Month: March 2019

Peepers – Day 129

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 3 Comments
Super Worm Moon – bisected by an errant cloud; Photo: L.Weikel

Peepers         

They started hatching last week, when the temperature soared to over 70 degrees two days in a row and the evenings barely dipped into the 40s.

A sure sign of spring, peepers are symbols of hope. They are evidence of life surviving the dark bleak wasteland of winter.

Their cacophonic voices can reach a frightful volume, especially when they all seem to be crawling out of their primordial ooze at the same time. The moistness of the boggy land just beyond and partially within the forests around our home lends itself to images of armies of these newly hatched amphibians poking their heads out of the mud in unison – or maybe in waves –  singing and croaking their way to dinner and sex. Or is it sex then dinner? Not sure. Maybe they’re just babies, Lisa. Get your mind out of the mud.

Onomatopoeia At Its Finest

Every year, as we walk our usual route, we’re enchanted by the emanations and eruptions coming from these swampy enclaves. Some peepers sound exactly as their names imply. Onomatopoeia at its finest. But then there are The Others.

The Others sound precisely like one might imagine beings from outer space sounding. You know, when they gurgle burgle up from their hiding places in the Earth’s mud only to sprout arms and legs and turn into massive praying mantis like beasts who make it clear they’ve been biding their time, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity to become our tyrannical overlords – or eat us for dinner.

Those deeper, scratchier-voiced frogs that seem to arrive alongside the peepers lend themselves to active imaginations, especially since their volume grows exponentially as the sun sets and shadows make seemingly normal trees and branches appear deeply unfamiliar and a little bit spooky. I wish I could figure out how to upload my iPhone recording of these creatures and their preternatural voices. For now, this little recording by someone else will have to do.

Balanced Stillness

We took a walk this evening just after the moon had technically reached its full ripeness and just as the equinox was reaching its perfect point of balanced stillness.

Regrettably, as my rather pathetic photos show, a cloud cover marred her grand entrance and denied us the opportunity to behold the ‘full super worm moon’ in all her unfettered glory.

As we walked, though, we listened to the voices of the peepers and their compatriots growing louder and louder. A soft wind gently rustled the still leafless branches of the trees at the edge of the meadows making them clack and groan ever so softly. We sensed something.

We stopped and looked at each other. We both noticed it; the hairs on our arms and at the back of our necks rose up.

It was the Spirit of Spring Equinox arriving, tiptoeing into our lives, dangling her shoes from her fingertips, a slender finger held to her lips.

Bringing us hope.

(T-982)

Couple More Thoughts on the News -Day 128

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A Couple More Thoughts on the News

I’m not sure if I’ve seen yet all the comments (public and private) my post yesterday spurred. That’s because I only had a few minutes this morning to even check things out on my phone.

Amazingly, I’m only just now getting online with my laptop and it’s almost midnight.

I may have given the wrong impression last night. It crossed my mind as I was writing it, but I chose not to go into more detail at the time. I’m not sure, but it may have been a sad attempt at avoiding controversy, which is kind of dumb – especially since the actual name of my blog is Ruffled Feathers.

My News History

So let me just set the record straight:

First and probably foremost, I believe the last time I watched good ol’, actual ‘old-style’ network news was during 9/11 and a few days in its aftermath. And that was only to glean as much information as I could from a comforting, what I perceived then to be a reliable source in that moment.

Prior to and post 9/11, as my boys were growing up, we watched ‘the news’ pretty much never. This was vastly different than watching tv while I was growing up, with the John Facendas of local news at 6:00 p.m. and either Huntley and Brinkley or, of course, Walter Cronkite at 7:00 p.m., as dependable as clockwork against the backdrop of my parents and their obligatory after-work cocktail with crackers and cheese.

Ugh, I remember wishing my father would come home late and not kick me off the tv. I always had to turn Star Trek off and it was such a bummer. Of course, that was back in the day when all the good stuff I wanted to watch was on the ‘UHF’ channels of 17, 29, and 48. These three much more static-y and hard to tune in just right channels featured much more of the stuff I wanted to watch than the standard channels of 3, 6, and 10. If I’m not mistaken, channel 48 had Roller Derby. And Ultra Man.

But when Daddy got home, the television became his domain. So news it was.

Post-Marriage News Habits

On the other hand, when our guys were growing up, I do not remember watching news. In fact, I don’t remember watching much tv at all. Most of the programs I remember from their growing up years were cartoons like Power Rangers, He-Man, and Ren & Stimpy.  (Yes, Ren & Stimpy. I’ve always shared a gross and some might say vulgar sense of humor with my sons.)

We also watched some of the classic night time tv shows ‘of the day,’ like Cheers and Roseanne and Murphy Brown. I remember watching the very first episode of the Simpsons, too. Hard to believe that’s still cranking out new episodes. The damn series outlived my son. Doesn’t seem right.

Another favorite to watch with my kids was Pee-Wee’s Playhouse on Saturday mornings. By the time my youngest son came along, we actually owned a VCR. So we ended up watching more movies than ever. Lion King and Toy Story were two of the best, with the dialogue-less The Snowman being one that always made me choke up.

All this to say: news via television was not a staple in our home. We did read the local newspaper and magazines.

My Current Sense of Responsibility

So when I say I feel a sense of responsibility to watch the news, I should clarify that I pretty much mean what’s going on politically. And to put a further point on that, I do feel it is my responsibility to watch some of this so that I am a well-informed voter. And to that end, since I am basically engaging in a form of tele-viewing confession, I like watching Rachel Maddow, because she goes into such depth in her stories. She puts current events into historical context in ways no other shows of that nature do. I have learned a ton of history by watching her program.

The slippery slope for me is watching the shows either before or after hers. It can get addictive. And it can become enraging or upsetting or a whole smörgåsbord of adrenalin-or-despair inducing emotions. As in everything, therefore, moderation is the key.

I whole-heartedly endorse a strict abstention from 99% of local news (not counting what you might read in print or may hear on the radio). And I feel NPR is a wonderful resource; I’m just not in my car all that often anymore, now that I no longer have a long daily commute.

While I try to limit my consumption of articles on the internet, I do confess to having subscriptions to the New York Times and a couple other publications. I try to be well-rounded (and open-minded), and even more importantly, careful not to read or pass along garbage.

The bottom line, however, is that I do feel a responsibility to remain aware and informed. NOT inflamed. And NOT propagandized (which is tough in this climate).

But every once in a while, it is a delight to completely and totally ignore what’s going on in Washington D.C., or Harrisburg, or around the world. Especially since there is a lot happening that weighs heavily on all of us. At least those of us who are paying attention.

Which I have a sneaking feeling includes most of you.

(T-983)

Responsibility – Day 127

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March Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

Responsibility         

I have a confession to make. I feel as though I’ve shirked a responsibility that I take quite seriously. And yet, the act itself harkens back to a different time in our my life.

Tonight, Karl and I chose to refrain from watching any news on television.

Perhaps that sounds weird. I suppose it’s possible for people to be living life without paying much attention to what’s happening on the national and international stage. But for me? That feels irresponsible.

Actually, I’m feeling a swing of reactions, from a calm sense of relief that I’m not immersed in the world of politics and upsetting news of violence and hate crimes that seem more apropos of Escape from LA than it should be to live in the world in March 2019, to a foreboding sense of moral responsibility.

I’m pretty sure I’ve written about this before. It may have been another evening when I allowed myself to indulge in the sweetness of silence by turning off our television. Yes indeed, I’m pretty sure I even called my post Evening Silence.

Not One Minute Today

Tonight is a little different than that night. In fact, while I haven’t kept meticulous track of my viewing habits, I bet this is the first weeknight I’ve not watched even one minute of news since I began my 1111 Devotion back in November. Wait. That might not be precisely true. The holidays of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, and possibly Thanksgiving, I think I may have abstained as well. But holidays are like weekends: major world or life events that demand our attention just aren’t supposed to happen on those days.

Of course, we all know that’s not true; it’s not reality. But we pretend it is.

As a result, as a direct consequence of that pretending, I rarely think twice about what’s going on “out there” on weekends and holidays.

But wow. Today is a regular workday. It is a day that falls on the heels of some wretched events that simply make me want to weep. We are being forced to contemplate the nth degree of cruelty that humans inflict upon each other. And it’s happening over and over again, seemingly day after day. And it hurts.

Have I Hit My Saturation Point?

I’m a bit concerned that I’m reaching my saturation point. That concerns me, because it feels like succumbing to that sense of precipitous overload is playing directly into a nefarious agenda. An agenda being set by those who would have us live lives based in fear rather than on love and compassion.

It will be interesting to see how Karl and I choose to spend our evening tomorrow. Will we make it two weeknights in a row without watching the news? I doubt it.

I guess we’ll see.

In the meantime, I feel my responsibility in this moment is to not watch the news. Rather, it is to do whatever I need to do to keep the faith. To hold the center for anyone or anything I can, in order to help us all survive this onslaught of division, fear, and yes – terror.

Holding Our Center – In Grief – With Ritual and Respect

To that end, in case you haven’t seen this gut-wrenching and culturally unique (but pan-cultural in its impact upon us when we witness it) tribute to the grief being felt in New Zealand, I am offering it here.

I dare you to watch this young man and not be moved. I challenge you to witness these students performing this ancient ritual and not sense our common knowing, deep within our bones, that what is happening to one country or culture is happening to us all.

It is our responsibility to feel the tears of our souls, even if they express themselves as a lump in our throat or a clenching in our stomach. No matter how the tears show up for you, feel them. It is our responsibility – to ourselves and to each other.

(T-984)

Carol’s Chocolate Cake – Day 126

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Carol’s Chocolate Cake (with green icing to celebrate our Irish) – Photo: L. Weikel                                                                                       (Missing from Photo: A big glass of ice-cold milk)

Carol’s Chocolate Cake     

We had some pre-birthday cake tonight. My middle son’s birthday is this week, and even though we decided not to officially celebrate until next weekend, I baked him a chocolate cake with buttercream icing on it this weekend anyway. Just because.

The cake I baked today was the ‘official’ cake of my sons’ childhoods; my ‘go to’ cake recipe that I baked for birthdays (and only birthdays) for years and years.

Officially, in the household I grew up in, this cake was known as ‘Carol’s Chocolate Cake.’ This was not because my sister Carol came up with the recipe. In fact I doubt she even knows where the recipe originated. I’m sure I don’t know. But it was called Carol’s Chocolate Cake because she was the one who baked it.

This wildly popular darkly chocolate and seductive confection was a dessert we would have only on rare, celebratory occasions – although while I was growing up, this chocolate cake was not the official birthday cake.

NOT the Official Birthday Cake of My Youth

No, the official birthday cake while I was growing up was ‘Aunt Grace’s Cake.’

Inasmuch as I have 985 more posts to write in order to fulfill my 1111 Devotion commitment, I’m going to save a chitchat about Aunt Grace’s Cake for another post.

Although, truth be told, I really can’t talk about one without mentioning the other. You might think it odd that I did not carry on the legacy of having Aunt Grace’s Cake be ‘the’ birthday cake for my kids, but there are a couple of reasons why that happened.

How the ‘Official’ Designation Shifted

First and foremost, since my sister Carol is 13 years older than I, she grew up, went to college, and married well before I was out of the house. As a result, Carol was gone but the cake needed to be baked. And so I was tasked with becoming its baker. It was a recipe I ‘brought to the marriage,’ so to speak, and since I knew how to bake it from having taken up the reins when Carol grew up and moved to Massachusetts, and the recipe was easy, it became our official birthday cake.

The second reason was because Aunt Grace’s Cake was never one that was baked in our house. As can be gleaned from its name, it can also be deduced – and you would not be wrong in making that deduction – that it was baked at Aunt Grace’s house. Indeed, all I ‘knew’ about Aunt Grace’s Cake was that my mother would buy what seemed to be vast numbers of Hershey’s bars, walnuts, and eggs, and would drop them off at Aunt Grace’s house days before any of our birthdays.

I never saw the recipe, nor did I ever think I could master this feat of orgasmic culinary wizardry. This was mostly because my mother would just rave and rave over it – not once did she even feign an interest in baking it herself. (Smart woman, my mother.)

A Cake’s Daunting Legacy

As a result, I had it in my head for the longest time that it was something only an expert in the kitchen could bake. Or a Hungarian – as it was a recipe my Aunt Grace (who was an aunt by love and affection, not blood) had brought in her head as a child when she emigrated here from Hungary.

So I never even tried. Not until, oddly enough, about eight or nine years ago.

Instead, through pretty much the first 30 years of Karl’s and my marriage (and consequently our sons’ lives), I remained loyal to the achingly delicious, tried and true, now Aunt Carol’s Chocolate Cake. It was the official birthday cake of the Weikel household.

And I’ll tell you the secret to why this has always been exquisitely pleasing: it has a robust cup of coffee in it. Yum. So not only do you get the caffeine hit of cocoa, but also of coffee. Add sugar, butter and flour and you have a hit. But top it off with homemade buttercream icing?

Yeah, you get the picture.

An Impossible Choice

Fast forward to Son #2’s 31stbirthday: When asked which cake he wanted me to bake for his birthday (which again, he opted to celebrate next weekend, since it falls in the middle of the week), he asked for ‘the walnut cake’ – which is another name for Aunt Grace’s Cake.

I could tell from the lightning-quick looks that flashed between him and his wife that my son’s choice may have been slightly influenced by my daughter-in-law’s unabashed passion for Aunt Grace’s Cake. Not that any of us suffer for that selection, mind you. (Smart son I have.)

But what the heck.

Especially considering what I wrote about last night and the preciousness of making our ‘time’ count by virtue of the experiences with which we choose to fill it, I decided we all needed a pre-birthday fix of Aunt Carol’s Chocolate Cake.

Just for old times’ sake.

(T-985)

So Little Time – Day 125

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Buddha-Gandalf – Photo: L. Weikel

So Little Time

This isn’t a post about time. It’s a post about priorities.

As you no doubt figured out already, I actually had in my mind the phrase, “So many books,” when I wrote the title to this post. But I decided to go with the second half of that familiar phrase instead. Because as much as you might think this is about books, it isn’t.

Yet it is true. I am a bibliophile. I have enough books ‘sharing space’ with me at the moment that I could probably go without having the television on for at least five years – and I wouldn’t repeat a single volume. That’s a lot of books.

Which makes me wonder. Will I ever read all the stories and references and other materials I’ve stashed here in my home?

Will I Ever Read Them All?

I’ve started to doubt it. And that’s a strange realization.

It’s the same with the various gifts I’ve brought home from my travels, especially my forays to foreign countries.

I’ve always made it a point to buy things for the people I care about while I travel. Little mementos. Pieces or items that reminded me of the person at home, yet had specific relevance to the country of origin. And then, once I’ve been home, I’ve held on to many of those gifts. Not because I’ve kept them for myself. (Indeed, if that were the case, that might be selfish, but at least I’d be using them!)

No, for whatever strange reason I talked myself into thinking by the time gift-giving time rolled around, that what I’d purchased wasn’t ‘enough’ or it wasn’t appropriate. So I didn’t give it. And then I felt like too much time had elapsed and they would think I was really strange for giving them a gift from a country I’d visited a year or two (and now more, sometimes many more years) later. So many loving, caring, and generous-of-spirit thoughts gone to waste.

I’m not exactly sure what I want to do with that vector of contemplation, either.

But they are tied together.

How We ‘Spend’ Our Time Matters

Every time one of these horrific acts of violence takes place, I ponder the lives of the people gunned down and imagine that none of them anticipated their life would end when they went to the mosque, the church, or the synagogue that day. (Or to elementary school, middle school, high school, or college that day. Or to the gym. Or to the news office. Or to court.)

And yet, here we are.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter whether we pass away from too many six packs and chocolate chip cookies or the unlucky aim of a madman with gun. We’re here one day and not the next. (That is, of course, if we’re fortunate enough to have avoided the destiny of lingering and drawing out our passage to our next assignment.)

My point here is simply to observe that I have a lot of stuff in my home that I’ve been unintentionally collecting. Books I’ve been saving to read “when I have time.” Presents I know I will give “when I have time” to figure out how to explain the delay in giving them.

I barely “have time” to write a post each night. I’ve certainly not been “making time” to write anything beyond these posts. (Let me be clear though: I’m sincerely delighted that I’ve managed to write as many posts as I have so far.)

Yet all of a sudden, I’m finding myself face to face with TIME.

Do We Treasure It? Or Squander It?

How I use it; how I squander it. How I blithely seem to skip along each day, whistling in the face of the absolute guarantee that one of these days I won’t be here any more. And all the books and gifts and well-intentioned thoughts of how I intend to spend my time will be left hanging.

And while this fact of life (the inevitability of death) has always been with us – throughout time and space as we know it – I have this really itchy feeling at the edge of my consciousness that we’ve never squandered quite so much “time” as we are right now. As I am. (I can only speak for myself. I hope you’ll forgive me for that sweeping generalization.)

I want to read at least some of those books. (Not all of them. I must must must have a stash set aside in case our infrastructure is hacked and we are forced to live for a time – perhaps a very long time – without electricity.) (Funny, isn’t it? My idea of being a “prepper” is not to stockpile water or guns or food. It’s books, baby. Books.)

And I want to give away those gifts I’ve set aside from my travels. My intentions were loving and generous at the time I bought them. So I’m not going to care anymore if I look like a whack job for not having given them away as soon as I returned to the states.

I yearn to savor the experience of living. I want to immerse myself in the joy and struggle of creating and healing, teaching and reading, giving and reaching.

I want to savor my time. However much or little of it I have left.

(T-986)

Making Sense of it All – Day 124

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Photo: L. Weikel

Making Sense of it All

I didn’t see a lot of coverage of the student Climate Strikes here in the U.S., but I did see a lot of photos posted by friends and colleagues I know of events held around the world. I don’t watch any local or national news on television, so that might account for why I didn’t see a lot of coverage. (Hmmm.) I am nevertheless surprised I didn’t see anything posted on Facebook about local or national events.

In the meantime, we’re all distracted and horrified by the carnage that unfolded in New Zealand last night.

Hmm. Carnage. There’s a word…

Every day it seems there’s more to grieve. And more reason to find the love in our hearts, and then allow that love to simply be with our brothers and sisters in their time of suffering.

A Shift in Focus

So I want to shift our focus a bit, even if only for half an hour or so.

As you know, I’m fond of the field of astrology and, while barely a neophyte, I am trying to understand it more, bit by bit. (And perhaps dragging you along for the ride?) There are so many layers to it; it can be a bit overwhelming. Nevertheless, I will persist.

I had a pretty intense week this week (putting it mildly), so I didn’t get around to listening to my favorite weekly astrological forecast, the Pele Report, until today. I’ve referenced these before, and unfortunately, I worry you may have gotten the wrong impression of Tom Lescher (aka Kaypacha), due to the link I provided back in December. It wasn’t until too late that I realized the Report he’d given that week sort of went off on a tangent regarding sex that – I don’t know – was just distracting.

Some Excellent Reflections

When I watched the Pele Report for this week (the week of March 13th, 2019), I thought of all of you and my 1111 Devotion posts. I thought of you because I felt the information, and especially the wisdom and aspirational tone, he brought to this was precisely what I enjoy and value about his interpretations of the movements of our celestial companions and how they affect us.

So I urge you to give this a click and listen to Kaypacha. Heads up, though: I urge you to just allow for his description of all the various aspects that are taking place right now – don’t try to figure it out, and also don’t become overwhelmed or bogged down by it all and think that that’s how he’s going to speak throughout the report.

When he gets into the application of his knowledge to our human experience – wow.

Undulations of Lunar Energy

What I found particularly fascinating (and realized had played out these past two weeks in Karl’s and my life to a precision that was uncanny) was his description of the phases of the moon and how they can and often do mirror the ebbs and flows of our experiences. I’d never heard this undulation of lunar energy described in quite this way before, and I found it intriguing to consider. This is especially true for the specifics of the moon and its phases this month.

Another important aspect to his report this week was his reference to the differences between data and information, information and knowledge, knowledge and wisdom, and wisdom and enlightenment. We really need to get a handle on the differences between these concepts and not assume they are interchangeable – for they most definitely are NOT.

There’s a lot to be pondered here and I intend to explore it with you in posts to come.

Shedding the Past and Embracing Our New Selves

We are all being asked to embrace change, from the most personal considerations to shifts on a global scale. If we look around us and witness what’s going on, it’s hard to persist in thinking that we can maintain the status quo with impunity. No. We must embrace the change that is coming toward us from all over the place – but mostly (and most uncomfortably) from within.

We will all be a lot better off if, over the next several days, we each commit to engaging in some of the reflection and shedding of the past (and old beliefs and ways of being) that is being asked of us.

If we do this with thoughtfulness and awareness, and a sincere desire to understand ourselves better and quicken our expression of our true selves, I have no doubt we’ll arrive at the full moon and Equinox next week truly ready to surge into Aries and begin implementing some exciting new aspects to our lives.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-987)

Climate Strike – Day 123

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Climate Strike

This will be a quickie post. It’s actually more of a PSA (public service announcement).

Just in case you haven’t been paying attention to the many news stories that have been circulating recently, a Swedish teenager, Greta Thunberg, has inspired students around the world to participate in a “Climate Strike” tomorrow, Friday, March 15, 2019.

Greta herself, a sixteen year old, has been striking from school every Friday for months. She’s attained world-wide notoriety, even addressing the uber-wealthy and powerful at the Davos Forum in Switzerland this year, calling them out on their inaction regarding this most dire of emergencies facing our planet.

She’s even been nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize as a result of her astonishingly successful advocacy and activism.

I’m sure I would be thinking about this much more consciously if my sons were still in school. That’s not to say that I don’t fully support this action, because I absolutely do! In fact, I intend to show my support for the protest locally, in body and voice. I’m just saying that, had my kids still been at home (and undoubtedly participating tomorrow), I almost certainly would have written about this sooner because we would have been discussing it here at home every night.

Which is also another reason why I want to post about this tonight. If you don’t have a youngster in your household (now or ever), it’s possible this may have escaped your attention. It happens. It’s hard to keep up – so we have to stick together in this and make sure we don’t miss the big stuff.

In order to give just a little bit of a different perspective to this effort, I am providing a link to a post about this event that was just recently sent out by an organization that has a most unique approach to nature: Perelandra.

PSAs – Two for One!

I figure I’m providing two PSAs in one by writing this post on the Climate Strike.  Not only am I alerting you to the fact that the youth of the world are taking part in this monumental and historic mass protest demanding immediate action on climate change, but I’m also connecting you with an amazing organization that I’ve worked with for decades.

The essences and other products of Perelandra, similar but definitely different from Bach Flower Remedies, can improve your health and bring you into balance (internally and externally) with Nature. Even better, though, is the opportunity Perelandra affords us to learn how to speak directly with Nature and work with it consciously to heal Mother Earth (and as a result, ourselves). I’ve been a fan of Machaelle Wright (the founder of Perelandra) and her products for decades.

And in spite of how that paragraph you just read sounded so much like a damn info-mercial, I have no financial interest or stake in whether you buy anything from Perelandra.

I’m simply providing a link to Perelandra’s post on tomorrow’s Climate Strike because they put together a really great compilation of resources and alternatives you can participate in if you don’t get a chance to support the strike tomorrow.

I am moved and motivated by the incredible passion and commitment these young people are showing. Sadly, they know it’s up to them. My generation has failed and continues to fail them repeatedly, a turn of events that boggles my mind.

Let’s turn this thing around. Let’s get our country on the right path – joining the rest of the world in the battle of our life. We must not give in, give up, or lose sight of the fact that not only are we humans all ‘connected.’  We are actually all one world and one people.

I know we can do this.

(T-988)

Mercury Rx – Day 122

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Mercury Retrograde (Rx)

I had a nice start on a post tonight and just deleted it.

It was an incipient riff on all the glitches, slow-downs, and common irritations I’ve been experiencing on my laptops over the past few days, but especially today.

It’s no big deal, or rather, these hiccups shouldn’t and wouldn’t be all that remarkable except for the fact that I am achingly tired this evening.  As in, I can barely keep my eyes open as I try to write this quality tired.

March 6th – March 28th, 2019

Of course, anyone who is familiar with astrology would chime in that these glitchy annoyances are associated with the fact that “Mercury is retrograde.” As I described in my post a week ago, it is said that when Mercury goes retrograde, communications are often hung up, misunderstood, confused, or delayed, electronic devices tend to break or ‘go on the fritz,’ and it’s generally thought of as an inauspicious time to either buy electronic stuff or enter into contracts.

The reason behind this is that the planet Mercury is associated with communication and electronics. So when it is retrograde (which means the planet appears to be going backward in its orbit from the perspective of Earth), the attributes Mercury usually promotes tend to go awry.

I’ve never tracked this closely in my personal life, but I try to keep it in the back of my mind, simply as a form of cosmic good hygiene. And you may recall, I did have a bout of intense aggravation during the last Mercury Rx with my Dell laptop (resulting in my decision to use my MacBook Air for all posts since)!

If I can postpone buying an electronic item during the approximate three weeks that this astronomical situation takes place (three or four times a year, I believe), then I do so. I also try not to sign contracts unless it’s absolutely necessary, and bearing in mind the potentially cantankerous effects Mercury Rx can have on electronics in general, I tryto laugh when stuff randomly stops or slows to a snail’s pace. Or blips out. I’ll admit it: I said try. I didn’t say I’m successful.

Effect of My Weekend Reflections

A recommended strategy to deal with Mercury Rx is to focus on such activities as reviewing, revisiting, editing, and reflecting, instead of moving forward with new projects or initiating big changes. So I find it intriguing that I ended up engaging in the ‘reflections’ I did over the weekend. They were big for me. And I really feel like the act of expressing them ‘to the world,’ in a sense, liberated me.

For myself, that meant that I finally felt ready to move on to digging into reflections of another sort. I haven’t yet had a chance to perform this contemplation in the manner that I’d hoped because other people were engaging in their own re-enactment of dramas from years and years ago, and these happened to affect me personally.

Spiral of Evolution and Growth

As a result, I’ve been distracted. But I like to describe this process of facing the issues that come back to push our buttons again not as living life in a circle, but rather in a spiral. Being given an opportunity to deal with an issue again is like being given an opportunity for a ‘do over.’ The most practical approach to this spiral metaphor is to realize that we don’t go around in circles. Hopefully, we’ve raised our expression of our energy high enough that we approach the problem from a slightly, or perhaps greatly, shifted point of view.

Thus, we (hopefully) never repeat the exact same response to a challenge or an issue. We’ve evolved (again, hopefully). And so we’re given another bite at the apple; or looked at another way, another chance to choose a higher octave of response to our situation.

It feels as though I’ve been ‘holding space’ for a number of people, myself included, to experience this upward spiral toward growth.

As a result, I am in extraordinary need of reviewing and realigning myself with the comfort and wisdom of a clean set of sheets, the backs of my eyelids, and a long night of sleep.

There are some good stories brewing. I just have to watch some of them play out before I tell them.

Thanks for hanging in there with me. I hope your personal reflections are yielding powerful insights and affirming the evolution we all hope to see and feel in our lives.

Rooting and Reflecting; Photo: L. Weikel

(T-989)

 

Onion Snows and Messages – Day 121

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Onion Snows and Messages          

I’m ready for spring.

Yeah, I know. Join the crowd, Lisa.

We’ve not even had a hard winter (in my opinion), and yet I’m ready for the curtain to be lowered on it. In fact, I think we got off pretty easily this year. Yeah, we may have one more good snowstorm (and when I say ‘good’ I mean really good – like over a foot of snow at least). But even if we do get a couple more snowstorms before our patience is rewarded with an abundance of colors and sounds, buzzes and buds, they’ll probably just be ‘onion’ snows.

That makes me smile. Do people even use that term anymore? Obviously, it was coined to describe one of those snowstorms in late March through mid April that might leave a couple of inches on the ground, but which melts by mid-day. It’s called an ‘onion’ snow because it serves as an insulating blanket and then watering system for one of the earliest crops of the season: onions.

Wow.

From Onion Snows to Car Stories

You can tell I don’t feel like talking about ponderous topics tonight. Ha – I’m so transparent! I can’t hide anything from you guys.

I do have another car story for you, but I’m not going to tell it tonight. My Prius employed creative license and a rather impressive dramatic flair yesterday to bring home an admonition I’ve received recently from a variety of messengers. I mean: you can’t make this stuff up.

But I need to give it a few days to settle in before I write about it.

Perhaps I’m feeling a need to formally acknowledge receipt of the message before I go talking about it? I’m not sure.

Some Obvious Messages and Some Painful Ones

I actually feel like I’ve been bombarded with messages lately. Some have been obvious. Some have been painful and potentially life-path changing. Given what unfolded yesterday, I’m guessing that Spirit was assuming I wasn’t listening. And truth be told, maybe I was blowing them off.

It can be distressing to have Spirit ‘call you on your shit.’

Which makes me wonder why it’s sometimes so hard to do what we know we should do; need to do; must do. It’s especially vexing when the thing we’re being told we should do, need to do, must do is something we yearn to do.

What’s With the Desire for Comfort?

That tells me that it must be more comfortable to be in a somewhat dark place, hunkering down fearfully, worried about the implications of what might happen if we listen to the messages, than it is to just burst up out of the darkness and do something different.

Perhaps it is comfortable. Yeah, I can see that maintaining the status quo can produce a rut that’s familiar, if nothing else. Perhaps not snuggly comfortable, but known.

Onion Snow? Or Avalanche.

Yet I yearn to listen, to poke through my resistance like the first green blades of crocus and daffodil leaves that revealed themselves today from under the crusted, dirty snow of last week. But I don’t know if I can do it.

I was all psyched Sunday night. I saw what I’d unwittingly achieved for liberation of my own awareness, and I could taste the possibility of implementing some of the messages I’ve been receiving (from inner and outer messengers). And then it all shut down.

Maybe what fell on my head was just an onion snow. Or maybe it was a freaking avalanche. I’m not sure yet.

(T-990)

Fruit of My Contemplation – Day 120

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Revealing and Rejecting the Shame

Shame is quite a word, isn’t it? It’s even more ‘quite’ a feeling, quite an insidious corrosive force, especially when left in the dark.

I mentioned in yesterday’s post that I was surprised when I realized, through writing and then re-reading my posts on International Women’s Day and then its Part 2, that shame was bubbling up to the surface.

When thinking about the way things unfolded in my life, especially career-wise, I’d felt lost of different feelings over the years. Frustration. Anger. Disappointment. Irritation. Aggravation. Indignation.

But I can honestly say, before this past weekend, I don’t think I ever realized that shame was the foundation upon which all of those other emotions stood.

At the root of shame (for me): dishonor

Dictionary.com (that august resource) defines shame as follows: “1. the painful feeling arising from the consciousness of something dishonorable, improper, ridiculous, etc., done by oneself or another.” “3. disgrace; ignominy.”

And further, defines ignominy as follows: “1. disgrace, dishonor, public contempt; 2. shameful or dishonorable quality or conduct, or an instance of this.”

Shame Borne of Dishonor

And there it was: the common word contained in the definitions of both of those terms: dishonor.

It is only now that I realize that a deep and abiding wound I’ve been carrying around and occasionally picking at within myself over my career in the law (particularly those early years) was shame borne of dishonor.

While I did not go to law school with the primary motivation of becoming wealthy, I was aware that lawyers generally appear to make comfortable livings. You’d have to have lived under a rock not to have that association drilled into your head through media, including television and movies.

So when I was treated with the disrespect I described earlier, by members of a profession that I (idealist that I was – and still am) held in high esteem, I somehow, deep down, felt like I’d failed. I’d brought dishonor upon myself, for it had to be my fault. My failing. Particularly regarding the compensation I was paid.

The most profound realization I made over the past 24-48 hours, however, was the realization that I’ve been carrying around a sense of having dishonored my birth family, my husband and sons, and – this was the biggest surprise – my sisters, by not living up to my highest potential. Not necessarily my blood sisters, but most definitely all the women who had fought hard for our rights, including my right to pursue a legal education in particular.

I’m astonished to realize that I’ve been carrying around the weight of believing that I failed my feminist forebears.

Too Close To See It and Think I Could Change It?

How outrageous is it that I was not only highly educated but also employed in the profession that works with the laws of the land – and yet I permitted myself to be walked over so easily. If I didn’t speak up, who would?

And how shameful was it that my husband worked to put me through law school – and I had so little to show for it? Surely I should be able to do something about that?!!

The bottom line was that I dishonored and therefore brought shame upon my family and my feminist forbears (literal and figurative) by not fighting hard enough.

Secrecy Was Corrosive

I honestly feel it was important for me to tell the truth of how I and women like me were treated in the legal profession when we were getting started. On the one hand, it was only 35 years ago! And on the other, it was 35 freaking years ago!

No, it doesn’t change what happened. But it just might help young women to know now that we never achieved that equality we so blithely think we have. And by keeping all of the indignities we suffered quiet and hidden from ourselves and each other, we’ve allowed this inequality to persist.

Ideally the ones coming up next will learn from this to stand their ground. Hopefully they won’t be so polite as to consciously decide not to speak up. They’ll use their voices and their power to demand equality. The men in our lives deserve to have us being compensated well for what we do. Compensated and treated equally to the men with whom we work.

By revealing my secret shame of not demanding better (equal) treatment, of permitting myself to be exploited, I have stolen its power. I am free to write about the path my life took that changed it forever. Because now, what needed to be said first has been said.

We must choose to reject the shame.

(T-991)