The 15 year celebration at Medicine in Balance today was an unqualified success. Balmy weather, scrumptious food, and remarkable entertainment by Ryan Sabalaske all added up to create a fitting tribute to the longevity of this unique medical practice.
The best part about the afternoon, though, was the opportunity to catch up with friends and clients I’ve not seen in years.
Numerology Course
I did manage to get home in time to take a walk with Karl before my final numerology class with Alison Baughman. What a great course. Probably the one major downer about taking the course, though, is the fact that , without a doubt, I’m now going to be even worse than I ever was before about internally ‘doing the math’ to figure out the numerological status of practically everything I encounter.
What’s fascinating about that is the power of simple observation. That’s the most reliable method anyone can use to bring to light correlations and discover whether there’s any correspondence between the numbers and the traits or characteristics of the subject of study.
Karl, Sheila, Spartacus, and I did managed to snag a quick walk around before the start of my class. It was during this walk that I noticed the marked shift in cricket song that marks the turning of the season. One of the biggest ‘tells’ to the shifting of seasons is, indeed, the song of the crickets.
Crickets
If you pay attention, you’ll notice that crickets rarely sing their usual staccato ‘cree-deets’ once the seasons start to change. Instead, it’s as if the crickets press their internal cricket button and they get stuck. Suddenly, we’re all living amidst one long chirp.
Even as I sit here now, with our front door open to let in some cool night air, the droning intonation created by the elder crickets is mesmerizing. While I love the sounds of the crickets and the occasional katydid punctuating the night, it’s unmistakably the beginning of the season of letting go.
Before I go to sleep, I must share with you the photo I took this evening of the wild flowers I took tonight. Sometimes I just have to marvel at the sheer perfection of Mother Earth’s palette.
Yet again, I’m closing a post feeling awash in gratitude for so very many seemingly tiny but tremendously moving miracles in my life. The fact that you’re reading this post being one of them. Thank you.
Tomorrow afternoon, from 1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m., a celebration will be taking place at 940 Town Center Drive in Langhorne, PA – a celebration of Medicine in Balance.
Fifteen years ago, Wendy Warner, M.D. gave birth to Medicine in Balance, a unique, cutting-edge medical practice bringing integrative and holistic medical and energetic modalities of healing to the Bucks County area and beyond. And I do mean beyond, as people travel from the Poconos, from across Pennsylvania, and from states all up and down the eastern seaboard to see Dr. Warner. Indeed, patients come to Medicine in Balance not only from across the country, but also from other countries, including Mexico and across Canada.
In the midst of all the rough stuff “out there” that almost everyone’s been feeling lately, this is an opportunity to come and celebrate vibrant, balanced health of body, mind, and spirit.
Come to our open house tomorrow and meet Dr. Warner and the other practitioners that make this practice so unique.
There will be all sorts of fun stuff to do, as well as goodies to win (including gift certificates), and modalities to learn about or sample.
Something Really Cool
One of the highlights as far as cool and eclectic things to experience is Dr. Warner’s acquisition of a plant singing box. Developed in an intentional community in Italy, Damanhur, this ‘instrument’ connects to live plants and translates their electrical impulses into notes that sound like music.
Wildflowers – Photo: L. Weikel
You’ll also learn more about the sauna that’s on the premises, see (and maybe even ‘feel’) demonstrations of some of the modalities offered, and get the chance to snag some discounted supplements and perhaps other treats.
This is your chance to mingle and chat with MIB staff and practitioners, getting to know us on a more personal basis, while snacking on some great food, sharing in the lovely fall weather, and enjoying wonderful music provided by Ryan Sabalaske.
Come out tomorrow! Stop by and congratulate Dr. Warner on 15 years of providing the community with an amazingly wide array of healing modalities all under one roof.
I know I’m grateful for the opportunities she’s provided me to connect with some amazing clients who’ve taught me so much.
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?
Old Photo of Red Triangle of Death – Photo: L. Weikel
Quick Update on Good Girl
Yeah…you guys have probably all forgotten my encounters with the Red Triangle of Death (aka the RToD or RT of D) back in the early months of this year. I’ll bet you may even have thought I was referring to Sheila with that title. She’s not a good girl! (Just kidding…but I am still miffed with her for going on walkabout yesterday.)
Actually, I’d pretty much forgotten all about the RToD as well. My Prius, aka “Good Girl,” has been driving like a champ since we finally got her correctly diagnosed back in March.
It’s funny how that works. I don’t know about you, but I don’t hang on to stuff much. OK, maybe sometimes. For a day or two. But lest you think I’m some chill person who walks through life forgiving every transgression and beatifically bestowing blessings on everyone who crosses my path: NO. That’s not what I mean.
By ‘not hanging on to stuff,’ I mean when something is awry in my life, I’m on it. I’m all about rooting out its source, exposing it to the light, cleaning it out, and healing it. That goes for painful or uncomfortable issues or experiences in my life, such as feeling the intense aggravation and anxiety that comes when your car suddenly screeches out a hellacious beep and flashes a bright red triangle (with an exclamation point within it, just to drive home the point that it’s an emergency! OMG!), and then piles on with a ‘check engine’ light appearing on your dashboard.
In other words, once Thompson Toyota took care of my RToD, I was a happy camper. I did not give the RToD a single additional thought. Nope. I did not waste even one more brain cell on retaining that terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach when that sucker would, out of the blue, resurface on my dashboard.
It’s Been Six Months
I’ve been screech and RToD-free for six months. In some cultures, that would at least earn me a sticker or something. Better than any sticker, though, it bestowed upon me utter peace of mind.
There’s nothing better than getting into a car upon which you owe no car payments, having it start up like a charm, and even better, drive like a dream. I have to say (as I’ve said before): I love my Prius.
So imagine that diarrhea feeling I got when, shortly after leaving NYC after seeing The Hu, as it was closing in on midnight and we were barreling home along Route 78, all of a sudden <<EEEEEE>> the RToD and its accompanying screech lit up the dashboard and grated on my ears.
“Uuuuuugggghhhh,” I groaned out loud to Karl. “Not again.”
This had to be related to the extremely unpleasant experience on the drive to NYC earlier that evening when my air conditioning suddenly stopped blowing cold air. It was blowing all right, but without any ‘conditioning;’ it was simply issuing forth bland, mid-temperature air. My heart sank when that happened, but I’d let it go, figuring (a) it’s almost winter anyway; and (b) maybe it just needed to be ‘charged.’ I’d definitely decided I wasn’t going to worry about it.
Loss of Power
And then – adding insult to injury, as we were in the middle of nowhere at that point, a no-man’s-land between Newark and the intersection of I-78 and I-187 – my car suddenly stopped accelerating.
“Ooooooooh, this isn’t good,” I said to Karl as I put my clicker on and pulled into the far right hand lane. “All of a sudden she’s not accelerating anymore.”
“Oh great,” was Karl’s scintillating response as the Prius gradually started slowing down.
“Well, wait,” I said. I couldn’t discern what the difference was, but now it felt like it might be sustaining power. Not accelerating, but no longer losing power either.
We were both quiet for a few minutes as we remained in the ‘slow lane’ and let the Prius have a little breathing room.
RToD Strikes Again
Lucky for us, it didn’t reiterate that hiccup of power again. We made it home Tuesday night, no longer experiencing any further deceleration or ‘loss of power.’ And I have no explanation whatsoever of what that was about. But that doesn’t mean we escaped the RToD. Oh no. Nope.
The RToD screeched at us intermittently the entire drive home. And the ‘check engine’ light that went on never went out again. It was definitely there to stay.
So tomorrow, I have an appointment. I’m really hoping for another miracle. It’s amazing how quickly I forgot all those awful feelings around thinking and fearing my car might be on its last legs. I guess there’s a lot to be said for being ‘in the moment.’
Just one of those things, I guess. We never know when the RToD is going to come screeching back into our lives.
“I AM a Good Girl, Mommy!” – Photo: L. Weikel, Attitude: All Sheila
As many of you know, we are Lords and Masters of two Boston Terriers, Sheila and Spartacus.
Yeah, right. If you believe that, you’ve never had a Boston in your life.
In truth, Sheila and Spartacus rule the roost. The cats, Precious, Tigger, and Cletus, would probably dispute that declaration, but I’m going to stand by it for now.
Sheila is my pride and joy. (Oh man, I can’t write a single such sentence without feeling guilty that I’m not including all of them in my praise. It’s ridiculous, the hold they have over me in my desire that they all feel loved and cherished. They’re worse than my kids.)
Walkabout – AGAIN
As I wrote about in my Declaration post, Sheila has recently taken to heading out on her own for a walk should we take too long getting our show on the road. This has created some serious freak outs on our part, since traffic on our country roads can be brutal. Not only are people not expecting a little black and white to be trotting up the road by herself, they’re usually barreling along at a good clip themselves.
Both Karl and I have really tried to be vigilant. We keep an eye on her whenever we let her outside to ‘take care of business,’ and we’ve made a point not to put her harness on until we’re ready to leave the premises. That’s because we realized that she seems to make the connection between ‘harness’ and ‘walk,’ and would think (given that she’s mostly blind and quite deaf) we’d left without her if we lollygagged too much after getting her suited up for a walk.
She apparently doesn’t need her harness on anymore, though, to feel the call of the wild side.
Thus, I was not prepared to have to go sprinting up our road barefoot when our young, across-the-street neighbor ran into my yard to tell me she thought she saw Sheila out walking by herself.
Needless to say, I threw my laptop aside and took off at top speed. It was approaching ‘rush hour’ and I knew the danger was real.
So Many Good People
As I tore past the house where the dogs live that ambushed Spartacus a few months ago, my heart fell as I realized a truck advertising home renovations was stopped at the intersection that leads to High Rocks. I broached the vehicle and a young guy in the driver’s seat pointed ahead and up the hill. “That your dog?”
A little breathlessly, I replied that she was indeed my dog, and started to explain the situation. But as I looked ahead to where he was pointing, not only did I see his this guy’s friend (hereinafter Chaser 1) jogging after Sheila (who was moving at an incredibly spry clip), but worse, I saw two vehicles crest the hill and start heading toward us.
Just at that moment, Sheila veered from the right side of the road, where she’d been jogging (JOGGING!) and heads into the center. Into the center of the road! Into oncoming traffic!
Without thinking twice, I started shrieking, “No! Wait! Watch out!” Standing in the center of the road myself, I started frantically waving my arms to get the attention of the oncoming work vans. (I swear, all the craftsmen who live and work near us were heading home for the day at the same time.) Both vehicles slowed down considerably, but I nearly threw up when I saw Sheila quite obliviously trot right toward the lead vehicle. From my perspective, it looked like she bumped her head right up against his passenger tire.
When she did that weird head fake into the tire, she eluded Chaser 1’s grasp and skirted the van, obliviously resuming her jaunty trek up the side of the road again. Chaser 1 was then joined by Chaser 2 (the driver of the second van that had crested the hill coming toward us), and between them, they managed to head her off.
I could tell Chaser 1 wasn’t sure whether he should pick her up, but I called out (between huffs and puffs at this point) that she was harmless, wouldn’t bite, and was just a stubborn old lady who obviously wanted to take her walk early today.
Spartacus Joins the Fray
Just as I’m freaking out because I see her lunging at the tire of the closest van, Spartacus comes tearing up behind me, running so fast I could hear his toenails digging into the macadam. Ugh. Obviously, I’d not even thought for a moment about him when I took off to find Sheila. Bad mommy.
He was a good boy, though. After sniffing the men who’d just helped me corral his mother, he listened to me, stayed off the road (sort of, for the most part), and sniffed his mother approvingly when Chaser 1 transferred her into my arms. Sheila just panted and, I swear, wore the biggest Boston grin on her face that I’ve seen in quite a while.
She knew she’d been the center of attention – and she loved it.
There it is – a little ‘attitude’ – Photo: L. Weikel
All’s Well…
As I profusely thanked Chaser 1 and Chaser 2, another truck crested the hill towards us. A mid-50s-ish guy with blondish-gray curly hair poking out from under his visor cap and striking blue eyes, asked if everything was OK.
“Just an ornery old dog who’s half blind and all deaf working her will,” I replied, barefooted and panting a bit myself. It only occurred to me later that maybe he thought I was describing myself!
But having stayed up until 4:00 a.m. to write my post last night, I have to tell you: that little incident with Sheila today both freaked and wore me out.
I missed the cutoff to publish this post in time to have it go out in email this evening. But I’m nevertheless going to get it posted before I go to bed. Email-only recipients will simply receive a ‘double-dose’ of Ruffled Feathers tomorrow. My apologies.
The reason for my blown deadline is that Karl and I were in NYC attending a concert by The Hu, and it was after 1:00 a.m. by the time we pulled in the driveway.
I’ve written about throat singing here and The Hu, specifically, here, but I have to say, I don’t think I ever expected to see them in person.
I Am a Rube
Before I go any further, you might find it amusing that I had no idea there would be no chairs where this concert took place, and did not discover this fact until we were having dinner with family, right before we walked to the venue.
“Seriously?” I asked my nephew when he broke the news that we’d be standing all night, throughout the entire concert (including the opening act) – and could quite possibly find ourselves in the vicinity of a mosh pit.
“Yep,” he said, nodding his head as he finished the last finger-licking bite of his house special tacos. (We ate at Mesa Coyoacan, in Brooklyn – omg beyond yummy.) “I’m sorry; you’ll probably wish you had some earplugs, too. Things can get really loud there.”
I looked across the table at Karl, who just rolled his eyes. “We’ll figure it out,” he commented. “We can always leave early.” Nevertheless, I felt like a total rube for not having even once considered that the concert might be…intense.
“Oh,” Al added as an afterthought. “You might’ve wanted to bring earplugs.”
The Warsaw – Photo: L. Weikel
The Warsaw
Thus we found ourselves walking to the Warsaw, wondering just how bad an idea was turning into. Were we going to stick out like sore thumbs as some old geezers? I don’t feel geezerly, but damn – the potential was real. I just might succumb fairly rapidly after walking to the venue. I doubted I had the will to stand for three hours.
The Warsaw itself was great. A bit smaller than I’d anticipated, with a high, white plaster ceiling in the concert venue, and a clean and roomie ladies room. (This was important to me, since I knew I’d be standing for hours…!) We arrived about half an hour before the start-time on the tickets, so managed to get surprisingly close to the stage.
I made a conscious decision not to be in the center. I wanted to have easy access to an exit, just in case I wimped out.
Al Lover
The opening act was a trance/dance/synth artist named Al Lover. Since this was the type of music my son Karl created and introduced me to years ago, I really liked it. (You’ll recall it’s in his honor I’m engaging in this 1111 Devotion). Anyway, much as I really liked the music, it made me sad to see Al bent over his synthesizer on the stage, creating the same music that reminds so much of my son.
Al Lover – Photo: L. Weikel
I’m listening to Al Lover’s music as I write this, in fact. It’s putting me in a zone that’s helping the words flow. Thanks, Al.
The Hu
When The Hu finally came on stage, they did not disappoint. They. Were. Great.
I wish I could upload some snippets that I recorded, but instead, I’ll just link to a couple of their videos.
The Hu – Photo: L. Weikel
I can, however, share some still photos. You can see, we were pretty close to the stage. I loved feeling the music every bit as much as I heard it.
The Hu (Love his instrument) – Photo: L. Weikel
Toward the end of the concert, a group of about eight guys sort of in the center, in front of the stage, started hurling their bodies about (vaguely in time with the beat) (but not). I’m guessing this was our first experience of a ‘mosh pit.’ It looked painful, and I moved out of the way so I wouldn’t get slammed with an elbow (or some other body part). They seemed to be having a great time – but I wasn’t tempted in the least!
I’m tired, but determined to get this written before I go to bed.
I would go see The Hu again in a heartbeat. And I’d go to see Al Lover, too. We didn’t leave the concert early; and we even stayed for the encore. Our feet held up – but I have to admit: my ears are still ringing.
Reflected Balance on the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel
I’m Parched
I was going to write about the weather tonight. But brother, how boring.
And yet…with the rain arriving earlier this evening, it was as if I could feel the Earth opening up her mouth and just allowing the moisture falling from the clouds above to flow into the cracks that have been showing up in our lawn.
It feels like there’s a metaphor here – perhaps we will soon begin to witness a quenching of our collective thirst for action, for justice, and for a reckoning.
It makes me think about my comment to Karl as we were walking this evening. For no apparent or easily discernable reason, I felt bombarded by waves of anxiety. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. It was hard to tell whether it was emanating from within or whether I was responding to ‘the outside world.’
An Upshift In Energy
I was taught a long time ago that on every seasonal shift of the year there’s an upshift of energy. Sometimes this can lead us into greater awareness; sometimes it can lead us into greater anxiety and agitation. Usually whatever way we shift is associated with how we’re feeling when we enter into the energies of the solstices or equinoxes.
I get the feeling that this particular Equinox’s energy upshift is having a profound effect on the world at large. So many ‘big’ things have been happening over this past weekend and even more is in the process of becoming ‘breaking’ news tonight, that it’s all becoming hard to ignore.
My sense is that this Autumn Equinox is attempting to pull us all together into a state of balance. That very well might result in some seismic shifts.
Are WE Balanced Within?
So even when course corrections are being made and the world is trembling beneath our very feet, it is important that we go within and pay attention to our inner landscape. Are we balanced within?
Sometimes, in order to come back into balance we need to first undergo great upheaval.
I get the feeling that in the days ahead we’re going to need to make an extra effort to find and maintain our balance and equanimity.
We can do this. We just need to remember Who We Are.
In anticipation of tomorrow’s UN Climate Action Summit, youth from all corners of Bucks County (as well as New Jersey and elsewhere) converged on Doylestown today and took to the streets to let the ‘adults in charge’ know that they’re not going to wait around any longer.
The event was well planned and ably-implemented by BScape (Bucks Students for Climate Action and Protection of the Environment ), and the guest speakers were inspiring and well-informed.
There were also lots of older allies marching alongside and in solidarity with these younger activists. It was a sight to behold.
The bottom line here is that we must vote people out who do not believe that we are facing a climate crisis.
Photos and Inspiration
I’m including a couple of photos that capture the flavor of the march.
Getting Started – Photo: L. Weikel
BScape leading the way – Photo: L. Weikel
Photo: L. Weikel
Local Political Support
It was great to see a number of local politicians taking the time to show up and speak to the crowed of assembled marchers. State Representative Wendy Ullman gave some “highlights” of shocking statistics she’d received at a meeting she attended I believe last week (or maybe even yesterday). I would link to the report she synopsized, but cannot yet find it on her website. The truth of what’s going on in our environment is shocking – and needs all of our attention and ACTION. (And the best action we can take, of course, is to VOTE.)
State Rep. Wendy Ullman – Photo: L. Weikel
Fall Equinox
Finally, fall officially arrives at 3:50 a.m. EDT on Monday, September 23rd. A new season arrives – and it feels like it’s time to sweep the old stuff away. It’s time to clean house.
I suspect the coming week is going to be a big one for all of us. Let’s do our best to keep our eyes and ears open to what’s truly important. We must remain vigilant and refuse to succumb to the distractions that will undoubtedly be bombarding us from all directions.
Quercus Alba, White Oak (Matson’s Woods) – Photo: L. Weikel
Chestnut Resurrection
A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to spend some quality time, in solitude, on the banks (and actually in the midst) of my beloved Tohickon Creek.
During those several days, I took a deep dive into the novel The Overstory, by Richard Powers. And oh my goodness, did I revel not only in the solitude but also in the actual story of The Overstory, which had as the centering thread woven throughout the lives of all of its characters: TREES.
The first character to whom we’re introduced in the book is connected to and influenced by the American Chestnut. And while I’m sure I’d heard about the blight that decimated this tree in the early 1900’s, I did not fully comprehend the devastation until I read this book.
Another bit of character development in The Overstory has to do with old growth forests.
An Invitation
Thus, when I received, on one of the very days I was immersing myself in reading The Overstory, an email advertising a local program focusing upon a small patch of old growth forest right here in neighboring Northampton County, I jumped on it. (It seemed like a pretty fascinating coincidence of awareness and timing.)
Today was that program and dedication.
Matson’s Woods
Briefly, I learned that there is a small wooded area known as Matson’s Woods in Northampton County, in the Louise Moore Park, which is part of the Northampton County Park System. Due to the age of the trees found on this relatively small tract of land, it has been nominated for registry in the Old-Growth Forest Network.
When we walked the trail this morning, even though I believe the ‘woods’ comprise only approximately 7 acres or so, and there is development surrounding much of the Louise Moore Park, there nevertheless was a profoundly noticeable shift in energy when we walked amongst these grandmother and grandfather beings, the eldest and tallest being Quercus Alba or White Oak.
Do you see the face? – White Oak – Photo: L. Weikel
Most noticeably, a deep sense of quiet emanated from the forest floor. This sense was remarkable and unmistakable, and I noticed that the entire group immediately lowered their voices to a whisper. Without even realizing it consciously, we all acted as if we’d entered a cathedral.
Chestnut Resurrection
While I reveled in the opportunity to walk in the presence of these elder statesmen, I have to admit, I was very excited to hear about the apparent breakthrough in reclaiming the American Chestnut.
Before entering Matson’s Woods, we approached a hillock upon which six wire cages containing leafy green seedlings were arranged roughly in a circle. It was explained to us that research had yielded what forest scientists are hoping will permit a resurrection, in a sense, of the American Chestnut.
It’s been discovered that a single gene associated with wheat (I don’t know the specifics), if introduced to the genome of the American Chestnut, yields offspring that are resistant to the blight that decimated billions of these trees in the last century.
I believe it is the intention of the arborists in charge of this project to plant an American Chestnut that has received one of these blight resistant genes in the center of the circle of seedlings. When they mate, chestnuts produced should result in seedlings that are resistant to the blight.
I’m including at the end of this post a photo of the flyer that gives an email address for Allen Nichols (fajknichols.75@gmail.com) should you wish to request nuts and/or seedlings in order to plant a grove of chestnut trees on your property.
Trees Are Integral to the Health of Our Planet
I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to celebrate the dedication of Matson’s Woods into the Old Growth Forest Network and to learn about the hope associated with a blight resistant American Chestnut.
We’re definitely hoping to plant some new seedlings!
Asking for the room. I’m also asking for the planet.
Nothing, it seems, can happen in the world anymore without yet another scandal involving DT sucking all the oxygen out of the room.
Yet millions of people took a stand for Mother Earthtoday, walking out of offices and schools, gathering together in streets and parks and public squares, to demand that we all stop what we’re doing and realize our planet is on fire, and soon none of us may be able to breathe anymore.
We are living the crisis.
If You Didn’t Strike Today
If you weren’t able to participate in the Global Climate Strike today, there are still many opportunities to demand that our governments (and fellow citizens) begin taking seriously the threat to our planet’s existence.
For instance, if you live anywhere within striking distance of Bucks County, Pennsylvania, youth and other climate activists intend to march in the county seat of Doylestownfrom 12 noon to 1:30 p.m. The march will organize in the parking lot of Central Bucks West High School and culminate at the Bucks County Courthouse.
If You’re Just Getting Up to Speed
There are so many life and conscience-threatening issues and sources of disruption in our lives every single day, it seems, that it’s hard to keep up with them all.
All of these strikes are taking place in lead-up to United Nations Climate Action Summit on Monday, September 23rd in New York City. Here is a link to the main strike site that explains the point behind these so-called Climate Strikes.
The Power of One
What’s pretty astounding is that this world-wide movement literally began with one then-15 year old Swedish girl sitting outside Parliament in Stockholm, protesting that no one in the world seemed to be paying attention to the crisis facing all of us.
So this particular movement to gain the attention of the world to the existential threat of our time began looking this:
And has resulted in this in the span of one year :
Never Underestimate the Power of YOU
In the meantime, tonight’s sky was a study in pastels. I feel so deeply grateful for our planet, for the beauty and abundance she provides us every single day, and for the fury she displays and the destructive force she wields when she gets out of balance.
Just like any good mother, she continues to teach us, through her own example, no matter how old we get. Let us express our fury in healthy, peaceful, and effective ways, so we can minimize the destruction that’s already taking place on our watch, and that awaits us all if we don’t wake up – now.
