Month: May 2020

Mother’s Day Message – 546

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Buttercup – Photo: L. Weikel

Mother’s Day Message

Since I finally revealed just the other day the most profound and reliable way Karl uses to communicate with me since he drowned on 11/11/11, I thought I might share with you my most recent experience of this connection.

Mind you: I never know when it’s going to happen, although he almost always ‘comes through’ on days of special meaning or when I’m feeling particularly raw or vulnerable. So it wasn’t as if I was expecting to hear from him today. In fact, since the communications seem to be getting fewer and further between as the years go by, I rarely expect and only sometimes hope to hear from him anymore. I guess, deep down, I feel his soul has moved on and is busily engaged elsewhere.

Setting the Scene

I was driving to the local health food store this morning to pick up my weekly milk delivery. As I was driving up the road from my home, about a mile away, I received a text from my middle son, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day and telling me he loves and appreciates me. I see the text and my heart swells. Of course, I don’t respond; I’m driving. I just…smile to myself.

I do not have any idea what song had been playing on my iPhone at that time (through my car’s stereo system), but it ended. Right then. And a new song started playing. As soon as I heard the first chord, I felt it in my heart. And then I heard the words:

Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?

Moby

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors…

Source: LyricFind

Whoa.

I’ll be honest. I played it twice. OK. Maybe three times. Whatever. It got me up to the store, where I went in, got my milk, and returned to the car.

The Journey Home

Yeah. My heart was hurting. But I felt that Karl’s heart was hurting too. In fact, it felt like he sent that to me to hear, right after M sent me that text, because Karl couldn’t reach out and touch me, hug me, again.

But I have to admit – reading the lyrics when I got home and started writing this post, I’m sort of, well, in awe.

As I drove home, though, I decided not to dwell on how much either of our hearts were hurting. So I just let the next song play.

And there it was. Another message. Exactly what I needed him to follow up with: Give Me Love, by George Harrison. And I venture to say, we all need as much hope and help coping with this heavy load as we can get.

Give Me Love (Lyrics)

Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with
Heart and soul
Om m m m m m m m m m m m m m
M m m my lord . . .
Please take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you
Won’t you please
Oh won’t you
Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with
Heart and soul
Om m m m m m m m m m m m m m
M m m my lord . . .
Please take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you

Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Shahin George / Rainey Fatima Lorencz / Rakascan Marko
Give Me Love lyrics © Universal Music- Mgb Songs

 

Thanks, Karl. I love you – and your brothers – so very, very much. Your communication was a gift of heart and soul.

I’m doing my best to listen – and I hope I understand you.

(T-565)

Lazy Bones – Day 545

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Photo: L. Weikel

Lazy Bones

Yep; I’ll admit it. I was a total lazy bones today. I could’ve mowed the lawn. I could’ve walked four miles. I could’ve compromised and walked two!

But no. I stayed inside. I took one look at the wind chill of 35 degrees and through chattering teeth said, “Bag it.” The snow flurries applauded my decision.

Why does 35 degree weather and flurries feel like entirely unreasonable circumstances to force myself to brave during the second week in May, when taking a walk in that very same weather in January is practically considered a balmy opportunity? I haven’t put away my winter garb. I could layer up as easily today as I could five months ago.

Nevertheless, I Balked

I’ll admit it: I balked at the very thought of bulking up and venturing out. And for the life of me, that attitude doesn’t make sense to me. Yet I brandished that same attitude when I (fleetingly) considered mowing the lawn, too. It needs it. But the thought of my feet getting soggy as I mowed amidst flurries was entirely, unequivocally unappealing.

Art House Alternative

Even though I know, deep down, I would’ve warmed up easily once I started walking, I allowed myself the indulgence of staying inside. I even took it one step further. (It’s Mother’s Day weekend – heck – I might as well milk this for all it’s worth!)

One adaptation caused by the Covid quarantining is that the smaller cinemas around us, such as The County Theater and Acme Screening Room are making their films available via Kino Marquee. Check it out! And since we have Roku, it turned out that we didn’t have to watch on our computer – we could watch it on our television. It was a great experience that I know we’ll repeat often.

So Karl and I actually curled up on the couch and watched Beyond the Visible, a documentary about the Swedish mediumistic abstract painter, Hilma af Klint.

Birth of Abstract Painting

What a visually beautiful film – and a fascinating, if maddening, story. Her work undoubtedly would have been received and treated dramatically differently by the outside world had she been a man. The pervasive reality of how women have been relegated to ‘less than’ in so many areas of life, based solely on their anatomy, is tiresome and old.

There are a lot of layers to the story of Hilma af Klint and I sense the film only touches on everything tantalizingly briefly. Somehow, it feels like the Spiritualism of the turn of the 20th century is somehow coming round again to inform our evolution now.

I feel there’s more to explore here on a larger scale. But in the meantime, if you have a chance, check out this film.

(T-566)

Weather is Turning Foul – Day 544

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Photo: L. Weikel

Foul

The weather is turning as foul as predicted. Wind is whipping fat globs of rain and slush through the air like paintball pellets. Hearing the splatter on the windows as I sat down to write, I just realized I forgot to bring in my plants, the ones I’d recently allowed to spend some time outside, ‘on their own,’ encouraging them to reconnect with their feral roots.

OK, phew! I brought everything in. Wow, it’s nasty out there.

This Week

I’d like to welcome all of you to the weekend. It may not feel all that different from the days of the week that you just endured, but I think we all know, for most of us at least, there still remains a psychological difference. Old habits die hard.

And as I write, thunder rumbles.

Even though I love thunder and lightning, thunder can feel ominous – or perfectly in keeping with the milieu of the times. I must admit that’s how it feels at the moment: a perfect, ominous warning.

If anyone felt this week was particularly stressful, I want you to hear me: YOU ARE NOT ALONE! I don’t know if it was the full moon or the culmination of being on lockdown for almost two months, the relentless information, misinformation, lying, and scare tactics we’re bombarded with, or what it is. But this has been a week.

I’ve had a number of people tell me that they’re having trouble sleeping. Even if they succeed in falling asleep, they often find themselves dreaming copiously and restlessly, and often the dreams turn to nightmares.

Early Stretch

It sounds like a good portion of these dreams and nightmares are taking apocalyptic turns. Everything feels momentous these days. We really don’t know what’s coming at us from one day to the next, so it only stands to reason that we play out possible scenarios in our dreams.

Seriously: the mere word pandemic sounds like something that belongs in a Hollywood movie, not the past two months of our lives. And now, with this bizarre push to get the country back up and ‘running’ no matter the cost in human lives, we’re entering a new phase of a national nightmare.

We’ve only just begun learning how to deal with all of this. And yet, we’re almost getting whiplash, trying to keep track of whether ‘the worst is over’ or – more likely – the ‘worst’ has moved to other parts of the country where it appears honesty about testing and infection rates and deaths may not be the highest priority of those calling the shots.

False Sense of Security

My sense is that people all across the country have watched the way New York has handled the initial crush of cases, including the way Governor Cuomo has addressed his constituents (and the rest of the nation) each and every day with facts and emotional fortitude. On some level, even though many find it easy to judge the hell out of them, deep down, we all believe we’re New Yorkers. We felt that on 9/11 and we feel it now. We resonate with the attitude of “New York Tough.”

But I fear the success New York is having in meeting this challenge head-on is creating a false sense of security for the rest of the nation.

The push to get back to an illusory normal is almost certainly ill-advised, especially since the rest of the country (outside of maybe New York and New Jersey) have yet to reach their peak. I have a feeling many of us know that to be true on a visceral level. Much more loss is about to take place, and it’s the stuff of nightmares.

Honesty? Transparency?

And while we hope the governors of the states where numbers are starting to soar (when they deign to reveal those numbers – another tip off that ‘this is not New York’) will put their people first and give them every fact and number and piece of information that will help them make informed decisions for their health and that of their families, if we’re honest, we can see the writing on the wall.

The requisite honesty and transparency are profoundly and horrifyingly lacking.

Perhaps we need to give expression to the terror that courses through our body when we consider how fast and far the Coronavirus is spreading across the country, especially in our nursing and extended care facilities, prisons, and certain factory settings (such as meat packing plants), and other places of congregate living or working. We need to express it so we can release it.

And isn’t that really what this full moon is all about? Letting the light of the full moon shine upon our fears so we can identify them and let them go ?

The first responsibility is to be honest with ourselves. Then we can wake from our nightmares and prevail. Together.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-567)

Rain to Ice – Day 543

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Photo: L. Weikel

Rain to Ice

As I sit here trying to decide which of the myriad emotions I’ve felt today I want to express in this post, I hear a whoosh of what I think is the wind. But it’s not the wind. It’s rain.

But the rain isn’t steady. It sounds as if only some of the clouds blowing through are filled with moisture too heavy to contain. Other clouds just pass right by. I can feel a distinct shift in the air, though. Markedly cooler air wafts in through the screen of the open front door.

This is just the beginning of a wild weekend, weather-wise.

It’s May, right? May 8th, in fact, in this crazy year of 2020.

Perspective via Polar Vortex

We’ve had one of the mildest winters I can remember, so of course there’s a “freeze” warning in effect for tomorrow night into Saturday. And of course, while my area will probably ‘only’ get a coating of ice, northeastern Pennsylvania and points north, including much of New York state, Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Vermont are bracing for 6-8” of snow, and even as much as a foot of heavy, wet stuff in some areas.

Hopefully, people won’t lose their electricity to downed wires caused by the storm.

It seems we keep getting reminders on the importance of perspective. If we start paying attention to what’s going on around us, perhaps we’ll stop thinking, “Things can’t get any worse.” Because it’s precisely when we make that cavalier statement that we’re often given a good dose of “Oh yeah?”

What is True

There’s a lot going on out there that’s escaping our perception. We’re being bombarded. We need to keep our wits. We need to remember what’s important. We need to take deep stock of ourselves and who we trust.

Everything we believed we knew for sure is being challenged right now.

We need to stick together. We need to be there for each other. This is when our integrity shines through and calls us to perhaps take leaps into an unknown we never thought we would.

We must stop denying what we see with our very own eyes. This really is as bad as we feel, deep down inside. Does the rain need to turn to ice in May? Do we really need to experience even worse before we wake up and See?

Tigger – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-568)

Timely Question – Day 542

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
 Sunset on Fire – 5 May 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

Timely Question

I had to go out the other day to do a grocery run to a special store I haven’t been to in almost eight weeks. It was the first time I’ve been in my car for a while, so I was enjoying just driving along listening to the songs on my iPhone, when a timely question was posed from an unexpected source.

Some Background

When I used to drive the Grey Ghost (aka Good Girl), I would listen to my iPod all the time. Remember, Good Girl was so old (2005) that she hadn’t come with a standard connection to electronic devices. She had a cassette tape deck and a CD player. So a few years later, my guys bought me an upgraded speaker system and a connection to my iPod for my birthday or Mother’s Day, I can’t remember which. But I do know I made very good use of it.

It wasn’t until Karl died, though, that I started listening to my iPod with it set on ‘random.’ I have a collection of well over 3,000 songs I’ve accumulated over the past 15 years or so, most contributed by my three sons. After losing Karl, I was so numb I couldn’t make a choice of what to listen to if my life depended on it. So I set it on random.

And that’s when I discovered his easiest – and most effective – means of communicating with me.

Quick Search

I just did a quick search of all my blog posts and I apparently have never written about this before. I’m astonished. Honestly, I thought for sure that I’d shared this cherished aspect of my life with all of you already.

Well, realizing this at this late stage of the game makes me see that I need to write about this in more depth another time.

The point of tonight’s post, though, was to share with you a song Karl brought to my attention yesterday, when I was in the car. As usual, I was sort of half listening to what was playing and then drawn up suddenly when I realized what the lyrics were actually saying.

The Question

Where do we go from here?

It’s not just the question posed by the title of the song. It’s the lyrics as a whole and their eerie applicability to the precise situation we’re facing globally. Right now.

Turns out the song was published in 1970. Huh. Who’d have thought Chicago would be so prescient?

As soon as I realized what the lyrics were saying, I knew I wanted to share the song – and the timely question – with all of you. Because I feel this is precisely what we all need to contemplate and decide.

The fate of our country, and quite possibly the world, relies on us getting this right. And I can’t help but feel Karl sees all of this from a different perspective – and is making an effort to get our attention.

Raindrops on the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-569)

Stuck in Neutral – Day 541

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Wild violets – Photo: L. Weikel

Stuck in Neutral

I don’t know what it is. It feels like my brain is stuck in neutral. I’m simply unable to engage in any topic.

Nothing feels right to write about.

We watched only one ‘news’ show this evening and I find myself unable to write about what we learned in that hour. It boggles the mind to realize and admit how ludicrously and deliberately stupid people are behaving – especially the Administration.

I find it difficult even to write about all of this obliquely. I can literally feel my heart start to pound harder and seem to edge closer to my throat.

No Distraction

Quite maddeningly, I sent myself a good five or six photos I took this evening on our walk, but they’ve yet to ‘arrive’ in my email inbox. I’m sure any one of them would’ve provided a welcome distraction to my upset over the state of our country. I’ve run into the problem before (thank you, Verizon Wireless), but tonight’s delay seems particularly considerable.

The distraction that would’ve been provided was the unbelievable panoply of colors in the sky tonight, just as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. It was as if there were an enormous, uncontrolled fire miles and miles away.

On the one hand, it was an unspoken relief that there was no actual fire, the colors were so brilliant and provocative. But on the other, it begged the observation that our country really is on fire. And that fire is out of control.

Not the Covid virus necessarily. But the willful ignorance about it. How it is spread. How vast swaths of people can spread it around while being completely asymptomatic. How close quarters of any kind are tremendous breeding grounds for its incubation and spread. And how vulnerable we’ve all been made as a result of tests still not being widely and abundantly available. To us. The United States of America.

Pinch Hit

I guess I’ll resurrect some photos I’ve saved on my computer from other days and ask them to pinch hit. I know you don’t necessarily care when I’ve taken a photo. But I like to use fresh photos that capture something of my day each day. It’s become such a part of my process.

This will run late, but I offer it anyway.

Keep up the great work of stopping the spread. At least it would appear that those of us in the Northeast (and I’m being generous including Pennsylvania in that geographic area, but we are  in the coalition of states organized by New York’s Governor Cuomo) have been doing a yeoman’s job of mitigating the spread. Sadly, it would appear others are going to be paying a huge price for both an abundance of arrogance (thinking it was only a problem for the supposed ‘blue’ states) and ceding authority to corporations (such as meat packing plants) that apparently wield so much power that they tell the governments to look the other way. Or else. And get away with it. With the president’s blessing, in fact.

We need to pay attention. This is unsustainable. And it will affect us all.

Spartacus just can’t watch – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-570)

Full Flower Moon – Day 540

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Approaching Full Flower Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

Full Flower Moon

Nope; not yet. But when it does arrive – at 6:45 a.m. EDT on Thursday, May 7th, 2020 – we will be enjoying what’s known as the Full Flower Moon.

I just thought I’d give everyone a little heads up. After all, who wants to miss a full moon whose name conjures images of abundant bouquets of heady-scented, multi-hued blossoms?

Sometimes I wish I could smell the colors of some of the flowers we encounter on our walks. Take these precious little gems sunning themselves beside the creek that flows parallel to our road:

Wildflowers – Photo: L. Weikel

Moon Shadows – Already

As Karl and I walked early this evening, our eyes kept getting drawn toward the waxing moon above our heads. Of course, as we continued along our trek and the sun disappeared completely behind a bank of dark slate gray clouds on the horizon, she became brighter and more brilliant with each passing minute.

By the time we reached home, our forms – and everything around us, especially the trees – cast sharp, unmistakable shadows. And this with two and a half days left until she reaches her fullest expression!

I don’t know what it is that makes me catch my breath every time I see them, but there’s something magical about moon shadows. When I am lucky enough to be outside when the moon casts her brilliance powerfully enough, joy bubbles up and I feel what I can only describe as childlike delight. Magic.

I took the photo above early in our walk tonight – well before the sun even approached the horizon. Something tells me, if we’re lucky to escape cloud cover over the next few nights, we’re in for some serious urges to howl.

A Little Forethought

Remember, full moons are the perfect time to release those feelings, thoughts, or perspectives on circumstances that have maxed out on their usefulness in our lives. As Grandmother Moon is already beaming her message of reflection to us in these days preceding her technical fullness, perhaps she’s encouraging us to spend a little bit of this Covid-19 isolation reflecting on what might not be working for us anymore.

Is there an attitude, a belief, a perspective on life that we used to hold very dear (and which may have worked well enough), but which might not serve us anymore as we adjust to a vastly different world? Is there a rigidity lurking somewhere within ourselves that we might release, perhaps by symbolically blowing it into a tiny stick and willingly sacrificing to a full moon fire?

Intention is Everything

Remember, a full moon fire can be as simple as a tea candle on a dish. The power of any ritual rests in our intention.

Perhaps we can take advantage of the next day or two to reflect on what we’ve experienced ‘enough’ of and wish to release. This month’s Full Flower Moon is arriving at a time when most of us are realizing that this – all of this, this new reality – is, indeed, real. And perhaps here to stay for a lot longer than any of us would’ve believed a month or two ago.

If we’re going to slow down and revel in the beauty and aroma of the flowers that are only starting to bloom in our lives, perhaps we better first clear out the dead beliefs about how things are.

(T-571)

Carnage – Day 539

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Carnage at the beak and talons of an Accipiter – Photo: L. Weikel

Carnage

It happened in the blink of an eye. Carnage at the homestead.

No wonder nobody was coming ‘round the birdfeeders this afternoon. I could hear melodious birdsong emanating from the treetops behind the barn and across the fields. But in the maples and ashes nearest our feeders? Neither a peep nor a trill.

This happens occasionally every year, and it’s never easy. The worst was when it happened right before my eyes. The deed was dispatched so quickly that I would’ve thought I’d imagined it – but for the <<ploof>> of feathers gently drifting to the ground in front of me.

Cooper’s or Sharp Shinned Hawk

We have an extremely handsome accipiter living near us, who uses our yard as a fast-food joint. I’ve tried to locate our feeders in such a way as to make it harder for the hawk to just do drive-by knock offs, but obviously, it cannot be prevented entirely.

The deed is dispatched with sniper-like precision, so I take comfort (small as it is) in the knowledge that the guests for dinner do not know what hits them.

As I’ve mentioned, the evidence is indisputable that an avian snack is had at least a couple of times each year. The pile of feathers with no body and perhaps only a splatter of blood makes it clear that this was no clumsy cat ambush (no disrespect to Cletus intended). But the very few times he’s managed the Houdini act of not only sneaking outside during the day but also stalking and killing a bird, he’s almost always presented it at the doorstep as a proud proof of prowess and worth.

When the hawks nail a bird, the prey is dinner. No two ways about it. And the only leftovers are the feathers that explode from impact. Nothing is wasted.

Mourning Dove

And so it is that a mourning dove is mourned. We’re confident of the identity of the victim due to an analysis not unlike CSI of the crime scene. All DNA points to Cooper’s Hawk or Sharp-shinned. I realize I must pay closer attention to the vocalizations. That may be the most reliable way I will have of identifying which killer is in our midst.

Sassy

There was one bird today that just kept showing up and demanding attention. It cheekily modeled its sleek, monochromatic good looks and asked to be photographed. I complied. I just hope it doesn’t get too cocky. The area where I took its picture is precisely along Accipiter Way, and it’s an area precariously out in the open – making way for occasional carnage to ensue.

Sassy Catbird – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-572)

Didn’t See That – Day 538

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Angel’s Wings – Photo: L. Weikel

Didn’t See That

Walking this early evening was a particularly spectacular treat. The setting sun toyed with the clouds that cascaded across the sky and created moment after moment that demanded our attention. I would try to swear off taking any further photos, only to relent to the temptation time after time. One particular effort, though, yielded a photo that simply didn’t resemble what we were observing. “I didn’t see that, did you?” I asked Karl when I showed him the photo on my iPhone’s screen.

We both looked up at the sky, the clouds arcing across the sky before us. Then we looked down at my iPhone. Nope. Not the same.

Angel’s Wings

There a chance that even transferring the image to a larger screen (such as a laptop or desktop) will wreck the effect of what we both saw within moments of each other – and that’s the angel’s wings.

To both of us, the photo seemed to clearly reflect wings high above us, holding, protecting, and shielding us (and all our neighbors – indeed, the entire world) from harm. But when we simply looked at the sky, all we saw was the initial beauty that had warranted taking the photo in the first place.

We kept looking back and forth between the actual sky and the photograph. It was as if an angelic or higher force is trying to keep us protected and centered, but chooses to remain anonymous. And it was only through the perspective afforded by the camera’s unique lenses that revealed the support hidden in plain sight.

And regardless of the objective ‘truth’ of unseen protection, it is a comforting thought sometimes to think that it might occur, especially when so many people are refusing to take responsibility for themselves (and all of us). When everything else has failed, there is a power in allowing our imagination to ease our stress even just a notch or two, simply by bolstering a sense that a higher power is protecting us from the most dangerous among us.

Even the most cynical among us cannot dispute the research that establishes that stress makes us more vulnerable to illness and other maladies. Surely feeling that there’s some unseen protection can bolster our immune systems even a little bit?

At the very least, it made us smile.

Sunset Spectacular

About a mile of our walk later, we crested a hill and encountered a sunset of epic beauty. Perhaps it’s a result of all the rain we’ve had lately, but wow. In spite of the reality of the astonishing number of deaths occurring in our country and across the world, it is indisputably easier – at least for a few short moments – to disengage the clutch that always has our minds in gear and allow ourselves to simply get lost in the unspeakable beauty of a moment.

Everything about this evening has been exquisite. The song of the frogs and peepers, the brilliance of the first quarter moon and Venus, the darting and dives of bats freeing themselves from the confines of their homes (perhaps our attics?) as they lunge after mosquitos and other winged morsels.

Yes. For just a moment or two, or maybe even an hour or two if we were lucky, it was possible to imagine that this pandemic was a very grotesque dream. Of course, indulging in such an imaginary experience is only possible if we are lucky enough not to be in the throes of grief; of feeling the oppressive loss of someone we love to this killer virus.

But if we can, if we can find those moments when we can immerse ourselves in the magic that may be accidentally revealed to us every now and again, then maybe we can also find the grace to carry on one more day of ‘physical distancing’ while embracing ‘spiritual union’ with All That Is. You may initially think, “I didn’t see that.” But when it’s revealed, you’ll know; and feel all the stronger for it.

Sunset 2 May 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-573)

Cycles – Day 537

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Illuminated Willow – Photo: L. Weikel

Cycles

I’m sitting here in my usual spot on our couch. Our front door is open and I can hear a powerful wind whipping through the tops of the 30’ pines across the road. The huge stand of trees is actually dying out, much to the relief of my sinuses, which have been dearly taxed by the pollen that’s wafted from these trees for decades. The quantity of now barren branches of these huge sentinels makes me sad nevertheless. I’m reminded, of course, that everything in life comes down to cycles.

Everywhere we look in our lives, cycles prevail. Indeed, our lives themselves are ultimately the cycles that both drive and haunt us at the same time.

Some cycles are much greater than a simple human life; and by that I mean they play out over periods of time measuring much longer than even the longest of human lives. And of course there are other cycles that begin and end in the blink of an eye.

Endings and Beginnings

Of course, if we’re talking about cycles, then surely we must consider beginnings and endings. Endings and beginnings. We really can’t have one without the other because nothing lasts forever, except eternity, I suppose.

Pine trees have life cycles, as do maples and dogwoods, sycamores and weeping willows.

Recently, while I feel they’ve been staring me in the face almost everywhere I turn, I’ve been contemplating a couple of cycles in particular. It’s fascinating to realize just how unwilling we are to let go of the familiar – even when we know it is both time to do so and ultimately for the best.

Global Scale

I am sure that all of us are capable of pointing to half a dozen cycles we’ve taken for granted in our lives that have been completely upended in the past six weeks or so. Cycles we didn’t even realize were cycles – until they were no more.

One cycle that we’re currently experiencing is actually reflected in the stars. Well, the planets, more specifically – an astrological cycle. And the similarities of configurations that were present in 1918 and are occurring once again in 2020 are remarkable.

It seems to me that it’s incumbent upon us all to learn from the past. If we don’t make a point of learning from and evolving as a result of what’s transpired before, won’t we end up finding ourselves just repeating the same patterns, possibly even mistakes, over and over? Wouldn’t we rather evolve? Isn’t that ultimately the point of life?

Check out this latest astrological Pele Report by Kaypacha. There’s a lot of good stuff in it, including similarities of cycles from 100 years ago, as well as links to other sources. The mantra resonated with me right down to a cellular level. Maybe it will with you, too.

(T-574)