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In the Blink of an Eye – Day 476

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Cloud sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

In the Blink of an Eye

A couple things came to my attention today that drive home the adage that ‘everything can change in the blink of an eye.’

Not that I’m unfamiliar with the floor of my world dropping out from under me. But the feeling that accompanies drastic change in our lives (usually on the ‘awful’ end of the spectrum), is rarely something we want to repeat or actively seek.

One occurrence that shook me was seeing a friend of the family post on FB that their home was lost in a fire this morning. A home in which two girls spent their entire lives growing up – charred beyond measure. Treasured and irreplaceable family heirlooms – up in smoke. Worse yet? Family pets. All but one (a cat receiving medical treatment tonight) presumed or confirmed dead.

Loss

This family has been on my mind all day. I sit in my home of 35 years, surrounded by my beloved pups and kits, and my heart can only flirt with the sorrow and horror I’d feel to lose so much in such a ravaging manner.

And while I absolutely value the preciousness of all life and am grateful human lives were spared, I imagine the loss of photos and journals, and a myriad of other utterly unique, tangible items that were artifacts of lives lived by their ancestors leave a terribly raw and open wound in their hearts. It’s precisely the irreplaceable nature of these items that make their loss tragic.

The loss is stark. Only memories remain. And these realizations of impermanence are harsh.

The Little Things

I imagine that shock has probably overcome the family by now. A certain numbness to the magnitude of loss takes over so we don’t implode on ourselves.

The big stuff, in many ways, is probably most easily replaceable. It may not be Grandma’s four poster bed, but a beautiful bedroom set can be acquired. Same with many other ‘things’ we surround ourselves with in our homes.

No, the excruciating pain will probably come in the form of a daily drip of realizing all the little things that have been lost. Stuff we all take for granted. Little things that are so ingrained as a part of our daily lives that it’s not until we reflexively look for them or think, “That must be in the attic…” that we realize yet again what’s gone.

And the worst part may be that intangible loss: that feeling of being swept out of that home and off that land – no matter how large or small the plot of earth that stood beneath their house. That sense of possibly never sleeping there again, the impact of realizing they may never look out windows onto the familiar trees or grass or skyline they’ve lived with and gazed upon for decades, will only gradually dawn on them.

When others experience horrific tragedies, it’s only human to empathize and reflect upon how we would feel if thrust into the same circumstances.

In the blink of an eye, everything can change for any of us. It is cliché, perhaps, to suggest that we look around and appreciate our lives and circumstances. But nevertheless, it behooves us to do it. Take a moment. Look around you. Appreciate your many blessings.

And send compassion and courage to those who, in the blink of an eye, have lost so much.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-635)

Ice and Fire – Day 401

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Icy berries – Photo: L. Weikel

Ice and Fire  

The accuracy of the weather forecasts so far this season has not been impressive. I realize meteorology is an imprecise science, given the whims and vagaries of the elements, but I really thought the field had its act together better than this.

We awakened this morning to a lovely coating of ice on practically everything living: trees, plants, grasses. Not so much coating on inanimate objects, though. And the roads were, luckily, a piece of cake.

There is a crystalline beauty to ice storms, though. And it’s much easier to appreciate that beauty if you are lucky enough not to lose boughs off your trees or electricity due to downed wires. I’m grateful to report that we lost neither limb nor light.

Nevertheless, It Persisted

I was surprised that the coating of ice on all the branches didn’t melt as the day wore on. In fact, even though the temperature hovered right around 33, I actually think some of the coatings grew thicker. In spite of expectations of yielding and bending to thermodynamic facts, the ice nevertheless persisted. All day – and into tonight.

Fire In the Belly

And in spite of the cold and raw temperatures that dominated the day, several hundred people gathered outside Congressman Brian Fitzpatrick’s (R-PA 01) home office to demand that he represent the will of his constituents and vote yes in tomorrow’s impeachment vote in the House of Representatives.

I have to admit, I’m actually starting to feel like an old hand at this protesting stuff. For each cause I’ve been moved to show up for and speak out about (climate change, women’s rights, immigration reform – particularly the separation and caging of families and children – and now impeachment, among others), I’ve found my fellow protestors to be kind, polite, peaceful, yet passionate – with a fire in their belly for what they believe is right and just for all.

The only one of my photos I could upload. (The others will arrive tomorrow via email from my phone to my laptop.) Thanks, VZ wireless. Photo: L. Weikel

A Sense of Melancholy

Perhaps it was the ice. Perhaps it was the rain. Perhaps it was the effect of both working to dampen the fire in everyone’s belly. While there absolutely was a sense of determination in this crowd, a resolute insistence that no one is above the law, the evening felt tempered by a sense of melancholy.

For all the hundreds of people there demanding the president be held accountable for his transgressions, there was a pocket of about 30 of those who feel he is an example of everything that’s right with the world.

What I noticed was their meanness.

A large white diesel pickup truck with the barest excuse for a muffler rode slowly among the rows of parked cars behind the crowd revving its engine. Over and over. Just revving its diesel engine, spewing fumes as it crawled from one row to another, quite obviously on a mission not to park, but to distract and annoy. We made a point of moving deeper into the plaza.

So it was ironic that 45 minutes later, the driver of that same vehicle took notice of us as we were leaving. Just as we were unlocking our car, I heard the familiar revving again. I glanced toward the truck, as it once again started revving its engine as it waited in line to exit the parking lot. The driver, a young man probably in his mid to late 20s, had his window down and his left arm hanging out the window and down the door of the truck’s cab. Picking up on my glance, he looked over at me with a grimace and quite distinctly called me a “fucking whore.”

Really?

He followed it up with a taunt that I should enjoy driving home in my “piece of shit Prius,” then revved his engine again, apparently for emphasis.

Wow. I’d only glanced in his direction precisely because he kept revving his engine. He’d been looking for attention. And when he received it, when I made eye contact, he used the opportunity to hurl an ugly heap of nasty on me.

That’s when the melancholy hit me hardest. I looked at Karl, who I could tell wanted to respond but was actively choosing not to engage, and felt a wave of despair. Talk like that, antagonism toward us as someone ‘other’ than their own family and friends, is disheartening.

Here we are, speaking up and taking a stand for this kid to live in a country where the elite do not have more or better rights than he does. And here he is, taking the part of those who would exploit him at the drop of a hat. Buying the lies that the powerful use to divide us.

I don’t know how to heal the wounds if we can’t even agree on a shared reality anymore.

 

(T-710)

Year of the Boar – Day Eighty Four

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Photo: livescience.com

Year of the Boar

Happy New Year! Happy Year of the Boar (Year of the Pig)! Technically, we’re not moving from the Year of the Dog until tomorrow (Monday, February 4th, 2019), but since most of you don’t read my posts until the morning after I publish them, I’m just paving the way for you to hit this new year running and give you the chance to celebrate all day.

Of course, I’m speaking of the Chinese New Year. And since the Chinese calendar is based on lunar cycles, the new year begins tomorrow at 4:04 p.m. EST, the time of the new moon.

You might wonder why I’m so excited to wish you these porcine-centered felicitations. A big reason might be that I am a Boar, having been born between February 8, 1959 and January 27, 1960.

And to make this year’s Year of the Pig even more ‘special’ for me (and those born in that same time span I just mentioned), since the Chinese Lunar Calendar is based on the number 60, this year signifies a full turning of the astrological cycle since we were born. This will be a year of completion or ‘coming full circle’ for those of us born between the dates listed above.

Twelve Signs of the Chinese Zodiac

Just as you’re aware of the twelve signs that comprise our western zodiac, which begins with Aries and ends with Pisces, there are twelve signs in the Chinese Zodiac as well. The western zodiac signs change every 30 days or so, though, giving us twelve signs within each calendar year.

The Chinese system assigns a single symbol to an entire year, with the Year of the Rat, for instance, being considered the ‘first’ sign of the zodiac, and the Boar the last. However, each ‘year’ begins and ends on a different date according to the moon’s cycle in January/February of each year. Specifically, each new year in the Chinese system begins at the occurrence of the first new moon following the first full moon in a calendar year.

The signs, with the year in which each ‘mainly’ appears, are as follows:

Rat                  1924    1936    1948    1960    1972    1984    1996    2008    2020

Ox                   1925    1937    1949    1961    1973    1985    1997    2009    2021

Tiger                1926    1938    1950    1962    1974    1986    1998    2010    2022

Rabbit             1927    1939    1951    1963    1975    1987    1999    2011    2023

Drago             1928    1940    1952    1964    1976    1988    2000    2012    2023

Snake             1929    1941    1953    1965    1977    1989    2001    2013    2024

Horse              1930    1942    1954    1966    1978    1990    2002    2014    2025

Sheep             1931    1943    1955    1967    1979    1991    2003    2015    2026

Monkey           1932    1944    1956    1968    1980    1992    2004    2016    2027

Rooster           1933    1945    1957    1969    1981    1993    2005    2017    2028

Dog                 1934    1946    1958    1970    1982    1995    2007    2018    2029

Boar                1935    1947    1959    1971    1983    1996    2008    2019    2030

Obviously, if your birthdate falls toward the end of January or through about mid-February, you’ll need to check the specific dates for when each cycle began and ended in the year you were born. (I’m sure you can google it; but I’d be happy to post the specific dates for anyone who requests.)

The Five Variations of Each Symbol

Every twelve years, the cycle repeats. It’s important to remember, though, that the larger cycle recognized in this system is the 60 year cycle.

Thus, each symbol is repeated five times within those sixty years. And each of those five variations on the theme corresponds to an element:  Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water.

Every 12 years, then, a different variation of the particular sign occurs, with the cycle repeating itself for the first time after 60 years have elapsed.

It’s quite intriguing to read about the variations in characteristics of the different signs as they are manifested every twelve years. You can just imagine the differences between, say, a Fire Rooster, a Metal Rooster, and a Water Rooster. (I use that as an illustration because I happen to have lived with these ‘variations’ for much of my life: specifically, my husband and two of my three sons.) (Which is also why I decorated our downstairs bathroom in fall colors, filled it with many roosters, and dubbed it our ‘cock room.’)

And with that image fixed firmly in your minds (a ‘cock room’ – you just know that’ll stick with you!), I am going to complete this post. I’ll write a bit more about the Year of the Boar tomorrow, and describe a bit more of the elemental attributes distinguishing the variations that occur every twelve years.

The point of all of this is that there are so very many ways we humans have developed, across cultures and across time, to help ourselves understand and make sense of who we are and what we’re here to experience. There are maps for us all over the place. We just need to look around and find the ones that work uniquely for us – and then dive into a deeper understanding of their keys.

Happy New Year!

(T-1027)

Photo by L. Weikel

Silence – Day Six (T-1105)

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 3 Comments

 

 

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.”