Winter Solstice 2017 “I AM Symposium”

Hi!

Welcome back to The Hoot.

First up, I’m excited to announce that I was once again invited by my good friend, Renee Baribeau, to participate in another I AM Symposium – this year’s “Winter Solstice Gathering 2017.”

Join me, along with 24 other wisdom-keepers, at a virtual fire where we will share a plethora of unique ideas on life, creativity, passion, intuition, ceremony, spirituality, Nature, and other perspectives and strategies that will not only take us through the darkness of the shortest days of the year but will lead us into 2018 with the “wind at our backs.”

Speaking of winds…

I’m beyond excited to announce the imminent publication, by Hay House, Inc., of Renee’s groundbreaking new book, Winds of Spirit. (Available for pre-order now.) 

Renee has extensively researched humanity’s relationship with the “breath of life,” and has compiled a comprehensive pantheon of Wind-Spirits from all over the world, providing us with long-forgotten historical and mythological references and background. These Beings are boldly stepping forward to be of service to all of us in navigating our lives, and Renee has proved to be a faithful and relentlessly disciplined scribe for their messages.

My message, as usual, is the value of cultivating our ability to truly LISTEN – to ourselves, to each other, to Mother Nature, to unseen guidance, to our SOULS.  My particular talk will be airing on Saturday, December 23rd at 1:00 p.m. EST. Register here and you’ll receive a link in your mailbox every morning.

Indeed, as Spirit always seems to challenge me to “walk my talk,” (and listen to my guidance) I’ve now added an Events page to my website where you can find a description of my Listening Retreats and a schedule of retreat weekends I’m offering in 2018.

If none of these are a good fit for you, check back in January (and periodically after that!) to see if I’ve added more weekends, probably at other venues.

The reason I’m now advertising my Listening Retreats on my website is because I’m getting the message from so many sources that learning and actively practicing what I call Sacred Listening has the potential to be a tremendously healing tool for ourselves, our families and friends, and our world.

I know, it sounds easy. Too easy, in fact, for it to actually make a difference in anyone’s life, much less “the world.” But I’ve seen and felt first-hand how rare it is for any of us to have the experience of Sacred Listening touch our lives.

So, once again, I invite you to join us “by the fire” for 16 days of the completely free Winter Solstice Gathering 2017 I AM Symposium, beginning this Thursday, December 21st, 2017 to LISTEN to nuggets of wisdom, tidbits of joy, snippets of insight, and seeds of inspiration from cool people who have lots to share.

Again, my particular talk will be airing on Saturday, December 23rd at 1:00 p.m. EST.

Most of the interviews are 30 minutes long, and most days feature the release of two speakers’ presentations, which you can listen to at any time during the day they’re released, as well as for two days thereafter. Give yourself the gift of an hour a day during this busy, yet begging-for-introspection time of year.

You’re worth it. And so are the messages you’ll hear!

Paradox

Sky

© Lisa Weikel

Entering the Abyss

Monday was the second anniversary of my eldest son’s death. (How many times did I type different words, euphemisms, cryptic or veiled references to this truth, only to just hit the backspace button and come back to writing it simply and to the point? Lots.)

Grieving is exhausting. To do it right, it takes a hell of a lot of stamina. And by "doing it right," I mean making an effort not to lose one’s self in the abyss. Allowing your heart, mind, and soul to fly into the crevasses, into the void that allows no light, but also pulling up when it feels like you’ll never take in another breath yourself, and allowing yourself to remember just why it is you mourn.

Creating Ceremony

I cannot even remember what we did last year to commemorate our loss. This year, 11/11 fell on a Monday, so Karl, Maximus, Sage and I were separated, at least physically, each carrying on in the physical world, as best as we could, as if this day were no different than any other.

Unbound as a result of having no appointments with clients, I am free to just be, to listen to Spirit’s guidance as to how best to honor my son. I retreat to the back of our property, behind our barn, where cattails and wild grasses dance in abundance and the carcasses of several dead Christmas trees mingle in a pile of toppled branches, yearning to burn.

Ceremonial Guardians – © Lisa Weikel

Opening my mesa, my ‘sacred bundle’ or ‘medicine bag,’ on the grass, I arrange the objects within it into a configuration that can hold me, not unlike the ceremony I performed on 11/11/11 – twelve hours before Karl drowned.

But before I sit within it, I create Sacred Space by calling in the Directions and the archetypal energies that reside in the North, East, South, West. I call in the spirit and essence of Mother Earth, as well as Father Sun, Grandmother Moon, our Brothers and Sisters of the Star Nations, and of course, the overarching energies of Mother/Father God, Goddess, All That Is.

It is while I am inviting in the energy of Mother Earth, my forehead connected to the ground through the center of my mesa, that I feel the welling from within. I feel Her presence coming up, or perhaps enveloping me is a better description. She is present. She is here. She embodies Mother energy, and She is oh-so-familiar to me, containing within her essence, the memory of my own mother – yet so much more vast.

The tears that yearn to express that bottomless sense of loss arise from my bowels, my womb, the bottom of my spine. Trickling at first, they soon pour from my eyes onto the sacred cloth before me. There are no words. In that moment, I am simply with The Mother. Held by her, comforted by her, knowing that She Knows.

Eventually, as my sobs subside, I talk to Her. "Why do I always cry when I connect with You? What is this? What does this Great Sorrow mean and why do I hold it so?" I’m mostly referring to the times when I have engaged in ceremonies in which my connection to her has been augmented by her plant children – though certainly not always, some of which I’ve written about. My connection to the Mother goes way back – and has always, always been accompanied by Sadness.

The Paradox

I lift my face from the cloth and look around. The honeybee that alighted on my hand when calling in the Directions has disappeared, but a yellow butterfly flits by, right in front of me, and nonchalantly lights upon a stalk of straw a few feet from where I kneel. Behind my left shoulder, a screech owl calls out two times – then is silent. It’s early afternoon…I’m definitely not alone.

Owl

© Karen Gallagher

In a realization that is beyond words and seems to arrive on the breeze, I understand that I carry this Sorrow – Her sorrow – precisely because I Know Joy. I Know Love. All at once, I feel as if I embody the paradox that resides in feeling the grief of losing a love that can never be lost.

It is both the ultimate burden and the ultimate privilege. I carry the pain because I live the joy.

I don’t like to "go there," but I’m committed to its necessity. I will not deny my pain. I will not deny the void that resides within my heart that will never be healed. Yet, I much prefer to focus upon what lies beneath the loss. And to get there, I have to go through it, through the pain; I must refuse the urge to turn away because it hurts too much and just go there. As often as it takes.

Because underneath it all, there is Love. And love, ultimately, is all there is. It’s what we want, what we fear, what we seek, what we’re terrified of losing, and what we would not exist without.

I saw this video this morning and saw in it a reflection of my experience on Monday afternoon. It made me realize that, yes, we must face our greatest fear – by loving fiercely. Every day. Knowing that it could end in the blink of an eye. And yet never, ever. Not truly.

Sunset

November sunset © Lisa Weikel