Representatives voted to impeach the president. Not even three weeks have gone by.
And what do we have to show for it? A situation in the Middle East that has incited hundreds of thousands of Iranians to rally in stunningly powerful demonstrations of grief, outrage, unity, and determination in cities throughout their country (and elsewhere). This is not a situation easily (or wisely) downplayed, dismissed, or ignored. And yet…will any of us be surprised if yet another completely separate, yet stunning, revelation is revealed tomorrow?
Taking our ‘walkabout’ route tonight (the 4 mile path), Karl and had a weird moment of conversation when we spontaneously found it hard to recall what month we’re in. The weather today and this evening was peaceful and mild – not necessarily what’s expected in early January. And the schism in time appreciation was exacerbated by the actual holiday days having occurred on Wednesday last week (and the week before), creating an odd if welcome sense of never ending impending weekends.
Indeed, it feels like there’s been a sort of time warpish confusion of days, months, and even seasons since, well, since the solstice occurred on Saturday, the 21stof December.
It’s All Energy
I was taught over thirty years ago that the vibration of the planet (and hence all of us, as well) experiences an uptick at each solstice and equinox. The beginning of each quarter of Mother Earth’s journey around the sun is a seminal, predictable moment of acceleration in our evolution; a quickening, of sorts.
And as our energies speed up, things necessarily change. Those aspects of our lives that cannot hold the increase in our vibration spin off. There’s both evolution and devolution. It’s not as if we all increase at the same rate. And it’s not as if all can sustain the increase to their vibrational reality. I don’t profess to know why every creature and being’s experience is different.
But it is fascinating to observe what’s going on around us with at least some sense of awareness that this seasonal energetic shift could be playing a part in both our collective and personal experiences.
And then there are the planetary aspects to consider as well.
It’s a lot. We are undergoing huge shifts of tectonic magnitude to our perceived realities.
But we’re in it together. Keep holding your center; holding space for ourselves and each other.
Sometimes I’m a master at this. And you know what? Sometimes it just has to be done.
The ‘obvious’ that I feel needs to be stated at the moment is that this is going to be one hell of an intense week.
Right out of the gate, we know this will be no ordinary week (and let’s face it, how many of them have we honestly experienced since January 20th, 2017?) because of the horrifying manner in which global tensions are being insanely and irresponsibly ratcheted up on a daily basis. By tweet, no less.
It’s stunning.
Another reason, a corollary to the first, naturally – since so much of our global, national, local, and personal stress is triggered in one way or another by the rash acts emanating from the White House – is that for every threat tweeted out against others, particularly toward those who were rashly and yet deliberately provoked by an assassination of one of their own, another cadre of self-proclaimed avengers is born.
And who will reap the fallout from that vengeance being sought? Almost certainly men, women, and children who do not see it coming. Oh, they may feel it vaguely raising the hackles on their skin when they read about another tweet or hear of yet another taunt or belligerent beating of a national chest. But quite honestly, save for the 9/11 attacks, there’s a profound belief, deep in the core of most Americans’ psyche, that we’re inviolable. That stuff won’t – can’t – happen here.
Photo: runnersworld.com
Our Bubble is Exposed
Given the taunts and threats of 52 sites of strategic or cultural importance being in the crosshairs of our military, I have to ask: Can anyone reading that not imagine how it would feel to have that same threat levied against us? Can anyone reading about anything that’s going on right now not use simple common sense and imagine the rage that we would feel if the bully slapped us like that?
How would we feel if we witnessed the bully slap someone else – perhaps a friend?
How would we feel if we witnessed that very same bully sucker punch a kid who wasn’t exactly our friend? Maybe even someone we whom we also feared – but not as much, since he’s smaller and perhaps a bit more wily (because he has to be clever to make up for his smaller build)?
We’d probably watch in horror and hope we wouldn’t get hit by a stray fist. Or worse.
Recap
To recap why I stated the obvious premise at the start of this post:
1. We have mad, provocative tweeting (and bombs); 2. We are creating new avengers daily, including people who may simply have been observers…before; and 3. We have a full moon and eclipse happening on Friday, plus a slew of planetary aspects that were daunting enough for us to face before the hasty and ill-advised events of the past couple of days.
More on the planetary aspects tomorrow, perhaps.
In the meantime, we must hold those centers. Keep peace in each of our own hearts and homes. It’s what we must do.
It was suggested by one of you (my wonderful readers) that we need to affirmatively do something – ideally shamanic – in order to be of assistance in the midst of all of the turmoil we’re witnessing unfold here and around the world. The question was asked what we could do collectively to help the situation(s).
I responded by saying I would ask. That meant, I will ask Spirit, my guides, guardians, allies…those unseen Beings/energies who work with me to be of service in the ways asked of me.
I did not get a chance to formally do that asking today, although I felt like I was being given hints as the day unfolded. Sometimes that happens. There have been times when I will state something affirmatively, such as an intention to say or do something on behalf of another, and it’s as if I open the floodgates.
Asking and Listening
I’ve learned that when I either ask a question or affirmatively ask for guidance or a message – particularly if I do so out loud – the act of stating the intention is sometimes more than enough to get the ball rolling. In other words, I’ve learned that I need to open my eyes and start paying attention (i.e., listening) as soon as I’ve asked.
Which leads me to reflect on the sense I received as the day unfolded.
Interestingly, someone specifically kept popping into my head for no apparent reason. It was the person I’ve written about before, who asked for me to come visit them in the critical care unit at a local hospital after having an aneurysm. It might be recalled that they ended up asking me to place a buffer into their auric field to protect them from the onslaught of presumably well-meaning but exhausting, and in some cases conflicting, energies being ‘sent’ to them by friends, family, and even people who didn’t know them at all.
I’ll admit that experience made a dramatic impression upon me.
Our Inclination to Do
Perhaps it’s our nature as humans. Or maybe it’s the type of people I hang out with or who resonate with me and my energy and approach to the world. Whatever it is, I do seem to know and care about some extremely passionate and affirmative individuals who equate caring with action. We want to do something to make a situation better. We want to help; we want to help set things right.
Very often, with this sense of doing something to help comes the corollary to that: if we’re not taking action, then we’re passively (and weakly?) allowing bad things to happen. In other words, the sense that often accompanies our desire to do something is the fear that if we don’t, we will have aided and abetted awfulness by idly standing around doing nothing.
To be sure, some of this action anxiety is stoked by the exhortations we see floating around via meme or otherwise that entreat us to not stand idly by while injustice or cruelty is inflicted upon others. For those who did nothing, we’re told, were the worst of the lot.
The Power of Presence
And I guess that’s where consciousness and intention comes to play a huge part in all of this.
Very often we fear being perceived as doing nothing in the face of great tragedy. But if we know we are doing our part, does it really matter? Can we be secure enough within our own selves and our own knowledge of power and intention to feel just fine about how we are responding to the issues of the day?
I ask that because I feel as though my acquaintance/client popping into my head a couple times today was Spirit speaking to me as I stood at the sink doing my dishes, engaging in informal contemplation. Perhaps the greatest thing some of us can do to be of service in these times of disruption and chaos and tragedy is to hold space. (Ooh! I just realized as I typed those words that I believe I’ve written about this before – the power of ‘holding the center’- hmmm.) I’ll have to do a search.
Setting the Intention
The action we so deeply crave (again, as a result of our simply being human or because we have been raised to believe that action is the answer to everything) is setting the intention. It is holding space with intention. It is closing our eyes and simply opening our hearts to provide open-hearted love and compassion to go where it is needed.
Right now, there are a lot of groups sending various types of energy to situations (be they children in border internment camps – I can’t believe I even typed that just now – or doing this or that healing ritual for the fires in Australia) or addressing a myriad of other situations around the globe. And maybe there’s just a whole lot of conflicting energetic intention flying about.
Maybe what the world needs right now if for people who can hold their focus on maintaining steady, loving, compassionate courage and calm in the face of howling wildfires and insane, power hungry madmen is precisely what we need. These people may to all outward appearances look as though they are doing nothing, yet actually be providing the space for those in the direct line of fire (so to speak) to do their jobs clear-eyed and from their centers – free of being bombarded of other people’s potentially conflicting beliefs about what needs to be thought, said, or done.
Tohickon Creek – Photo: L. Weikel
Holding Space – Together
In the spirit of the power of working together, though, I want to propose that it might be a great experiment of togetherness for those interested and reading this to join me and each other in holding that space of allowing courage and compassion to be felt by all who need it together.
I will continue listening to Spirit for further fleshing out. But this feels right. A practice of actively holding space and allowing courage, compassion, and space to be given to all sentient beings – humans, animal, plant, and elemental (including rain, wind, sun, earth, etc.) – feels like an answer.
If you, like me, arrived in 2020 only to discover you simply cannot tolerate watching or listening to another moment of ‘news,’ I have a great distraction to recommend: The Witcher.
The Witcher is a Netflix ‘original series’ based on a ‘cycle of tales’ by Polish fantasy writer Andrzej Sapowski.
We watched the first episode a couple of nights ago, then caught episode two a day or so later. I thought I liked it, but I wasn’t completely convinced – until tonight.
Just What I Needed
It’s entirely possible that timing is playing at least a partial role in my enthusiasm for, and inclination to immerse myself in, this series. But more than anything, I think, is the nature of the main character, Geralt. His attitude toward both life in general and the situations he finds himself in is both detached and at the same time exemplifies honor and compassion.
Best of all, I’m pleasantly surprised by the sense of humor occasionally interjected by the characters. It’s an unexpected delight to encounter sarcasm and humor in the midst of all the drama. And yeah, it feels like just what I need.
It’s All Too Much
It’s interesting to observe the relief I feel in immersing myself in an entertaining story. And that’s honestly the most fundamental sense I feel. Relief. And it’s not even relief from the actual reality of what is going on in the larger world, although that is part of it. It’s relief from having to listen to the lies.
We could see this coming a mile away. And yet, here it is. It happened. Apparently with impunity – and quite probably with high fives and puffed chests – as threats, taunts, and tough talk continue issuing forth. Which only leads me to wonder how long it will be before other tactics are used to manifest chaos and distraction.
Stories Are Important
All of which makes me realize with even greater appreciation just how important it is for us to be able to lose ourselves in stories. We can’t hold onto or keep track of the cruelties and the lies being disseminated 24/7. It’s getting to a point where we have to actively pick and choose when to immerse ourselves in the stickiness of the web of deliberate deceit being woven day in and day out.
I know. For many of you, that decision has already been made, and made long ago. I see the wisdom in not paying attention. I guess I’m trying to find the balance – and I have a sick sense in the pit of my stomach that what’s going on now is just a prelude to what we can expect the whole damn year. And that depresses me.
It’s taking everything I have not to write about the glaringly obvious and utterly predictable actions ordered by our president this evening. I’m almost afraid to go to bed for fear of what will be ‘breaking news’ when I awaken – except I refuse to be made afraid by him or anyone else. No matter what, I do not want to succumb to fear.
It’s just that there’s no space anymore. There’s no quiet; no peace. There’s not even 24 hours to enjoy the silence of the lamb that arrived just yesterday.
Wait – what?
Well that’s just a creepy turn of phrase that I didn’t intend.
A Little Tree Magic
So I’m changing the subject.
This afternoon I was looking up into the cloud-littered sky marveling at the beauty right over our heads. I realized in that moment the unique hole that had formed in a dried chunk of one of the maple trees guarding the doorway to our home. It’s a crescent moon.
A tree moon.
As I head to bed this evening, I’m going to keep the image of this blue crescent moon in my thoughts. I’m going to remember the sheer wonder of ‘little things’ such as the random creation of a cutout moon by bark that’s many decades old.
I’m going to trust that eventually we’re going to decide, as a species, that we’d rather focus on the random beauty and magic of life than who wields the biggest…stick.
This may be the year we reach the point where we decide “no more.”
I know today wasn’t the first day of Spring, so the whole ‘in like a lamb’ title to this post might appear premature. But the weather really was quite mild for January 1st.
We rarely venture out over the holidays. But the allure of the mild temperatures and the promise of fulfilling yet another long-standing tradition of a New Year’s Day bookstore run proved irresistible. The added prospect of combining this tradition with our delight in sharing the lights of Peddler’s Village every year provided enough reasons to drag ourselves out of the house.
I’ll give it to Peddler’s Village: the lights did not disappoint. Nor did the Lahaska Bookstore. I revel in the joy browsing in a good bookstore brings to my heart.
The photo of this tree in the heart of Peddler’s Village doesn’t do it justice. But I’m sharing it nonetheless.
I’m also going to tell you what book I selected for myself and refrain from commentary.
