Sometimes we have to find magic in the little things. If we don’t, we run the risk of feeling overwhelmed by the big things.
I find that a couple of photos I took this morning are bringing me a measure of sweetness. No matter how upset we humans are (or aren’t) by certain losses and activities and diseases that may be upending our lives, the creatures and other beings with whom we share this planet just keep on keeping on.
Baby Sparrow – Photo: L. Weikel
They eat, they sleep, they wave and bob their heads in the breeze.
They brighten our days and bring magic to our nights. (I’m talking to you, Barred Owl.)
And sometimes they’re all I want to think or write about.
Photo: L. Weikel
I don’t want to think one more thought about the state of affairs we humans find ourselves in. Not one more thought this evening.
I want to look at the squirrel snoozing on a branch just outside my bedroom window. I want to celebrate the bright beauty of the Heliopolis blooming along the side of our road. I want to revel in the fluffy adorableness of a baby bird just getting its bearings, or a red squirrel caressing a peanut it stealthily (in its mind) snagged from the peanut loop.
When the huge stuff pulls you down, take time to find the magic in the little things. Give them permission to pull you back up.
What a blow to our already stressed collective psyche. I’m referring, of course, to our loss this evening of the iconic Ruth Bader Ginsburg, second female Supreme Court Justice of this United States of America, to the unrelenting ravages of cancer. As soon as the world knew of her passing, my phone lit up in reaction to the profound grief so many of my friends, family, and colleagues are feeling in this moment. It is as if 2020 refuses to relent. We’re being pounded into submission, forced to face head-on the stark reality – and profundity – of the choices facing us. And in the face of our grief, in the face of these choices, I ask: #WWRBGD?
Let me be clear: I am not being glib or cute in asking the question. Perhaps asking the question in the form of a hashtag lends it a more pedestrian patina than I’d like, but I actually think the fierce, dynamic champion of human rights would chuckle. After all, she embraced her status as ‘the Notorious RGB,’ and she undoubtedly knew of the hashtag #WWJD. It seems only fitting that #WWRGBD take its rightful place as a question the answer to which might guide our actions in the days to come.
I ask the question, #WWRGBD, because it is too easy for us to get lost in grief and lose our focus on what’s truly important. Yes, her life had historic significance and impact. And goodness knows, she fought an Herculean battle to remain on the bench until, ideally, a new president could be elected.
But it wasn’t meant to be.
We Must Not Give Up
And when I consider how tenaciously she fought throughout her life, not only for equality, fairness, and justice under the law, but also to model collegiality, open-heartedness, integrity, and grace, I cannot imagine us demeaning her efforts by giving up the fight to soundly defeat Donald Trump and his enablers in the House and Senate.
We must not give up. We must not surrender to grief or despondency. We know what’s at stake and we must use her death as a rallying cry, a rod that stiffens our spines, and a torch that leads us to do whatever it takes to reclaim our country and the principles and values upon which it stands.
When our energy flags, when we are slapped in the face yet again with the hypocrisy of the Mitch McConnells, Donald Trumps, William Barrs, and Ted Cruzes (just to name a few), we must stop and ask ourselves: #WWRBGD?
I have no doubt that she would tell us to suck it up and move forward. In my mind, that’s the best way we can honor her memory and her legacy.
There are a lot of different things I’ve considered writing about tonight. But it’s a lot. Everything going on right now is calling on us to figure out who we are and what we believe in, and that can be overwhelming on the best of days. Sometimes it feels appropriate to address what we’re all dealing with, face to face, precisely because we’re going through an existential crisis – both individually, in many cases, and most definitely as a country.
But I’m also acutely aware that we can only take so much. At least, I assume you sort of feel the way I do: I care. I am vociferously passionate about the myriad challenges we’re facing as a country (and a planet). But at the same time, it is abundantly clear to me that we need to pace ourselves. We need to make sure we don’t make the mistake that some long distance runners (or even shorter distance, I suppose) make when they spend it all just a little too early and ‘hit the wall’ just short of the finish line. That’s just heartbreaking to watch when it happens (and I imagine it must be an utter nightmare to personally experience).
I’ve met my enemy; Photo: L. Weikel
First Face
So tonight I’m just going to share a couple of different face to face encounters I’ve had over the past day or two.
This afternoon I was searching for a pen on the glider I occupy when I’m working from my porch. I whipped off one of the cushions and this beast was right there looking at me, as surprised as I was. It even raised its little arms in a defensive posture because it knew. It knew it had met its fate. The beast had been discovered by an avowed Spotted Lantern Fly assassin.
I may have been the one to shorten this moth’s life, but if you take a good look at its eyes, you know it would’ve done the same to me had it only had longer legs.
Katydid ready to jig – Photo: L. Weikel
Second Face
The second little one I’m sharing with you is a katydid we encountered on our walk yesterday. Spartacus actually came upon him, thinking he was dead and possibly as tasty as the praying mantises that all too frequently fail to make it across the road at this time of year. (Sheila’s favorite autumn snacks – which Spartacus is developing a taste for in his maturity.)
What I particularly like about this katydid, beyond it’s much less sinister eyes (compared to the Spotted Lantern Fly) are the way its feet are designed. Its feet look like they have little boots attached!
It almost reminds me of something Jiminy Cricket would wear.
Evening Reprieve
So there you have it. A light little photo essay on my recent face to face encounters with the creatures in my natural habitat.
We need to pace ourselves so we don’t hit the wall – not only before November 3rd, but even beyond. Because let’s face it: who really thinks the nightmare will be over on November 4th?
I find myself at a loss for words this evening. We’re living in some mighty smoky times, my friends. While I know I don’t need to tell you, I do find myself unable to concentrate on much else.
What does it say that the skies over the East Coast of the United States are being viewed through a burnt sienna filter as a result of raging infernos 3,000 miles away?
Is there no comprehension of the perversity surrounding two to three feet of rain falling on Alabama and Florida in a single day, at the same time that fires are consuming 4 million acres of land out west?
What blows my mind is that it is neither the peak of wildfire season nor the peak of hurricane season. Yet.
Meanwhile, we have proof positive, playing out before our very eyes, that those in the highest positions of authority in our government are lying to us day in and day out. Atrocities – literal atrocities – are being committed in our name and with our tax dollars against women who have been locked up in private prisons, some for three years or more, as a result of seeking asylum in our country. The country that used to pride itself on being a model of freedom and justice.
Gunfire
I’m sitting here writing these words with the front door of my home open. I was being serenaded by the heartiest of crickets remaining in the grasses and woods just outside.
As I wrote those last paragraphs above, I just heard gunfire. Rapid fire (semi-automatic?) gunfire.
It is 12:53 a.m.
I feel like I’m looking at my country through a haze of smoke and lies and disbelief that go far beyond the ravaging wildfires our brothers and sisters in California, Oregon, and Washington are enduring right now.
I need to consider, again, the small seeds I intend to plant tomorrow for the new moon. What will you be planting?
I’m starting to wonder if somehow my youth was stunted or in some other way deprived. I say that because, clearly, I have an odd penchant for anthropomorphizing my vegetables.
I don’t know what to say. When I was a little kid, I was not one to play with dolls – at least, not the stereotypical or traditional ‘baby dolls.’ But man…I do remember Liddle Kiddles, though.
Wow, in the process of seeing if I could find a link to an image of Liddle Kiddles, I became completely distracted by and lost in memories from when I was 7 or 8 years old. Since my siblings were all significantly older than I was, and we lived ‘out in the country,’ I spent a lot of time playing by myself. Believe me, I grew up a long time before there was anything remotely called a play date.
When I found this link to Liddle Kiddles and see their little faces and accessories, I can suddenly still smell the bendy plastic they were made of and remember their outfits as if it were yesterday – or another life. Of the ‘original ten’ Kiddles created in 1966, I definitely remember having Bunson Burnie, Calamity Jiddle, Howard “Biff” Boodle, Lola Liddle, and Liddle Diddle. Remembering this right now is just so peculiar!
I also played with Trolls. I loved their hair and their naked, androgynous little bodies. I’m pretty sure they, too, had that same rubbery-plastic smell that all dolls of that ilk had back in the ‘60s.
Today It’s Vegetables
What can I say?
I picked up our family’s vegetables from the CSA today and noticed we received a bounty of adorably provocative carrots. Ah yes, I’ve grown up and now instead of Calamity Jiddle and Biff Boodle, I see soft porn in my veggies.
Hardly even soft! But tell me these carrots don’t look just a tad bit risqué?
I don’t know about the middle one. It seems to be a little kid throwing a fishing line into a creek. The one on the left is just kickin’ back, chillin’ out. I could almost imagine it smoking a cigarette and reaching for a beer. And the one on the right? Hmm. It’s probably best if I leave that to your own imaginations.
I’m sure at least some of you know this tendency to anthropomorphize is a distinct part of my personality. You may remember this post. Or this one. Of course, this odd predilection of mine undoubtedly enhances my ability to read the clouds the way I do.
Provocative Carrots – Photo: L. Weikel
Makes Me Laugh
All I know is, my humor may occasionally be juvenile and my imagination may be abundantly fertile, but I’m often able to use those attributes to find something to make me smile in this chaotic, often depressing world.
If it’s anthropomorphizing carrots, so be it. Whimsy, fantasy, imagination, laughter…these are the things in my life that I want to cultivate.
There’s a lot happening celestially this week that’s impacting all of us, in big ways and small, and our life here on Earth. On a grand and profound scale, major shifts and movements of three of the outer, slower moving planets are beginning to take place. These shifts are directly related to movements and alignments that began in January and then reversed in late April/early to mid May. On a smaller scale, a new moon is occurring on Thursday.
As we all know by now, astrologically, new moons are times when we are encouraged to begin new projects, enter new relationships, and plant the seeds of new ideas. Full moons are often viewed as times of reaching full ripeness and peak expression and experience. In the podcast I’m recommending today, master astrologer Rick Levine gives a synopsis of the major planetary influences that will be occurring during the month of September.
Plant Small Seeds
Given the nature of everything that’s going on around us, from a pandemic, to unprecedented wildfires, to hurricanes and water tornadoes, it would be easy to think that the seeds of intention we might want to plant around now would be big honkers that will herald a whole new world. But apparently that would not be the wisest course. Rather, Levine counsels that we plant small seeds. In other words, right now, the wisest course of action is to set small, manageable goals of intention. Take our lives and our intentions to create change one small step at a time.
When I heard this today (I’ve begun listening to podcasts, especially when I mow the lawn, since receiving earpods for Mother’s Day), it not only made sense to me – it felt like a relief. When I set intentions (or make a wish, for instance, on the candles of my birthday cake), I tend to ‘go big.’ I often aspire to make what feel like significant shifts in my approach to life or my practice.
And with the election only 50 days away, I feel like I should also be setting all sorts of intentions to be more of an activist on behalf of voting rights and preserving the integrity of our elections.
Yet the wisdom of setting some small, attainable goals in the midst of the insanity all around us feels really good to me.
The Big Guns
This might be at least partially because the planets Jupiter, Saturn, and Pluto are now beginning to shift their configuration again – and based upon what’s happened so far, I expect we will see the impact of that within a couple of weeks.
Briefly, in January, Jupiter, Saturn, and Pluto all basically clumped together in the sign of Capricorn, which can be seen as the sign of patriarchy, structure, and capitalism, among other things. This is also when we started hearing rumblings of the arrival of a virus that could cause a pandemic. It’s when, unbeknownst to us, the virus was spreading like wildfire, particularly in New York.
In late April and early to mid May, each one of those major, very slow moving planets stationed retrograde. It could be argued that this is when the assurances were being made that it would go away, it would all disappear, and we would be able to return to normal by Memorial Day. Remember that?
Well, just this past Saturday, Jupiter stopped its retrograde movement, stationed direct, and is now moving forward again. Jupiter ‘makes things bigger.’ Saturn, planet of boundaries, restrictions, lessons, and karma will station direct and begin moving forward the last week of September. And then Pluto, planet of transmutation, change, and death, will station direct and begin moving forward on October 3rd. Can’t help but wonder what these planets moving ‘full steam ahead’ might bring.
Hold Your Fire
I encourage you to listen to the podcast I’ve linked. It’s all quite fascinating. And it doesn’t need to be scary. Not by any means. Education and preparation is power. There’s only so much any of us can do individually. But we can remain aware. Plant small seeds. Be prepared.
The ‘theme’ Rick Levine gives for this month is ‘hold your fire.’ It makes total sense when you consider the celestial movements as they relate to our experiences here on Earth, particularly in the United States and the calamitous spewing of revelations we’re being confronted with day after day. It’s important that we not allow ourselves to become exhausted by trying to fight too many huge battles every damn day as we plod through this month and next. It is a temptation we must resist.
We need to allow ourselves to charge our batteries so that when it is time, we will be operating at full power. Take a listen. Especially starting around minute 47 or so. Wow.
I’ve had a frustrating couple of days, but today was by far the worst one yet. I’m not ‘challenging worse,’ as they say (which I am loathe to do), just comparing today’s struggles with the challenges of Friday and Saturday. Pretty much everything I tried to accomplish today felt like I was shouting into the wind.
Nothing seemed to get anywhere. I sent emails and it felt like they went into black holes. And I’m not in any way offering commentary on the recipients of my emails! I frankly doubt whether the emails were ever received.
You’ve heard me complain before about the frustrating lack of speed photos travel when I send them from my iPhone to my computer. It happens randomly, so the best way to try to thwart the issue is by being disciplined. If I think I may want to use it later, I try to remember to send myself – right away – photos I’ve taken during the day. Well, today even emails I was sending to myself seemed to be taking their good ol’ time arriving in my inbox.
And some of them still haven’t arrived. Remember, these are emails I sent to myself. While that’s bad enough, the worst part is that I wouldn’t even know if other people aren’t receiving my emails. That’s frustrating.
My Pick Today
Just as I was writing the paragraph above, I realized that all of this makes sense. I can try to cross things off my list, but when I’m thwarted by silly or little things that I can’t control that literally keep me from taking next steps, it’s wise to take a step back and just breathe.
I chose Salmon2 today – meaning there was a blank card on the bottom of the deck when I chose Salmon as my main card. We interpret that to mean the top card chosen is going to give us a double dose of its medicine or we should pay particular attention to the lessons it’s here to teach us.
As you can imagine, and as I’ve described before, Salmon is all about returning to the place of our creation. An excerpt from Medicine Cards*, by Jamie Sams and David Carson, states:
“Salmon medicine honors every encounter in life as a gathering of wisdom. It teaches that even when the flow of life seems to push you back, you can tap into the hidden resources of your human spirit and personal inner knowing.”
Well, I definitely felt like I was being pushed back in a variety of ways today. Just running into unexpected obstacles, making it impossible for me to complete the tasks I’d written in my ‘to-do’ list.
It’s probably a blessing I’m being reminded now that I chose Salmon2 today. My frustration eases when I recall Salmon’s message. Funny how I forgot.
“The proper use of inner knowing comes when you flow with your authentic feelings, embracing all the experiences you encounter in life as learning lessons rather than hardships. Salmon teaches you to see every bend in the river as a new adventure, with a lesson you need to learn in order to grow.”
New Moon Coming
Later this week (Thursday) the moon will ‘go dark’ as a new moon. It might be a good idea for all of us to evaluate how we’re approaching this fall season of 2020 and ask ourselves if we want to plant some new seeds, some fresh intentions regarding what we want to create in our lives.
I know I’ll be starting something new. Perhaps you’ll join me. Stay tuned.
If you live pretty much anywhere on the East Coast, I’m pretty sure you experienced one of those perfect September days today that’s hard to overstate. The hint of fall puts just the slightest, ever so subtle edge to the air when a breeze rustles your hair and cools you down after mowing the lawn. I feel some measure of guilt when I begin to write about days like today when I see the suffering occurring elsewhere in our country.
The fires in California, Oregon, and Washington are terrifying in their devastation. I find it hard to wrap my mind around what it must feel like to see fire rampaging up a mountain toward my home or hear the otherworldly roar of the inferno as it voraciously consumes everything in its path – and sets its sights on me. Or my husband and children. Or my pets.
The photos of the firefighters, splayed out helter skelter on the coolness of a concrete sidewalk, the air all around them a distorted version of pumpkin spice are beyond disturbing. The stories of people being forced to run – literally attempt to outrun a fire on macadam that burns the shoes off their feet – only to discover their loved ones turned back or never made it out of the driveway boggle the mind.
Dead End
I wrote a bunch of words since writing the paragraph above and I just had to delete them. Yeah, I can mouth the words of trying to find some positive arising out of this devastation and heartache – wisdom, perhaps? Appreciation for what’s really, truly, deeply important? A forced re-set of our life?
But it just rings hollow tonight. Anything I might write as I sit here in my comfy home surrounded by my beloved animals with plenty of food in my refrigerator and pantry, a cool breeze of fresh air pouring in through my windows, is warped by my perception – which is admittedly extremely narrow and unbelievably fortunate.
As I said at the beginning, I cannot imagine the terror of being forced to evacuate my home under the threat of a wildfire.
There are a lot of simply awful things people are being forced to endure this year. Yeah, people get sick and die all the time. But not like this. And yeah, wildfires happen every year. But not like these. And hurricanes form and threaten and pound upon the coast every year. But not as early and often as this year.
We must hang in there. No matter how hard or awful things feel. No matter how much we lose. We must hold onto each other. We have to find a way.
I was on a mission today, a quest of sorts. And in my travels I came upon an astonishingly unexpected message from a source equally unexpected. But in hindsight…
As I drove home in the very late afternoon, I happened to glance into the sky. And there was the biggest Komodo Dragon I’ve ever seen. As I’m wont to do, I checked my rear view mirror and, seeing I was all by my lonesome on this country road, pulled over to whip out my iPhone.
There it was. Clear as day. A Komodo Dragon. A Monitor Lizard.
Bigger Surprise
Imagine my surprise when I got home this evening and looked up Komodo Dragon. To be honest, I didn’t find anything specifically under either Komodo Dragon or Monitor Lizard, but I did find a photo of one in my trusty Animal Speak* (by Ted Andrews) under the generic entry of “Lizard.” And the photo provided clear confirmation that this was indeed the creature the Cloud Beings were forming for my – ahem – perception.
And therein lies the unsubtle persistence of Spirit when it wants me (any of us) to pay attention and listen.
The literal “keynote” associated with Lizards? Subtlety of Perception.
I suspect I should devote additional time and space to deciphering precisely why perception continues to be highlighted as something I (we?) need to pay attention to. But in the few moments I have left this evening, I’ll share two short passages from the entry under Lizards.
“(…)The lizard is the expert at subtle perception. It can sense vibrations through the ground. Its eyes can detect the subtlest of movements, and it has extremely acute hearing. All of these are symbolic of specific forms of clairvoyance practiced in many societies.
(…)
Individuals with a lizard totem should listen to their own intuition over anyone else’s. Lizard usually reflects heightened sensitivity. You feel what others may not. You will see things that others may miss. You will hear things that are not being said. No matter how strange it may seem, learning to follow those perceptions is what will enable you to succeed most frequently.
One of the most significant characteristics of some lizards and their claim to fame is the ability of the tail to come off. A predator may grab for it, its paw landing upon the tail, only to be surprised as the tail breaks off and the lizard scampers to freedom. The lizard then begins the process of growing another in its place.
This detachment is also part of what lizard can teach. They can help us to become more detached in life to survive. Sometimes it is necessary to separate ourselves or part of ourselves from others to be able to do the things we must desire to do. The lizard helps us to awaken that ability for objective detachment so that it can occur with the least amount of difficulty. Lizard can show up to help us break from the past. It may even indicate a need to explore ne realms and follow your own impulses before you get swallowed up in what is not beneficial for you.”
This is definitely significant. Not only to me but to us.
Yesterday I wrote about how getting a wider view of a situation can sometimes yield a bit more of a distressing perspective than expected. I think part of the reason the revelations made in Bob Woodward’s soon-to-be-released book, Rage*, were so jarring to me was the fact that I’d just spent several hours in another world.
Many of you may be thinking I’m referring to journeying, as in I’d taken a shamanic journey, and therefore my consciousness was literally in another world that afternoon. While that could easily hold true on any given day, that wasn’t the case yesterday.
No, prior to the walk on which I took the photos of the clouds in yesterday’s post, I’d driven not ten miles away from my home and entered a paradise. Upon my arrival, I stepped out of my car and yelped in joy over the calliope of life and color bombarding my senses.
Dahlia – photo: L. Weikel
Only Fair
It seems only fair that I share with you the source of the open-hearted joy I felt earlier yesterday – before I returned home. Sadly, it was hard for me to recapture last night the essence of what I felt when I stepped into this wonderland earlier in the day. I allowed my perception of national events to suck almost all of the magic out of my day.
M’s Garden – Photo: L. Weikel
But luckily, I remembered. And I’m reclaiming that joyful life essence now – and want to share it with you.
Some of the dahlias remind me of the glass artistry of Chihuly that Karl and I saw when we were in Seattle a few years ago.
Chihuly Garden and Glass (Seattle) – Photo: L. Weikel
There’s so much beauty in the world, whether it’s Mother Nature bursting forth in multicolored dahlias to blown glass artistry that bursts the imagination. In the midst of the dark and ominous clouds that are approaching we must not forget how things look different in this direction, too.
