Oooh baby, I need a walk. I got caught up in an appointment that required me to be inside all afternoon. When I emerged from my sojourn into other realms, the sun had set.
I stood at the kitchen door, staring at the western sky, the storm door caked with frost and ice crystals from repeated openings to accommodate our four-leggeds. I yearned to walk, but there was zero enthusiasm for it from Karl or the pups. I could sense the temperature had plunged, and I didn’t want to become chilled to the bone.
But the colors left in the sun’s wake were tantalizing. If anything can get me out of the house it’s a sunset with an exploding palette. For once, though, I yielded to the plaintive glances of Pacha and Brutus. (I tend to make them ‘walk off’ their reticence – and had to do so almost the entire past week.)
Too freaking cold to walk – Photo: L. Weikel
Tonight
There’s always the chance that I might decide to take a walk – even if a short one – on my own. This is especially true if the sky is tantalizingly clear or there are meteor showers or other phenomena occurring through the night. But Karl just said, “I won’t stand in your way; do what you need to do. But I promise you – it is cold.”
In the end, hunger won out.
Something tells me I made a wise choice. Perhaps this screenshot of The Weather Channel I took only minutes ago? Yeah, that’s persuasive. If it feels like -5 degrees, I have no interest in proving how I can power through it.
It’s funny, now that I think about it. Was it more of an Act of Power to say no to that part of myself that demands I walk every day? Or should I have made myself do it? Yet again, my spontaneous ‘sighting’ of the Rune Isa earlier in the week and integration of its message of Standstill echoes in my thoughts.
I can revel in the snow and take that yearned-for walk tomorrow. Tonight I needed to be quiet, power down, and allow my batteries to recharge. (And – p.s. – judging from this screenshot, below, I should’ve gone to bed a bit earlier. This is what can happen when you fall asleep at your keyboard! YIKES!)
Oops. Shouldn’t fall asleep with your hands on the keyboard. Photo: L. Weikel
What a powerful line of thunderstorms came through our area early this afternoon. To be honest, I thought I was ahead of the game. I persuaded Karl to take our usual walk earlier today, knowing that we were supposed to get some wild weather and that storms would be ushering in some substantially chillier temperatures. I don’t know about you, but once the warmer weather sets in, I’m no longer as hardy a wanderer. If I can walk without freezing my behind off, I’m all for it.
It’s for this reason Karl and I jauntily ventured out on a walkabout just after noon. I thought we had a window of about 90 minutes or so to get our longer walk in before the cold front hit.
I was mistaken.
We were just past the Hounds of the Baskervilles when my phone issued its satellite-sound that tells me a weather alert has been sent. A line of thunderstorms was approaching our area, it said, and the front was traveling at a speed of 40 m.p.h. Scanning the horizon to our west, I could see perhaps some slightly grayer clouds, but nothing remarkable. I checked the ‘fine print’ of the warning: all of the towns mentioned as being in the storm’s path were substantially west and north of us.
“Let’s keep going,” I said. “I think we’ll be ok.”
I swear, as soon as those words came out of my mouth, the wind shifted. Not only was it palpable, it was audible as well. The trees alongside the road started whispering. There was a swirling sensation above us, a stirring-things-up sort of vibe.
Just as we got home – Photo: L. Weikel
About Face
Standing in the middle of the road, we were conflicted. We knew we didn’t want to risk getting drenched. And even more, we didn’t want to get caught in lightning.
“Ya think a two is do-able?” Karl asked. We again peered at the western horizon. It still didn’t look particularly threatening, and I pointed out that the warning didn’t include any towns near us.
“Better to be safe than sorry,” I sighed. “Let’s do a two now; and if the storms pass soon enough, maybe we can get another walk in later.”
And so we did an about face and walked back up the road about half a mile to our other route. Spartacus particularly enjoyed our decision to retrace our steps because it gave him a second chance in one day to exchange smack talk with The Hounds.
But in the short time it took us to walk the half mile back and then a half mile along the other road, dark, almost bluish-gray clouds were billowing toward us. Our decision to turn back was definitely affirmed, and it was only a few minutes later that we wondered whether we’d even make it around the shorter route. The photo above is what we saw on the horizon. This storm was barreling toward us. The brunt of it might be threatening north and west of us, but yikes – it sure looked like we were going to get smacked by the edge of it.
Profiles from the porch – Photo: L. Weikel
Discretion
As my mother used to say, “discretion being the better part of valor,” we decided that this rapidly moving front was nothing to mess with. We turned around yet again. By the time we got back to the house, thunder was rumbling in the distance and the wind was starting to descend from the tops of the tallest trees and starting to rustle the middle range.
Being the storm junkie that I am, I sat on the porch and watched it come in. The wind chimes were losing their minds. Looking northwest from our porch, the clouds appeared to form profiles as they rode their breath across the sky, not unlike classic images of the North Wind, only these two didn’t puff their cheeks.
Worse, though, were the petals. Oooh, so many petals, mostly from the cherry trees, filled the air like a blizzard. But then, in the midst of all the petals, pellets of hail started clattering on the bird feeders and grill top, and bouncing all over the road. It was wild.
Lucky for us, we listened to the wind and heeded the threat of those slate gray and black clouds that appeared so quickly on our horizon. Within moments, the temperature plummeted and the day felt totally different.
The old – and maybe even some of the new – was swept up and away.
Spartacus Sending Mind-Meld Vibes – Photo: L. Weikel
A Coalescence of Messaging
I’m experiencing a coalescence of messaging lately. At least that’s what it feels like. Two Pileated Woodpeckers and then two days later two Ospreys. Neither of these birds can be considered ‘frequent’ sightings, in spite of how much time I spend outside walking or how often I frequent the Tohickon Creek or the Delaware River.
The trick, as always, is to do my best to be open to what that message may be, which is not as easy as it might sound.
It’s one thing to be able to see patterns and read signs and omens for other people. I’ve been intuiting such messages probably all my life. In fact, for the longest time I thought these clues to life that surround people were so obvious that I wouldn’t point them out. It never occurred to me that they weren’t being ‘picked up’ by the intended recipients. Indeed, I didn’t want to insult people’s intelligence. It felt disrespectful to point out everything that seemed readily apparent to me.
Sometimes a part of me would want to say, “Well, duh! Do you need to be clonked on the head with a 2×4? It’s so obvious!” Usually, though, I would over-correct and deliberately choose to not point out what was blaring like a neon light in my mind. If it was obvious to me, surely it was obvious to them. I only saw the connections based upon information I gleaned from listening to them (be they clients, friends, or family). I was simply connecting the dots.
Forty Years
If I really think about it, it probably took me at least forty years to fully grasp that people don’t see what I see. Or they don’t connect stuff that happens all around us – particularly after asking a pointed question or expressing a yearning for guidance or a message – that to me is obviously a direct response to their plea.
As I say, I think I’ve always had an odd way of looking at and interpreting information that comes to us via a variety of traditional sensory and extra-sensory means. But it wasn’t until I started engaging in the energetic work I was taught in the Andean shamanic tradition, including listening to and giving credence to the information I receive via shamanic journeying, that I realized that a significant part of what I offer is precisely what I thought was the most mundane and pedestrian aspect of my work.
Do For Yourself
I’ve spent a lot of my writing time this evening trying to convey something I’ve struggled with for decades. I’ve probably taken so much time trying to explain my perspective because it matters to me how I express this. I’m not in any way disparaging those who look at a very obvious (again, to me) message from their higher self or Spirit (or whomever you want to attribute the message) and don’t get it.
In fact, I often wonder if it’s just a blind spot we all have. Are messages easier to See when they’re not being directed toward us?
I don’t know. I do know, however, that as obvious as so many messages, signs, and symbols are to me as they pertain to other people, I have a really tough time reading them for myself. Perhaps it’s because I do my best to remain detached on behalf of others. I don’t want to be invested in hearing any particular answer or message for another person, so I just see what I see and hear what I hear.
But for myself? That’s tough. It’s not as easy as you might think.
I tend to write a lot about listening. It’s a passion of mine. I believe a well-developed ability to sincerely listen to whomever (or whatever) we’re in relationship with is a profound display of respect and caring. And listening is most definitely fundamentally different than just ‘hearing.’ In a similar vein, I feel there’s a fundamental difference between looking and seeing. Sometimes it serves us to stop and ask ourselves, “What are we seeing?”
There’s a lot going on in the world right now. Especially here in the United States, situations are presenting themselves that I honestly believe very few people would ever have believed even one year ago, much less four years ago. These situations, while unfolding here in the U.S., are most definitely going to impact the entire world – just like they did four years ago.
It seems to me that we would all be wise to not only brush up on our listening skills, but right now take a good look at what’s taking place right before our very eyes.
What are we seeing? What is being said? What does it all mean?
Ask Yourself
We owe it to ourselves to ask ourselves and each other these questions before it’s too late. It seems to me that if we’d been truly listening to what was being said by the most powerful people in this country, we would not be in the position we’re in at the moment. Intentions have been stated quite clearly. But a desire to just ‘hear’ and a refusal to truly listen may have sealed a fate for us to experience – at least in the next several weeks and months – that no one wants.
And the same can be said for how things look like they’re going to play out.
What are we seeing? Is it a gorgeous sunset? Or the Eye of Sauron? When we look, what – or who – do we see staring back at us?
We were bombarded this afternoon. The oppressive heat that’s been building over the past several days yielded to a 20 degree drop in temperature this afternoon when waves of enormous thunderstorms arrived from the south.
Massive, angry-looking banks of deep slate-gray thunderheads slid into our area. As the front arrived, it almost felt like the onslaught of alien invaders. The sky darkened and wind suddenly started whipping around, swinging the birdfeeders and sending the wind chimes into a clamoring frenzy.
We could hear the rain approaching before it arrived. Sheets and sheets of it cascaded from the heavens immediately overflowing not only our home’s gutters but also the creek across the road. What might qualify as a small pond appeared near our barn within 20 minutes.
Soothing Noise
As these storms arrived, our home became so dark in the middle of the afternoon that it could easily have passed for an hour past sunset. The steady pelting of the massive raindrops created such a uniform clatter that, along with the darkness, I felt compelled to listen. I lay down on our bed and simply allowed Mother Nature to soothe my soul.
Laying on the bed in the darkness, I stopped thinking. I felt held by the storm; comforted by the wild saturation and ultimate letting loose of all that moisture.
Temporary Respite
Sadly, the respite from the blanketing heat was short-lived. We never did get a walk in today, although we did manage to mow the lawn before the rain arrived. I just went outside again before settling in to write this post and was shocked to feel how thick and warm the air is again. Warmer than I expected at this late hour.
This month is going to be intense. I feel it in my bones.
Some days are harder than others, and some days are more interesting.
For instance, today I had the honor of serving on an arbitration panel at the Bucks County Courthouse. Few things thrill me more than fulfilling my annual obligation to serve on an arbitration panel.
Arbitration panels in Bucks County are comprised of three attorneys each, and hear cases that have been certified by the parties as having a jurisdictional dispute amount of up to $50,000.00 (fifty thousand dollars).
Their Day In Court
Aside from their desire to win their case (whether that means winning an award of monetary damages as a result of a car accident or enforcing a contract or resolving a dispute with a neighbor), it’s pretty obvious that the single most important service we provide as arbitrators is giving citizens their day in court.
If a panel does their job well, each party should, ideally, leave that arbitration room feeling heard and respected – regardless of whether they win or lose. They should feel both as though they had the opportunity to calmly explain their position and that they were listened to.
Photos
I had a couple of photos from nature that I intended to add to this post (yes, I felt they were oddly relevant), but alas, they’re stuck somewhere in the ether. It’s a little frustrating, as I thought I’d sent them to myself early enough in the evening to avoid this old trope. But no dice.
I’m just going to tell myself that this only frees up more creative options to use those photos in a future post. It also just means I need to go to bed.
Let’s hope tomorrow yields even greater opportunities for thoughtful reflection and the sharing of photos.
I picked up a book today that’s been half stuffed under my bed for, dare I guess, at least six months or so. My box of tissues had slid off and I could see one of the words of the title: Exquisite. What a delicious word.
Opening the book randomly to a vignette entitled “Falling Down and Getting Up,” I was captivated by the first few sentences:
“When medieval monks were asked how they practiced their faith, they would often reply, ‘By falling down and getting up.’ And there you have the whole muddled mess of being human. Over and over, this very humbling sequence returns us to the earth, to the humus, to the soil. (…)
“How we think about this matters. For falling down is not about failure, but about experiencing as many of life’s positions as possible. It is how we learn. And getting up is not about vanquishing or conquering an opponent or circumstance, but about not getting stuck in one of life’s innumerable valleys.”
Tests and Choices of Friendship – and Life
Sometimes tests come in unexpected and seemingly random moments. Situations arise that ordinarily would appear or sound utterly absurd but, for whatever reason, don the cloak of plausibility for the briefest of moments – and that moment (and our choice) changes everything.
We’re all given options. Choices to tumble into and remain stuck in valleys of ugliness and choices to open our eyes, look up, and wipe the muck from our eyes. Choices to see what is and has been in our hearts, and choices to see, perhaps, what never actually was.
I’m sure it’s been rather obvious that I recently tumbled into a valley of despair and disbelief, discovering betrayal is alive and well in the world (as if we need any reminders). Sadly, betrayal can come in the dual form of both the speaker of lies and those who would listen to those poisonous words and accept them as true without discernment.
Choosing the Mountain
When I discovered this specific passage today, I knew it was confirming what I’d already experienced. I’d just encountered the balm of deep friendship, of knowing my heart was seen – and known – by another. I’d chosen, by simply reaching out, to rise from that valley, regaining my preferred perch with its expansive, honest, and open-hearted view.
It’s amazing what loving kindness can reveal. It’s equally or perhaps even more amazing what lies – and the willingness to believe them – can reveal.
Knowledge is power, though.
Listening to the Voice Inside
Just in flicking randomly through this gift from under my bed, I discovered the following words, which also speak to my recent experiences:
“Whenever you put your ear to the earth or to your own heart, the deeper instruments play, swelling our sense of things. When lost, we simply have to remember to put our ear to the earth, or to our heart, and we will hear a warmth that guides.”
Listening with our whole beings. Listening to our hearts, to the earth, to our own deepest knowing. We all fall, we all make mistakes, we all get lost; none of us is perfect.
Listening, though, helps us make the choice to get back up.
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.
I’ve read some comments and received some feedback on a few of my posts about reading and the difficulty I sometimes experience giving myself permission to make time (or is it allow time?) to bask in immersing myself in a book. So I’ve been pondering audiobooks.
Of course, a lot of my judgment around taking time to read books stems from unkindness to myself. And here I found myself having to go back to that last sentence and insert the word ‘books’ because, in truth, I spend a great deal of time – every day – reading. I read lots and lots of things every day; plenty of articles and emails, especially.
But books? Pretty much all the books I read are for pleasure. Even when they’re memoir, the reading of which I could (and should) legitimately tell myself is related to my own work as a writer, I still harbor some deep-seated sense that because I derive such pleasure and delight from reading a good book, it’s something I should put off until all my other responsibilities are addressed.
Rather draconian attitude, I know.
Obviously, it’s a big deal for me, since I’ve written about this a number of other times already in the past 11 months. Yet I still struggle with it.
Why Do I Resist Audiobooks?
As I mentioned at the outset of this post, I’ve had some suggest that I listen to books instead of reading them. That I snag time to indulge in books being piped into my head via earphones rather than my own eyes.
There are two primary reasons that suggestion doesn’t hold out a lot of appeal to me, and I’ve actually only just this second realized that they’re actually related.
The first is reflected in this fragment of a sentence: “…I’ve had some suggest that I listen to books…” Hmm. Yes. Precisely. The keyword here is (as is oft the case with me): listen.
Listening is what I do. It’s what I provide as a service to the people who seek me out in almost any capacity. It’s arguably my best attribute as a partner, as a friend, as a family member, as a healer, as an attorney, and basically, as a person. And my listening includes reading and responding to emails and text messages as well as actual verbal exchanges (be they in person or telephonic).
Silence, to Me, Truly Is Golden
Let me be perfectly and unambiguously clear: I love what I do. I love ‘being there’ for whomever needs me. And I wouldn’t trade the privilege of doing so for the world.
But! This also means that when I am driving (not long distances), cooking, washing dishes, and mowing the lawn (probably the four activities I do primarily in silence), I really do truly revel in that silence.
So the thought of filling those precious moments with more listening holds no appeal.
Long Distance Driving, Though?
Driving long distances is another matter entirely. And I can totally relate to the joy of becoming immersed in a great story as the miles fly by.
Actually, I could easily make the argument that listening to an audiobook while driving long distances is actually so incredibly efficient, it makes the entire endeavor of getting from Point A to Point B a win-win.
Indeed, Karl – who travels extensively with his work – has become completely enamored with ‘Libby.’ I’m not sure if that’s an app or a service provided by local libraries, but it enables him to now devour books as voraciously via his ears as he used to when he was a kid growing up with no television. (No, he isn’t that old. His parents just didn’t believe in tv.)
The funny thing is, as a result of Karl and so many other friends and relatives blowing through tome after tome via the wonders of Audible (etc.) and extolling the virtues of audiobooks, I’m actually in the process of figuring out the best way to record Owl Medicine, so it, too, can be accessed in that manner, as well as paper and e-book.
I’m all for progress. Even if I choose to stay ‘old school’ most of the time.
I wasn’t going to write about this tonight, but I have to tell you: it’s not easy coming up with something to write about every night. And that holds especially true when something kind of crappy happened during my day and it’s sort of the only thing that’s occupying my mind.
Well, there are a couple of understatements: ‘kind of crappy’ and ‘sort of the only thing that’s occupying my mind.’
I realize, believe me, that facing the fact that my car has two tires in the junk yard is a miniscule concern compared to so much of what so many other people are dealing with. I know that. But that doesn’t mean this isn’t big in my world at the moment.
Regardless, There’s No Comparison
Yeah, I write the words contained in that paragraph, above, but truthfully they ring hollow. Yeah, it stinks that my car is essentially irreparable and may conk out at any moment – and in such a manner as to render me stranded and the vehicle worthless.
But aren’t I lucky that I have the knowledge, in my back pocket, that I have AAA? Yes. I am.
And aren’t I lucky that I have the knowledge, deep within myself, that I will manifest a new car? Yes, I am.
So I call bullshit on myself.
There are simply so many things going on in the lives of people all around me, people I love and care about, people who are blood family and people who are Spirit family, people I don’t know well and those I don’t know at all, that are far worse than my car wearing out. Indeed, the very fact that I was able to take care of my car for 15 years, eke out 311,241 miles (and counting, if only by the hour!) out of her, and not have a car payment for ten years is amazing.
So, no.
Everything has a season – Photo: L. Weikel
Listening and Perspective
Because listening is so sacred to me, and because it is probably the greatest aspect of myself I can give to those around me, I can safely say that a day doesn’t go by that I don’t extend it to someone – at least one person – every day.
And lately, especially, I’ve noticed that there is a lot of upheaval in the world. People’s lives are being upended in astonishing ways: loss of loved ones (human and otherwise), profound betrayals and ugly realizations, prolonged struggles with depression and pernicious recurrences of hopelessness and despair. Fear of losing a job or the business that’s been cultivated for decades. Loneliness – even when surrounded by people or in long-term relationships that died long ago.
And of course on the world stage, there are people realizing the jig may be up – on so many levels and in so many life-altering ways.
All I Have
Meanwhile, here I am, enjoying so much. My family. My friends. My amazing four legged loves. The birds that frequent my feeders or soar above me when I ask for a message, or reveal themselves as I sit by the creek. My beloved Tohickon and the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River). My work and the amazing people I get to meet through what I do. My health.
Yes, I’m mostly speaking in generalities because to be specific feels like bragging, and that’s quite honestly the last thing I’m intending in this post.
How could I look at tonight’s sky and remain upset over my car? How could I, when I was able to walk with my best friend as the colors of the sunset deepened into an indigo that was hard to describe?
