choice

Perception – Day 658

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Karl’s Magic Ball – Photo: L. Weikel

Perception

After one of my posts last week, a number of people suggested that I take a ‘news fast’ or otherwise not pay attention to what’s going on in the world, and in particular our country, at the moment. There are a number of rabbit holes I could go down in response. But for now, I want to focus on choosing a card for all of us to contemplate as we enter the first week ‘post-convention.’ Knowing things will only escalate exponentially (why would things change now?) as we start the final countdown to the election, I asked for a guiding concept for us to focus upon this week. The card I chose: Perception.

I’ve chosen and posted cards from this deck before. It’s the Mystic Art Medicine Oracle Cards/Tools for Transformation deck by Cher Lyn.

The imagery on this card feels particularly appropriate for the times we’re experiencing, especially the inclusion of the White Buffalo, which has been a fundamental aspect of prophecy for native North Americans for millennia. I hope you’ll take a moment to really zoom in on the details of Cher Lyn’s artwork and allow it to speak to you.

Here are the words she shared with this card:

Perception – “Blue Star Pe’Tanka”

The Star people watch, a new cycle birth

White Buffalo appears …good ways return to Earth.

Anticipate this Creation, it’s shifting,

All illusions, the veil is thinning and lifting.    

– Cher Lyn

“In the painting “Blue Star Pe’Tanka,” you see the spirit of a White Buffalo in gestation readying to birth abundance into the new world. She floats in the cosmos of non-linear time and space. The white owl flies in and brushes her wing through the symbol of creation to spin the wheel round again in a forward motion. The void is the cosmic eye of the buffalo, a portal into other worlds of untapped potential and adventure.

All humans see differently. You see one thing and someone right next to you can see something completely different. Everyone sees through his or her own eyes their own personal movie. See the diamond facet of yourself that is clear vision. It is here you find the Perception of the Divine…all of us has it. Sometimes it’s just covered up with dust, or emotional misinformation, attachments, or unconscious motives.

An ordinary mirror simply reflects back what it has been shown, but the mirror to your soul has a far more transformative multifaceted viewpoint with infinite potential. As you continue to heal, forgive, accept and love yourself you gain wisdom and can release the “you, who is not you.” You break through the conditionings and the dust of your illusions.

The appearances and experiences in your world are your personal mirrors of your creation. Every simple thought you have, every moment of appreciation or angry projected expression, every breath you take or scream you make, any kindness you give, and every moment of joy alters the world in some way and creates a future scene in the movie of your life.

With the Perception medicine card comes informational codes, which provide opportunity for clear vision. In your meditation allow for the intelligence of this concept, clear Perception, to reflect onto all the facets in the diamond of your life lens, projecting conscious truth and light into your personal movie called life.”

My Take

The sense I get from this card is that it would be fruitful for us to reflect upon what might be coloring our perceptions of the events that unfold this week. How might our past experiences be shading or influencing how we process the information we’re hearing and seeing projected to us now.

Is there a way for each of us – in any given moment – to consciously rise above the emotional charge of whatever it is we’re being told or shown and See things from a higher perspective? Perhaps now more than ever we’re being called to be vigilant over the use of our creative abilities: the immense power that is inherent in our thoughts, words, and deeds.

Ultimately, we’re all living in our own unique bubbles of perception. But we are also combining our perceptions to create our shared reality. First and foremost, each of us must take responsibility for our own unique thoughts, words, actions and, perhaps even more importantly, our choices of how we want to perceive the world.

Things are gestating. Change is coming. In the midst of the chaos maybe we can “mind our perception” and each do our best to perceive within the chaos the seeds of a new world that’s just, compassionate, and based on love and mutual respect.

It behooves us to pay attention to our perception.

(T-453)

Deep Thrum – Day 217

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Tohickon Creek – Photo: L. Weikel

Deep Thrum – Old Fashioned Cool

I’m sitting here on my couch, alone in my living room. The front door is open, and that usually means I can hear the nighttime sounds of ‘outside,’ which for the most part at this time of the year consists of bullfrogs. In a month or two, crickets and katydids will join the boisterous, gravel-voiced amphibian chorus. But for a split minute, there are no bullfrogs, no sounds at all filtering through the mesh-screen door that separates me from the wilds of the darkness outside.

Even Sheila is failing to provide her usual contribution of deeply resonant snoring.

As many of you who’ve been reading my posts for a while know, I savor silence. Every single time I give myself the opportunity to bask in it, I’m better for it.

And so it was a surprise when I closed my eyes and just sat for a few moments, pondering what I would write about tonight, that I recognized a comforting, lulling sound far in the background of my consciousness. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a real sound alright. But it is such a deep part of me and what makes me feel ‘at home’ that I rarely think about it consciously.

Deep Thrum of a Different Silence

I’m speaking of the comforting deep thrum of our whole house fan. This contraption, comprised of a small motor, a belt and a couple pulleys that turn the blades of the fan, and a slatted vent that opens in the ceiling of the hallway of our second floor, sucks air into the house from outside through our screened windows and doors. It pulls the air in from outside, creating a cool breeze, and circulates that air right up into our attic.

Most of the time, except when the weather is extremely muggy or relentlessly hot (such that it barely cools off at night at all outside), our whole house fan is a wonderful way to keep us cool. We have a couple room air conditioners perched in a smattering of rooms throughout the house, but we try to minimize our use of them.

Part of our desire to rely primarily on our whole house fan is environmental. It uses a lot less electricity. And it also just feels more natural, less of a subtle stress on our constitutions by jerking our bodies from cold to hot, muggy to dry.

It’s the Memories

Trust me, though, this is not a crusade. It’s not some holier-than-thou passive aggressive attempt to shame others who use air conditioning as soon as it gets a little warm or elevate myself because I don’t. Not in the least. I’m simply realizing that I love the whole house fan because of the memories, not least being the aforementioned deep thrum.

Yes.

I grew up in a stone farmhouse that was built in 1770. For a long time in my childhood, I remember the only means of staying cool in our home was via our whole house fan. That fan, too, was mounted in the hallway ceiling of the second floor of our home and sucked all the air up into the attic. It was situated right outside my bedroom, so I grew up with that deep thrum front and center in my consciousness.

Nearly every summer night I’d be told to ‘run upstairs and put the fan on,’ and it was always sweet relief to feel the coolness of the evening cascading into our rooms and throughout the house as soon as I turned it on. Not only did I fall asleep to its rhythm, I also realized I couldn’t hear anything from downstairs (like the tv or my parents having a conversation). This could feel disconcerting. I could either be afraid something would happen to them and I wouldn’t hear it, or I could let myself feel wrapped in a cocoon of cool, quiet thrum.

Always a Choice: Fear – or Surrender and Trust

I remember consciously making that choice a bunch of times. Was I going to give in to that fear? Or was I going to surrender to the comfort of the deep thrum.

I think I was in high school before my parents bought the first couple of window air conditioners for the house. One in the kitchen and one in their bedroom were the first to arrive. Eventually one in the ‘den’ where we would watch tv. But my parents still used ‘the fan’ most of the time. Just like we do now.

It’s a peculiar comfort, I suppose. And yet installing our whole house fan was one of the very first things Karl and I did when we bought our home (which is also old – not 1770 old – but more like 1840 old). Installing central air has never even crossed our minds.

All of which brings me back to an awareness of what I sense at this very moment. I hear (and feel in my very bones) the deep thrum. The thrum that’s both a visceral reminder of my childhood and a present-day comfort, calling me to come to bed so I may savor the stream of night air being drawn in to dance across our summer sheets and keep us cool.

Good night; sleep well. And don’t forget to whisper your sweet dreams to the full moon tomorrow night.

(T-894)

Silence – Day Six (T-1105)

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Silence

When was the last time you spent some time in a place where there was no internet connection? And beyond that, no cell service whatsoever?

Karl and I are sitting before a glowing fire that’s alternately snapping and crackling then spitting and hissing as snowmelt drips down from the top of the chimney. We’re in the main room of a cabin on the bank of the Tohickon Creek. The rushing intensity of the water’s flow as it courses like roiling magma toward the Delaware from right to left just yards off the cabin’s porch is drowned out by the monotonous intensity of a cataract cascading down the rocky boulders of the cliffs across from us.

The creek is at the crest of its banks, filled to the brim from the more than half foot of snow that snuck up on our region only two days ago.

Lack of Choice Brings Liberation? Sometimes…

Darkness has descended upon the forest and when we open the wooden door to fetch more logs, the voice of the creek fills our ears, sounding as if it might carry the cabin itself into the river, as recently chilled air pushes past us to ripen at the fire.

We’re literally only five minutes from our home, but the isolation from electronics is incredibly liberating. And part of that liberation is in our lack of choice. We don’t have to “think” about it one way or another. We don’t have to exercise discipline to resist clicking to check on the latest state of our world; we don’t have to choose to put our devices on airplane mode. We can just be.

It’s an odd feeling, especially for me. I’ve been vacillating for weeks, knowing I’d rented this cabin for the weekend and earnestly wanting to share it with my friends and family, possibly even clients or readers of my Hoot Alerts, who might yearn for an impromptu Listening Retreat. I kept asking Spirit: “Should I offer another retreat? Should I gather my Ayllu*?”

Permission to Just BE

And it never felt quite right to do so. So I didn’t.

It feels a little selfish of me not to share this beauty. This isolation. This opportunity to just be. But I know, intellectually, that we need to take time for ourselves. Maybe we need to be a little bit selfish sometimes, in the sense that we put our need for silence first, ahead, even, of the amazing joy it gives me each and every time I lead a Listening Retreat or Ayllu Gathering.

And that’s where I am as I write this. The meeting of my head and my heart; the place where I allow myself to take a step back from listening to others and give myself permission to listen to the silence.

I am grateful.

—-

*Ayllu is a Quechua word for a band or group of people who share a common lineage or set of teachings and experiences, a concept similar to a “tribe.”