The title to this post is actually an inside joke with someone who may or may not even read it. But I suspect it’ll be read, so I’m going to leave it.
Karl and I came across these exquisite blooms today on our walk. I was surprised – we’d walked past these clumps of green and white striped leaves for a couple weeks now, and I never had the slightest inkling they were irises – until today. I’d actually thought/assumed (always dangerous, I know) that they were just some type of pretty ornamental grasses.
So when we came upon them today, I had to celebrate their beauty and take their photo. They were simply too pretty not to share.
But then, when I walked up to the blossoms and took their photo, I was amazed.
Take a look at this closeup:
“Dragon” Iris – Photo: L. Weikel
This stunning flower is the spitting image of a fire-breathing dragon. And as soon as I saw this Dragon staring me in the face, I exclaimed with delight and knew I would share it with you this evening.
I chose Raven ‘squared’ today (once again, meaning I had a ‘blank’ card on the bottom of the deck when I chose Raven – upright, as it happened – on my day). Raven, as I’ve elaborated upon in a variety of posts (here, here, and here, to name just a few), is all about magic.
I’ll admit that I made some decisions today that have a somewhat magical tinge to them, and I even had some magical conversations, too. But when I looked at that iris head on, face-to-face, as it were, through my iPhone’s lens, I was bowled over by the face of the dragon staring back at me. And while I see it breathing fire, I also sensed it’s a tad playful and may even be laughing at me.
And all of this reminded me of a certain Dahlia I know; a courageous, ferocious – and most definitely magical – beast… And I had to laugh at the floral ambiguity I could playfully create in this post.
As we begin a new week, may you find the magic in your life – and don’t be surprised if it’s hiding in plain sight.
I was feeling kind of bad tonight that I am so freaking tired and sore. It just seems like no matter how much I walk, day in and day out, I still tire a lot more quickly than I remember ever doing before. While I’m trying not to judge or speak to myself harshly, it is a bit disconcerting, and it takes discipline not to feel disappointed in myself.
For the most part, I’ve been maintaining my walking regimen that I began right around my birthday. Yesterday, though, I barely registered any mileage, since I had a session with a client.
I tried to bounce right back onto the wagon today, though, clocking in 6.3 miles.
The First Leg
Spartacus and I did an initial 4.1 on our own.
Among some of the fascinating things he found to smell, explore, and ‘mark’ on our journey today, we did spot this evidence of a raccoon passing through.
Raccoon passing through – Photo: L. Weikel
About 20 minutes after our return, Karl came in and wanted to do our usual walk. Since I hadn’t taken Sheila on the 4.1, we knew it would be best for all of us to take her out and at least ‘do the two.’
I’m so glad we did! Not only were the clouds and colors of the sunset beyond compare, the lightning bugs were coming into their glory tonight. It was so great to walk through the woods at High Rocks and watch them rise from the forest floor. Of course, they were also rising from the meadows, too, as our path took us from forest tunnel to open fields and back again.
But as I started saying at the outset of this post, I was really feeling a bit disappointed in myself for feeling so tired.
Until I took a look at Spartacus. He sacked out like this as soon as we walked in the door. Looks like he is every bit as tuckered out as I am. Weird, perhaps, but I took comfort in this.
A tuckered Spart (with friends watching his back) – Photo: L. Weikel
I’m grateful my body can carry me around the countryside, logging 6.3 miles on a gorgeous Saturday. And I hope and expect to get up tomorrow and walk some more. I’m on the cusp of making some changes and this walking is clarifying and solidifying some choices for change that are a long time coming.
When rogue elements anywhere ruin it for everybody, that’s the refrain. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
And that’s precisely how I’m feeling about the wildlife on our property.
Somebody – some “body” – ruined it for everyone.
We recently received a cool new feeder from Karl’s sister, Francine. The way in which it assembles and disassembles allows a solid cylinder of bird food to be mounted on a central post. The seeds are held together with some kind of a sticky substance and it takes the birds a while – usually a good month – to gnaw (or more accurately peck) away at it.
Photo: L. Weikel
Although perhaps ‘gnaw’ is not as inaccurate as I’d like.
And from the looks of things, it appears birds are not the only ones frequenting the feeders – especially the new ones. Not only is the aforementioned cylinder feeder new, so is the accordion-like coil dispenser for peanuts, which the blue jays, woodpeckers, and fish crows have been working on mastering all week.
But now – I don’t know.
See for yourself the appalling manners exercised by some “body.” (And apparently a heavy body, at that, looking at the arc of that wrought iron pole.)
That’s why we can’t have nice things. Somebody has to get greedy and ruin it for everyone.
All things considered? My bets are on Raccoons. (Although I know for sure that deer have been standing around the other feeders – not shown – and literally sucking the seeds out of them as if they’re Pez dispensers.)
Now I just have to decide whether to give them another chance.
Even though he doesn’t read, he knew. He knew he was being read about, thought about, and admired from afar. He knew people were talking about how handsome a boy he is.
And he likes it.
He likes the attention. Being a very metaphysical cat, he knows energy follows intention. So he could feel all of you energetically stroking his lustrous coat from afar. He could sense your scratches underneath his chin and around his ears. He could hear you murmuring gently in his ear, “Tigger, Tigger. You’re such a good boy. Such a good kitty.”
Seduction
It’s all so seductive, you know.
He won’t leave me alone now. He’s perched here on the arm of the couch as I try to write a new post. It’s as if he won’t get out of my mind. “It’s about me again, right Mommy?” he asks.
Tigger! Stop asking for, for—
Ugghhh. He wants more.
More attention. More photos. More soft food.
Oh yeah. Here it comes. The look. Those eyes…
Ok, I get it. Sure. Yep. Well, it’s not as if we couldn’t have seen where this was headed.
I’ve written a lot about the importance of words. The impact words have on shaping our reality is huge and filled with responsibility.
Often we do not fully realize the power of our words until we witness first-hand how we often manifest, quite literally, usually, precisely what we tend to repeat over and over in our everyday conversations.
Anyone who’s spent any significant amount of time with me knows how I tend to pay attention to the words that come out of people’s mouths. Because I was taught manifestation techniques early on in my metaphysical studies (I’m talking back in the late 80’s here – yikes), I’ve tried to live my life with awareness of what comes out of my mouth.
Words Hold Power
As a result, we also taught our sons the power of words and encouraged them to take responsibility for what comes out of their mouths. And for the most part, they tend to be careful in the words they choose (OK, with maybe some profanity not getting ‘canceled,’ since, well… I don’t know. Bad example?)
But it wasn’t until our youngest son adopted a cat about four years ago that we all learned just how powerful names are, too.
While in college, Sage adopted a mature cat from an adoption agency associated with a local pet food and supply store. He immediately dubbed the cat “Wally,” after a friend’s cat he’d known who had a similar laid back attitude and luxuriously soft coat.
Wally was obviously pleased to have been liberated from his caged existence. He was always happy to see Sage when he’d get back from class, and he was a welcome addition to Sage’s life, for the most part.
But after a month or two, Wally seemed a little different than when he’d first been adopted. He became noticeably more shy. He would duck when anyone reached out to pet him, as if he might get hit. And while he was always glad when Sage returned to his room, he was starting to hide in places and not come out unless we went looking for him.
Within another month, Sage was frustrated and it was discovered by housekeeping that he was harboring a four-legged, which wasn’t exactly within the rules of the residence in which he was living.
Happy to Reclusive
“Mom?”
As soon as I heard the precise tone and inflection of that “Mom?” I knew I was going to be asked to cat-sit. Of course, I was right. Within days, Wally was delivered.
We all started giving Sage a hard time, because this cat was such an anti-social beast. Indeed he almost rivaled our psycho-kitty, Precious. But he didn’t howl or act bizarre. No, Wally simply hid. We teased Sage as to why in the world he picked him out to adopt. Sage swore he hadn’t acted like that when he’d visited the cat in the store several times before taking the plunge.
That may have been the case, but he wouldn’t come out from under beds. At all. He didn’t sleep with us. He never seemed to be in the same room as us. We didn’t even see him at mealtime. We knew he must be eating after our other cats ate their fill, but they weren’t fighting. Wally was in full-blown avoidance mode.
Annoyed Tigger – What’s with this “Wally” garbage? – Photo: L. Weikel
Pleading with his eyes
When I would occasionally have a chance to talk to him one-on-one and pet him and scratch under his ears, I started noticing a really weird vibe from him when I would call him by his name; when I would coo “Sweet Wallys” in his ear. He looked like he was pleading with his eyes for me to figure something out. Something that would ease his pain.
I started mentioning to Karl (Sage was back at school by this time) that I felt like he didn’t like being called Wally. I told Karl the cat got a weird look in his eyes when I’d call him by that name.
(Karl gave me a weird look when I said this to him; so I was getting weird looks from everybody.) But still, weeks went by, and Wally was very seriously miserable and reclusive.
Eventually, it was time for us to take Wally in for his booster shots. Sage brought home Wally’s paperwork so I could provide his history to our vet. There, in the paperwork, I discovered Wally’s PRIOR name – the name he’d had when he was left at the shelter: Tigger.
Tigger it was!
I swear to you: as soon as I saw that name on his paperwork, I turned to the cat and asked him if that was his name. Tigger’s eyes lit up. His body language, which I’d not realized was the equivalent of hunched shoulders, immediately relaxed.
That cat morphed before my eyes into his true self: his Tigger self.
It turns out he’s extremely affectionate and wildly astute in understanding when you’re calling him by his correct name. He gained weight; his fur took on a sheen and softness that is irresistible. And he can now be anywhere in our house – and if I call his name, “Heeeeeeeere, Tiggety Tig!” he comes running. To me. A cat. Running to me when I call his name.
It’s been a long time now since he came to live with us. He’s part of the family now.
But one thing I can tell you is that he will always and forever love me like no other. Because I figured out how to call him by his ‘real’ name.
I’m pleased to report that the golden dragonfly that appeared yesterday on my walk, and which I featured in yesterday’s post, did indeed bring some welcome magic to my dear friends’ loved one. There’s a light in someone’s eyes and a smile on someone’s face today that are most welcome indeed. (And yes, for those of you who are grammar hounds, I did in fact correctly use the plural possessive, above, because I consider many members of the family of my friend to whom I listened last night to also be my friends.)
In less dramatic news, I’ve had Deer showing up for that past couple of days in my Medicine Card®picks. A major trait of Deer is gentleness.
And They Kept Showing Up
I’ll admit it: I sort of blew off that I chose Deer twice in a row. (Technically, yesterday I actually chose it reversed, but today it was upright.) I guess I wasn’t seeing any situations in which gentleness might be appropriate. It’s not as if I’m some wildly aggressive person anyway. At least I don’t perceive myself to be such.
And then I started reflecting on just how many deer I saw on my walk yesterday. I believe there were five or six, with two of them actually standing beside the road watching me approach them. Another appeared to be a fawn hunkered down in the middle of a field. If you look closely, you can see its little brown head:
Fawn hiding – Photo: L. Weikel
Mind you, all of these encounters took place while I was walking two Boston Terriers. And yes, we all know that Sheila is blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other, and has hearing issues to boot, but the deer don’t know that! (Or do they?) And even if they do, Spartacus is always a wild card. Well, OK, after celebrating his 11thbirthday on Monday, I think he officially shelved even the most remote thoughts of chasing deer about six years ago!
Again, though, do the deer know that?
Gentleness? Really?
So when I chose Deer again today, and reflected on all the deer I saw yesterday, I realized that perhaps I need to extend a little bit of gentleness to myself.
Ugh. I hate even writing that. I don’t need gentleness. I need to get more accomplished! I need to work harder! See more people; write more; schedule more retreats!
Yeah, you get the idea. So maybe that’s why I saw at least 15 deer today. Most of them were peeking up at me from places they were nestled in the fields. This surprised me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many deer obviously in repose, poking their heads up above the waving grasses just to look at me. Even as I walked beside a forest, I gazed inside and saw this one laying down too!
Deer hunkered down in the forest – Photo: L. Weikel
Not sure how I’m supposed to take this and apply it to my life. But perhaps I’ll close now and hunker down in my own bed. I do know I am incredibly lucky to be able to take walks where I am surrounded by beauty such as this. Deer for the win, too!
Today was the new moon. So tonight, it is dark but for the light of the stars, which sometimes can feel very far away.
My post tonight is short. That’s because I’ve been listening.
Today was a hard day for a lot of people. I didn’t realize quite how hard until late this evening, when I heard from a couple of dear friends.
I could do nothing for either of them but listen. And even that ability could only go so far, especially with the situation I just became aware of within the hour.
While one friend’s day just went from bad to worse, with insensitivity, confrontation, and uncharacteristic lack of appreciation and kindness in her face, the other friend is profoundly worried about a young family member whose health is in great peril.
All I could do was listen.
And send love.
The dragonfly above was on my walk today. I’ve never seen a golden dragonfly before. Maybe there’s some magic left? I hope so.
I know lightning bugs are just coming into ‘season.’ Just last weekend while sitting outside on a friend’s lawn I noticed a couple shyly blinking in the nearby woods. They must have been hearty souls, though, for I think they were quite lonely. The rest of their kin were still staying warm wherever fireflies like to cuddle.
When I was at Amadell in North Carolina two weeks ago, fireflies were just starting to rise up from the grasses. Our hosts excitedly regaled us with stories of synchronous fireflies, a phenomenon in which thousands of lightning bugs gather in swarms and flash – you guessed it – in synchrony. It sounds utterly magical; sort of like a natural form of a fireworks grand finale.
Making this spectacle even more unique as a prized experience, the bugs only offer this performance for about one to two weeks each late spring/early summer. The Smoky Mountains National Park actually has an annual lotteryfor tickets to view this amazing phenomenon.
Listening Retreat – June 2020
Since I’m pretty sure the fireflies aren’t aware of where the National Park boundaries are located, I’m thinking this could be an excellent reason for me to offer a Listening Retreat at Amadell next year during the first week in June! Anyone want to join me?
It just so happens that in 2012, this particular type of lightning bug that engages in this synchronous behavior was discovered in western Pennsylvania! If you might find it a little easier to make a road trip to Allegheny National Forest, you should check out this link.
Today’s Catalyst
You might be wondering what prompted me to write about this tonight. It’s the appearance of the handsome fella whose photo is both above and below.
While I was sitting on our porch this morning having coffee with Karl and picking our cards, I noticed this guy walking on an end table. I recognized his distinctive coloring immediately and knew, from memories of many a collection in a mason jar with holes poked into the top with a screwdriver, that he was a lightning bug.
When I grabbed my phone and took his photo, I was taken by his gorgeous coloring and knew in an instant I’d be sharing this with you. This creature is too beautiful to be ignored.
I’m sure this will not be the last post I write about lightning bugs. When it gets a little warmer here in Pennsylvania, they will put on a show that rivals many a Christmas light village extravaganza. And I know I’ll write about them again because of how much I love them.
But before I do, I hope you will appreciate their beauty even without abdomens that flash seductively – and occasionally synchronously – in the summer air.
I gave myself permission today to sit with a book for about half an hour on our porch.
This afternoon, Karl and I managed to slog through the muck that was formerly known as our lawn, shearing it closely enough that – if we’re lucky and the sun shines tomorrow – it just might start to dry out. Of course, I say that, but then I checked the Weather Channel just now and see that there’s an 80% chance of thunderstorms over the next four hours.
It’s been relentless.
Dipping Into a New Book
But I began telling you about my chance to sit down to read for a few precious minutes once the lawn was mowed. I have to admit, it was idyllic. The late afternoon sun cast a golden-rosy glow on everything it touched and the wrens and robins were belting out their greatest hits.
Even though I’ve been reading and thoroughly enjoying another volume I know I’ll be talking to you about in the days and weeks to come, this afternoon I dipped into a book I mentioned several days ago: Walking – One Step at a Time * by the Norwegian author Erling Kagge.
Oh my, it is a delicious indulgence.
Clearly this author appreciates walking to a depth that can probably only be celebrated by others who also walk. OK, maybe others who walk and write (albeit not at the same time). That’s because reading his words simultaneously made my heart quicken with joy and my brain want to mark my page and set off on a long walk myself.
Defining Our Reality Through the Prism of Walking
To give you an example, just to start us out, he describes how walking is fundamental to distinguishing us (humans) from everyone else with whom we share the planet, and how walking took us away from the familiar and opened up entirely new vistas to us. The greatest vista, perhaps, is that of language, which captures the essence of culture.
I love what Kagge says on page 6:
“Human languages reflect the idea that life is one single, long walk. In Sanskrit, one of the world’s oldest languages, originating from India, the past tense is designated as the word gata, “that which we have walked,” and the future is anāgata, “that which we have not yet walked.” This word gata is related linguistically to the Norwegian word gått, meaning “walked.” In Sanskrit, the present is indicated by something as natural as “that which is directly in front of us,” pratyutpanna.”
I find the concept of defining our reality through the prism of walking, relating our concept of time to what we’ve already walked and that which we’ve yet to, both comforting and somehow, eerily, precisely correct.
Tohickon Creek, swollen with spring rainfall – Photo: L. Weikel
A lot of people seem to think about life in terms of circles. “What goes around comes around,” for instance, is a fairly common phrase.
Based on my experience, though, and the details of my life I sort of relentlessly try to track, I’m more inclined to think about life in terms of spirals.
For instance, let’s say we experience something uncomfortable, perhaps a form of harassment at our workplace, and we deal with it by feeling ashamed, hiding ourselves away in our cubicle, and trying to make ourselves invisible.
Then, ten years later, you suddenly encounter a situation that’s nearly a carbon copy of that first situation.
Another Pass on the Hamster Wheel?
Some people would perceive this as circular: we believe we’re being subjected to the same situation because we didn’t get it right the first time. Can you hear and feel the judgment and self-criticism in this approach? I hear it; and I’ve felt it, too.
And I’ve learned that I don’t want to look at the situation that way. I prefer to see it as an opportunity to put into action the skills I’ve cultivated and the understandings about myself and life and just people in general that I’ve learned over the past ten years.
So after working at two other companies and seeing, experiencing, and learning about all sorts of other situations, observing how others handled those issues, and recognizing that what you’d experienced ten years earlier was not, in fact your ‘fault’ simply because you are a particular gender, you have a remarkably similar experience to the one ten years ago. And you respond in a completely different manner. In fact, you respond in a way you would never have dreamed you’d respond ten years ago.
Awareness of the Spiral
If I’m able to remain aware enough in my life to recognize a pattern coming back to me on my spiral, I feel challenged and maybe even a little bit eager to see how I’ve hopefully raised my awareness and cultivated my personal power enough to meet the situation from a place of grace or at least compassion and understanding of myself and others.
As I write this, especially when I read that last sentence, above, I realize I may be sounding way more lofty and a lot more pompous than I feel.
Trust me when I say that I aspire to greet certain situations that are ‘returning to me on the spiral’ with more grace, understanding, and compassion – but that doesn’t mean I succeed.
Closed Circuits of Circular Experience
And yet…I am never, ever the same person who experienced a situation one moment and then a remarkably similar one some time later (or had an encounter with the same person pushing our buttons, for instance). We are never the same from one moment to another – so it is almost impossible to be stuck in a closed circuit of circular experience.
Even though it is nearly impossible for us to be stuck in a ‘closed circuit of circular experience,’ we can choose to look at our repeated experiences as bad luck. Or we can develop a belief system that tells us that everybody is out to screw us. In essence, we can choose not to change or learn.
I recently realized that Karl and I are currently dealing with a number of life experiences that have eerily similar hallmarks of many situations we encountered thirty years ago. We’re flirting with feelings, looking at opportunities, and responding to challenges that are astonishingly similar to those we dealt with thirty years ago.
Every Day We Get to Choose
Did we learn anything from how we walked through those experiences three decades ago? Have we shifted, evolved, regressed, closed down, or expanded our awareness since then?
Each day – sometimes from one moment to the next – we get to choose. Are we on a hamster wheel? Or are we ascending a spiral that teaches us new aspects about ourselves and who we are, that gives us an opportunity to transform our lives by responding differently to similar situations or applying concepts we’ve embraced in the interim?
