gratitude

Turtle – Day 453

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Turtle – Photo: L. Weikel

Turtle

Over the past five days, Turtle has shown up in my ‘picks’ for the day three times. Sixty percent of the time. Given that there are 56 cards from which to choose (four of those being blanks), it’s pretty obvious that Turtle was trying to bring me a message.

On those days, especially, I made a point of paying attention to my connection to Mother Earth by getting and staying grounded. No matter how crappy the weather, I committed myself to walking at least two miles – and on two of those days, I managed to sneak in the entire four mile ‘walkabout.’

Staying Connected

To be honest? I assumed Spirit was counseling me to get grounded, to refrain from flights of paranoia or thoughts of unkindness or intrigue or backstabbing. I took solace in Turtle’s advice to get and stay connected to Mother Earth – knowing in my heart that She would never forsake me – and remembering it’s the times of greatest stress and challenge that ask us to remember from whence our strength and comfort is generated.

So I walked. I walked and watched and listened. I noticed the changeability of the weather and listened to the wind whooshing through the very tops of the pine trees lining the road. I paid attention as flocks of birds responded to the shifts and adjusted their trajectories in order to make the most of the changing conditions they encountered.

Is It the Shell?

I wondered, as I walked, “Is it Turtle’s shell I’m being called to notice?” That’s such an obvious aspect, the protection afforded by its shell, its home; the ability to withdraw, tuck in, retreat. Yet, I wasn’t sure.

Yeah, I could withdraw. I could. But as tempting as that was, the message felt less a call to withdraw as it was a demand for connection.

“If you have chosen the Turtle symbol, you are being asked to honor the creative source within you, to be grounded to the Earth, and to observe your situation with motherly compassion. Use the water and earth energies, which represent Turtle’s two homes, to flow harmoniously with your situation and to place your feet firmly on the ground in a power stance.”*

Gratitude

And then it dawned on me. Two of those three days I chose Turtle, it appeared reversed. I realized I needed to pay particular attention to what the reversal of Turtle could be trying to convey to me:

“The idea of a Turtle helplessly trying to right itself after it has been flipped upside down can also symbolize contrary Turtle. You are not a victim, and you are not helpless, no matter how much it may see like this is the case in your present situation. To right the ill-dignified Turtle, you need only list the things you are grateful for, and from that grateful place in your heart, look for the abundance of alternatives that Mother Earth gives.”* (emphasis added)

Ah yes.

It’s essential to make the effort to be present and aware of my life, my friends, my connection to Spirit, including the amazing array of blessings my life offers me every single day. It’s important to feel snowflakes flecked with sleet nick my cheeks only a day after hearing peepers prematurely sing their spring songs.

In embracing my connection to Mother Earth and realizing the protection the shell of my blessings provides me, I realize: She really does provide us with an abundance of alternatives.

Another Turtle Altogether

So tonight, I chose to indulge in the joys provided by another Turtle altogether:

Sometimes, my friends, we just need the comfort and love that a milk chocolate cashew turtle from Pierre’s Chocolates can offer. And so? I indulged.

A different type of turtle – Yum – Photo: L. Weikel

*excerpted from Medicine Cards, by Jamie Sams and David Carson – affiliate link

(T-658)

Digesting the Day – Day 382

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Photo: L. Weikel

Digesting the Day

We didn’t get a chance to take a walk today. I regret that, but by the time we got home it just felt too late. We were tired.

Which is pretty much the reason why we should’ve dug down deep and at least one or the other of us insisted that we do so. Precisely because we were so tired, we should have made a point of hauling our carcasses outside and marching our behinds up the road.

Emotional Weariness

Yeah, we were a little tired from the drive to and fro. But honestly, it was a gorgeous day outside, with only the occasional sprinkle from an errant dark cloud blowing through. Two and a half hours each way is not that significant an investment in love and family.

No, the weariness was emotional. That’s usually the most devastating. But interestingly, it’s also, in my experience, the most susceptible to reinvigoration by an immersion in nature. So it is a pity that, in spite of knowing this, I did not insist.

No. In many ways I betrayed my knowing – my knowledge of the secrets surrounding walking and listening to nature and the need for both in order to recover from toxic disconnection.

Toxic Disconnection

This concept is probably at the root of the vast majority of unhappiness, fear, rage, and disappointment we see in the world. And by it, I’m referring to the tendency of so many in our lives, in our families, and in our social circles to speak to the matter of loneliness or isolation with more of the same.

Why is it that so often we humans run away at full speed from the concepts and practices that would keep us connected? Connected to ourselves, to each other, and to the land.

I’m sure I don’t know. Is human nature simply contrary?

Loneliness

One definition of loneliness (via dictionary.com) is: “destitute of sympathetic or friendly companionship, intercourse, support.” There’s a ton of loneliness in the world. There’s an untold number of people who feel cut off from, or deliberately make a point of cutting themselves off  from other people and the support they could easily receive if they gave themselves permission.

I think the worst part of witnessing loneliness is the realization that the antidote is right in front of most who suffer from it. They may rebuff gestures of outreach from other humans, both related and not. And that’s a pity. But the greatest violence they do to their hearts and spirits is refusing to accept the love and connection that abounds around all of us if we just open our eyes, ears, and hearts – in particular, the love from Mother Earth and her many expressions.

I’m close to falling asleep. This digestion needs further contemplation.

A Simple Message

But I will leave with this short video clip. Six minutes or so that may start your day off in an attitude that will get you – and keep you – connected to what’s important.

Have a great day and know it is all so much simpler than what we’re told or believe.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-729)

Eve of Gratitude – Day 381

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Bare trees – Photo: L. Weikel

Eve of Gratitude

I’d heard a forecast that today and tomorrow, Thanksgiving, were going to be marked by high winds, winds that could wreak havoc on trees and power lines. As the day progressed and I watched charcoal colored clouds crowd into the sky from the north, I braced for a shift. Only a splatter of rain made an appearance, though; it came and went so fast I almost thought I’d imagined it. But no wind. Nor a drop in temperature. The day, while overcast, was almost balmy.

It’s nighttime now and everyone in this house is in bed except me. About an hour ago, the wind chimes started clattering. Gusts started huffing at our shutters, rearranging the furniture still on our porch. And as Goddess is my witness, as I was typing that last sentence, our massive wooden front door blew open.

A Whole New Perspective

Since I had to get up to close and lock it, I stood for a moment in the doorway, facing the road but (gratefully) not able to see it in the darkness. Oddly, the wind that had dramatically opened the door was not blowing from the south. Standing there, I was not buffeted by any wind whatsoever. But I could hear it swirling above and around by listening to the trees that surround our home.

I could sense if not see the older, thinning pines that line the property across from us waving their top branches frantically, as if they were evergreen head-bangers.

I expected the temperature to be much colder than it was this afternoon, but it is not. In fact, it’s so mild, I walked outside in bare feet, just to immerse myself in the wildness for a moment, the door blowing open acting as an invitation to join the dance. A snap and a clatter caused me to run inside to fetch a flashlight. A decent sized branch – big enough to get snagged under a passing car  – lay in the center of the road. I tossed it to the side and returned to my post (literally and figuratively).

So now I find I’ve lost the thread of where I was going with this at the outset.

Nothing That’s Not Been Said Before

I know I was going to mention a few of the things for which I am grateful, possibly some of the more obscure aspects of my life. Certainly nothing that’s not been said before. But now I find most thought has been swept away.

My eyes close as I listen to the wind sweeping the fallen leaves across the lawn, yanking at those that tenaciously hold on to the branches of the maples, cherries, and ashes that lean in protectively.

It was dark when I went outside just now. New moon dark. The black of the night sky rich with possibilities, like moist, fecund soil, the old being swept away to make room for the birth and nurturing of fresh ideas, dreams, and aspirations.

I’m sitting here feeling an abounding expansiveness of gratitude. How happy and grateful I am to have a warm home that can stand against the wild winds and keep me and my loved ones (two and four legged especially) sheltered while we dream our dreams, whatever they may be and wherever they may take us.

P.S.: Our opossum visited yet again this evening. That makes it four days in a row.

(T-730)

Great Success! – Day 322

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Autumnal purple and gold – Photo: L. Weikel

Great Success!

The 15 year celebration at Medicine in Balance today was an unqualified success. Balmy weather, scrumptious food, and remarkable entertainment by Ryan Sabalaske all added up to create a fitting tribute to the longevity of this unique medical practice.

The best part about the afternoon, though, was the opportunity to catch up with friends and clients I’ve not seen in years.

Numerology Course

I did manage to get home in time to take a walk with Karl before my final numerology class with Alison Baughman. What a great course. Probably the one major downer about taking the course, though, is the fact that , without a doubt, I’m now going to be even worse than I ever was before about internally ‘doing the math’ to figure out the numerological status of practically everything I encounter.

What’s fascinating about that is the power of simple observation. That’s the most reliable method anyone can use to bring to light correlations and discover whether there’s any correspondence between the numbers and the traits or characteristics of the subject of study.

Karl, Sheila, Spartacus, and I did managed to snag a quick walk around before the start of my class. It was during this walk that I noticed the marked shift in cricket song that marks the turning of the season. One of the biggest ‘tells’ to the shifting of seasons is, indeed, the song of the crickets.

Crickets

If you pay attention, you’ll notice that crickets rarely sing their usual staccato ‘cree-deets’ once the seasons start to change. Instead, it’s as if the crickets press their internal cricket button and they get stuck. Suddenly, we’re all living amidst one long chirp.

Even as I sit here now, with our front door open to let in some cool night air, the droning intonation created by the elder crickets is mesmerizing. While I love the sounds of the crickets and the occasional katydid punctuating the night, it’s unmistakably the beginning of the season of letting go.

Before I go to sleep, I must share with you the photo I took this evening of the wild flowers I took tonight. Sometimes I just have to marvel at the sheer perfection of Mother Earth’s palette.

Yet again, I’m closing a post feeling awash in gratitude for so very many seemingly tiny but tremendously moving miracles in my life. The fact that you’re reading this post being one of them. Thank you.

(T-789)

Our Voices Matter! – Day 292

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Tohickon Creek near Cabin #3 (yesterday) – Photo: L. Weikel

Our Voices Matter!

When I first read the great news a few days ago, I immediately thought, “I’m going to have to write about this tonight!” Alas, I ended up writing about other things, some definitely not as important as this.

But here we are, better late than never.

Back in June, I wrote a post about the Tohickon Creek, an utterly lovely waterway that has twisted, turned, flooded, dried to a meager trickle, been dammed, become free-flowing again, and hosted whitewater enthusiasts to fly-fisherpeople, to small children. Through millennia, the Tohickon has provided a place for humans of all stripes to connect to Mother Earth, and at the same time created a habitat for woodpeckers, blue herons, trout, kingfishers, frogs, turkeys, turtles, vultures, water snakes, carp, eagles, groundhogs, hawks, deer, osprey, sunnies, crows, foxes, and bluejays (to name a few). And sometimes, when the humans get lucky, these residents allow themselves to be seen and admired by the humans.

The purpose of my post in June was to ask you to take a stand on behalf of the Tohickon and speak out to prevent the downgrading of its classification.

I know; I write about the Tohickon frequently. But take a look at that list I just made (off the top of my head) of the creatures I’ve been lucky enough to share time with along her banks. It’s extraordinary!

Overflowing Gratitude

As a result of over 900 comments from the public, essential advocacy by non-profit groups, and some pressure by local officials, it appears as though Pennsylvania’s Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) has agreed to reevaluate their classification of this creek.

I love this body of water unabashedly. For me, I guess, it symbolizes everything I love about where we live and how deeply privileged I feel to have the freedom to visit her whenever I want.

Thank you for indulging my love and reading this post. Thank you for taking the time to speak out and submit your comment(s) to the Department of Environmental Protection. Thank you for helping us buy more time for the Tohickon to be studied further and, hopefully, designated an Exceptional Value stream in the eyes of the DEP.

Our Mutual Reward

Thank you for anything and everything you did to help this extraordinary body of water continue its quest to gain crucial environmental protections.

I can only hope that as a result of us taking a stand today, our grandchildren and great grandchildren (and beyond) will still be safely playing in that creek, creating treasured memories, and feeling awe at the sight of even more abundant wildlife!

Tohickon Creek, north of Cabin 3 – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-819)

39 Years and Counting – Day 229

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 6 Comments
28 June 1980

39 Years and Counting       

I look at that post title and, just like when I had my birthday back in March, I think, “Wow. How did we get here?”

Birthdays and anniversaries. Markers of the passage of time.

Karl and I were married at 10:00 a.m. on June 28, 1980. And lucky for us, at 10:00 a.m. on June 28, 2019, we were sitting together on a rock that juts into the flowing waters of the Tohickon Creek.

Transported from one sacred place to another in, what only in retrospect, feels like the blink of an eye. The living of it sometimes felt like time was moving ever so slowly; so slowly that it felt like yearned-for change would never actually happen. And other times, the living of it felt like the rug, the very fabric of our lives, was being pulled out from under us. Irrevocable, instantaneous, radical change.

At Karl’s Gathering – Photo: Ellen Naughton

Through these past 39 years (and more, actually, since we met three years earlier), the one constant in my life has been Karl. Through education achievements, career changes, sudden death of a parent, depression, births of children, longer, more prolonged sicknesses and deaths of parents, spiritual discoveries, soccer tournaments, track meets, musicals, graduations, disappointments, college admissions, Siberia, initiations, sudden death of a(n adult) child, weddings, joys, walks…

It’s been us.

The loneliest times in my life have been when there’s been discord between us. Those were the times when I most deeply questioned everything.

Gratitude for the Luck – and the Choices We’ve Made

Given the particular professions I engage in, I’m acutely aware of how much work it’s been for us to remain a true, working partnership and best friendship through thick and thin. But I’m even more aware of how lucky we are. So much of what we’ve endured could have easily torn us asunder. But each of us, at critical junctures, chose to stay. We chose to talk. We chose to take a walk instead of storming out and staying away, perhaps pouring our souls out to someone other than each other. We chose to listen.

We chose to forgive. We chose to have compassion.

We also, as one friend reminds us every once in a while because she simply could not believe it when she ran into us laughing and joking in the parking lot of our local grocery store – chose to enjoy crazy things like renting a carpet cleaner to steam clean our rugs together.

“It’s the little things,” we said, laughing at how odd we must’ve seemed.

I do so very much love those little things we share. And the big ones. But most of all, I’m grateful to have Karl sharing them – all – with me.

At Tohickon Creek – 28 June 2019 – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-882)

Welcome to Amadell – Day 178

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Arriving in NC – Photo: L. Weikel

Welcome to Amadell        

It’s said that if you want to get to know a place, it is helpful to connect with the land that you’re visiting: ideally skin to skin, or bare feet to grass, whatever way you can find to make direct connection with the land you are visiting.

I learned about this decades ago, when one of my earliest teachers recommended walking barefoot in a new country or area I might be visiting, particularly if I’d flown in an airplane to get there.

Earthing

Some might say you are simply connecting with the electrons produced by the Earth and synchronizing your energy with that of the land where you find yourself: the energy of that particular place. Indeed, studies have shown that ‘earthing’ or ‘grounding’ can literally improve our physical, psychological, and emotional health. I dare say our spiritual self, too, improves exponentially when we reconnect with Mother Earth.

Another practice which sort of goes hand-in-hand with making a physical connection with the land you’re visiting is a favorite activity of mine: speaking directly to the Spirits of the Land on which you’re standing. Nature spirits are everywhere, and it is always polite to speak to and ask permission of the spirits of the land to enter that place.

Gestures of Friendliness and Gratitude

It’s also helpful to make a gesture of friendliness and gratitude to the spirits of a particular place for their anticipated hospitality. It’s helpful, too, to make an offering – a piece of candy or chocolate, a cookie, etc. is often appreciated. Native North Americans often offer a pinch of tobacco or cornmeal.

And if you’ve forgotten to bring a snack or traditional offering, your gift can be as simple as a couple strands of your own hair. Using your breath to imbue your hair (or any of the other gifts) with you heartfelt gratitude for being welcomed to that place and then placing it on the earth with a spirit of generosity and appreciation is all it takes to make a spiritual connection to the spirits of the land.

Amadell

I arrived today at a magical place: Amadell. Amadell is a spiritual and nature sanctuary in the Appalachians (Smoky Mountains) of western North Carolina.

Not only did I have the chance this afternoon to connect directly with the land here at Amadell by laying my spine directly on her surface, I was given a particularly magical opportunity to connect with the spirits of this land by listening to the voices of some of the land’s inhabitants.

Listening to a May Apple serenade – Photo: L. Kraujalis

Connecting with the Song of May Apple

Specifically, because I happen to be lucky enough to be here at the same time that Peter May is, I lay with my back on the earth and actually listened to the songs of May Apple, Ramp, and other plants growing abundantly upon the mountainside.

What an exquisitely intimate and grounding experience.

To say I feel welcomed and at home here wouldn’t do justice to the magical sense that I’m filled with at the moment.

Peter May – Photo: L. Weikel

Peter May and The Sonic Apothecary

Peter May is many things, ranging from a musician, an alchemist, a wisdom-keeper to a plant whisperer – and you can read more about him at The Sonic Apothecary. Working with technology that picks up on the electrical signals emitted by plants and translates them into musical tones, Peter makes communication with the elemental world more accessible. If you visit his site, you can also hear a sample of the songs of various plants.

As a result of my experiences this afternoon, I am feeling an intimacy with the land and the spirits that live here that feels healing and creative. I feel nurtured and nourished. I feel connected and welcomed.

Of course, the human caretakers of this land, the Kraujalises, make me feel this way also. I am filled with gratitude for their generous friendship.

(T-933)

**I should note that I have photos that I wanted to include in this post – but alas, the perils of being on a mountain include sort of cranky internet service that gets stuck uploading photos. I’ll keep trying, but…

Shame – Day 119

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Messenger/Visitor; Photo: L.Weikel

Shame

I’m sitting here on my couch, trying to think of something different to write about tonight. I’m surprised by how tired I am, particularly since it is actually an hour earlier than the time on the clock.

You may have noticed that I got on a bit of a tear over the past few days, and I’m feeling the need to just step back and allow things to ‘be,’ allow the memories I dredged to sift and settle.

Quite honestly, the past two posts have been surprisingly revealing to me. Not only writing them, but also paying attention to my thoughts and feelings as the process unfolded, including the aftermath.

For one thing, I was utterly surprised by the content of my post on Friday night. It’s not as if I’d been sitting around all day contemplating the significance – or even the existence – of International Women’s Day. If asked, I probably wouldn’t have known it was ‘a day’ had it not been for Facebook and the myriad posts celebrating the vast array of achievements by women throughout the ages as well as more recent centuries and decades.

So as I found myself immersed in those early memories of being told and believing I had nearly limitless potential, I was surprised to notice the stirring of a feeling that I didn’t recognize. It was unfamiliar, and definitely uncomfortable. I didn’t like the feeling, yet I felt an even deeper, more primal need to keep writing, to get the story out.

Impulsively Hit Publish

When I lifted my head to take a breath Friday night, I realized two things: I only had a few minutes to get a post published, and I would have to break it up into two.

I hadn’t completed writing the memories that were demanding sunlight. But I had enough for one post. So I cut it off where I did, leaving several paragraphs dangling, with the intention of fleshing them out the next night.

I hit <<publish>> and went to bed.

When I opened my eyes yesterday morning, I felt anxious. Yikes, I’d revealed a lot more about myself than usual. While a lot of what I write is obviously intimate, there is some invisible line that I rarely if ever cross. I’m deeply uncomfortable talking about things like grades or achievements. I know for a fact this was ingrained in me by my parents, and from some interesting anthropological materials I’ve come across, I have a feeling this is part of my DNA, a cultural inheritance from my almost exclusively Irish ancestry.

In my parents’ eyes, there was not much worse you could be than arrogant. A liar perhaps. That would be worse. Or the worst. But arrogance was up there.

So humility was expected, entrained, and ingrained in me.

State of Discomfort

Revealing that I’d gotten good grades and done well in school was OK, but uncomfortable. Seeming to bitch about how things unfolded in law school felt weird. I wasn’t bitching; I was just revealing the situation as it was. But it was uncomfortable, especially as I lay in bed yesterday morning, staring out our bedroom windows, contemplating what I’d written and shared with the world.

All day I felt a bit out of sorts. I was embarrassed. Who was I to complain about things? I’d had it so much easier than so many others. I was literally in a state of discomfort whenever I thought about what I’d written.

As the day wore on, I seriously considered writing an apology to all of you. Karl had chided me for apologizing a couple of times way back in some of my first blog posts. I can’t even remember what it had to do with, but he told me it was simply ugly and I should refrain from doing it in the future.. So I felt this push/pull. Deep discomfort/desire to apologize.

Alright, I thought to myself. I won’t apologize. But I will simply refrain from completing and publishing ‘part two.’

And that’s how I approached my writing time last night. I would put aside the partially written ‘part two’ and write about something totally different. I would save what I’d written for another day, perhaps. Or never. But definitely not now.

When I went to copy the extra material from the previous night’s rough draft and paste it into its own document, I started reading it again. I got fired up. The rest of what I wanted to express just poured out of my fingertips.

I Was Ashamed

I realized I’d never thought I would ever tell this story out loud. How degraded and devalued I’d felt as a young woman. What a lie I’d lived, with people always assuming the ‘rich lawyer’ myth, which could not have been further from the truth.

And then it hit me: I was ashamed. I was ashamed of myself.

Obviously you know, if you read Saturday night’s post, that I gave myself permission to tell ‘part two.’

I’ve been contemplating this ‘shame’ thing all day. It’s a word I’ve rarely, if ever, associated with myself; not consciously, at least.

Surprisingly, I think I experienced something pretty monumental as a result of what I shared with all of you. I’m still contemplating.

I’ll let you know where this contemplation leads me.

As always, I’m grateful for your company on this journey.

(T-992)

Salted Caramel Filled Chocolates – Day Ninety

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Salted Caramel Filled Chocolates…           

are the only thing keeping me awake at the moment.

I’ve always stayed up late. (Yeah, a night owl. Go figure.) But pretty much since I started my 1111 Devotion, I’ve been staying up even later than I used to, and on a much more consistent basis. And by later I mean for the past 90 days I’ve not gone to bed before 12:30 a.m. at the earliest and 2:15 a.m. at the latest. On average, hitting the sheets by around 1:30 a.m.

For the most part, it works out. I’ve always done my best work at night. Since my college days, the dark hours when most other people are asleep were when I accomplished the most. So this isn’t a shockingly new development. The toll taker is the consistency.

And this week has been a particularly challenging stretch. Earlier in the week, I had to get up at 4:15 a.m. to take Karl to the airport. So my Wednesday was a little ragged around the edges, if I do say so myself.

Then last night I didn’t get to bed until 2:00-ish, in spite of how tired I was, and then got back up at 5:15 to make the pilgrimage back to Newark in order to collect Karl off the red-eye.

Sleep Deprivation Can Be a Bitch

Maybe it was that I only got three hours of sleep two out of the last four days. (Yeah, that might be it.) Maybe I just don’t have the EverReady Bunny mojo I used to have? Yeah, that could be it; I don’t know. One thing I do know: I’ve been borderline zombie today.

So here I am, listening to Karl’s rhythmic breathing/pseudo-snoring as he slumbers on the couch. I close my eyes to pull words from the ethers and find myself nodding off in what feel like micro-naps. I catch myself when my head bobs and I realize I’ve lost my train of thought.

Enter Chocolove filled Salted Caramel dark chocolate. Someone must have been watching over me when I went to Whole Foods on Thursday and discovered these bars of chocolate-y pillows of delight were on sale.

Probably the only reason I’ve managed to write this much is because I indulged.

A Shift in Perspective

Believe it or not, I started this post out expressing disappointment and annoyance with myself for eating chocolate so late in the evening. But I’ve deleted that garbage because I suddenly realize how lucky I am. So what if I’m overtired and need a little “chocolove” to help me follow through on my commitment? To add fuel to my Act of Power? To sustain my dedication?

I’m lucky because my husband is asleep on the couch. My sons are warm and cozy living their lives with their loves. I’m surrounded by my two dogs and three cats (even if they crowd me into a corner of our bed). I’m healthy and my senses are eager and able to indulge in the exquisite delight of a dark chocolate morsel filled with gooey salted caramel.

I have the extraordinary and magical good fortune of working with people and Spirit in the way I do. And how rich am I to hit the ‘publish’ button every night only to wake up to see that you have cared enough to walk another day with me on this journey?

So no. I’m not going to hold on to the sadness that swept across my brow last night. And I’m not going to lament the fact that I gave myself permission to eat some chocolate tonight. That’s just such an old, bullshit way of thinking.

I’m going to be grateful for the salted caramel filled dark chocolates with sweet little hearts embossed on top. I’m going to feel the love that permeates my life.

And I’m going to send it back out into the world: to you.

(T-1021)

Commitment – Day Fifty

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 6 Comments

Commitment

OK, I’ll admit it. I’m pretty much phoning this one in.

I’m nursing a slight headache, I was a little brought down by yet another day full of low hanging clouds and relentless rain, and this is my fiftieth consecutive post!

Actually, that last part makes me smile.

I’m glad I’m sitting up here on my bed, with but minutes to spare before the ball drops and 2019 begins, and I’m writing this.

I find it fascinating that I feel so connected to you; and I do feel that there is a ‘you’ at the other end of this post. There are eyes reading these words. And I’m intrigued by this relationship I feel we’re cultivating.

If I didn’t feel something, I wouldn’t be sitting up here all by myself, writing this. But I’m not all by myself, am I?

Thank you for supporting me energetically and otherwise over the past fifty days.

I’d like to invite each one of you to join me in some form of devotion to yourself in 2019. Maybe contemplate not giving something up as you enter this new year, but rather bringing something in, instead.

Turning off the television and reading for an hour before bed every night.

Keeping a journal and writing at least one page (and preferably three – wink wink), every day.

Drawing or taking a photograph with your phone every single day to document your joy.

Realizing you are loved. And appreciated. Even if it is ‘only’ by yourself.

Thank you for walking beside me. I look forward to 2019 – together.

(T-1061)