It’s been at least four months since I’ve subjected you, my loyal readers, to the odd delight I take in anthropomorphizing the occasional vegetable. It’s something I fear I’ll never disabuse myself of; I can’t help but smile when these creatures reveal themselves, often from the depths of my crisper drawer. And let’s face it, tonight’s candidate isn’t shy about her bon vivant, “Oooh-la-la!”
Maybe it’s the soupy greens on her head that now remind me of a Parisian beret. Or her desire to recline provocatively against a conch shell. (Who wouldn’t?) There’s even a hint of batting eyelashes in her expression if you ask me…
Just Carrots?
I’m wondering if carrots are my unique weakness or if I just don’t buy enough other vegetables to discover their personalities. Or maybe I eat the other vegetables more quickly and therefore consume their individuality before it can be fully expressed? If that’s the case, I feel a bit sad.
Actually, that reminds me. I did find myself drawn to shooting a portrait of a tomato a couple of days ago.
My initial desire was to share the love – it appeared to me, at first glance, to resemble a heart. The commercial kind; you know. The hearts-and-flowers, Valentine’s Day type of heart.
But then, when I looked at it from another angle, I could see it as a face. A grinning, many-toothed tomato that could almost be a cousin to the Cookie Monster.
Time For Bed
I cut up Brussels Sprouts this evening before I steamed them and didn’t find a single one that made me laugh. Same goes for the broccoli rabe I steamed. Maybe they’re just not as photogenic, gregarious – or politically active.
Or maybe it’s just time for me to call it a night and go to bed.
All week I struggled to keep track of what day it was. As I sit here this evening, I’m still wrestling with it. Is tomorrow Saturday? Or Thursday? It almost feels like it was just Tuesday a moment ago and then – blip – here we are. Friday night. Part of my struggle, I know, stems from indulging my inner sloth.
I feel constrained to admit that, no, we did not take a walk today. Both of us were engaged in our usual responsibilities throughout the day as bright sunshine tried vainly but valiantly to persuade us that it wasn’t so bad out. Once the sun went down, though, the die was cast for sure. Neither Karl nor I even tried to muster the necessary ‘evening oomph’ we needed to goad, cajole, or otherwise entice the other to ‘strap up the hound’ and walk.
In fact, when I checked my weather app and saw that the wind chill was 9 degrees that sealed the deal. I knew one thing for sure: Wolf Moon or not, I was going to take a hard pass on walking under that cold-hearted orb that rules the night. (Ht to The Moody Blues; wink wink.)
Ah Yes
Of course, in searching for a link to give you to the above-referenced Days of Future Passed album, I started playing it in the background. Now I’m transported to my days as a 17 year old exchange student in Sweden. I remember one evening in particular. It was winter – probably a January night far colder than tonight – and I had the unique chance to listen to a friend’s album collection. They were away at college and I was able to just be by myself and listen deeply, feeling the feelings.
For whatever reason, I played this one over and over again. Perhaps it reminded me of a certain person I’d left back in the States, but maybe it also was a balm to my soul just listen to English and the poetry of the lyrics that spoke to my young heart.
The Moody Blues and Super Tramp. Those two groups made an indelible impression on me that year. They still do. I’m transported, just listening right now…
Tonight’s full moon is known as the Wolf Moon. It’s also known as the Cold Moon, which for obvious reasons is teeth-chatteringly appropriate this evening. At least that’s true for here in eastern Pennsylvania.
It’s been a while since I wrote about the stars, moon, or planets. I’m not sure why; the past several nights we’ve marveled at how the stars look almost telescopically closer due to the heightened clarity of the winter atmosphere. My Sky Guide app has been getting a workout.
And the moon – as it’s grown from the tiniest sliver over the past two weeks to the blockbuster beacon it is tonight, we knew she’d practically be blinding in her brilliance as long as the clouds held off. Even the smallest crescent this month threw moon shadows. It’s frustrating when the best nights to stargaze (even with the floodlight of a full moon drowning out the paler of the pantheon) are so bitterly cold.
Funny Coincidence
As I may have mentioned the other night, tonight’s full moon is occurring in the sign of Leo. Aside from bringing a bit of drama into our lives and emotions, I discovered a literal connection to tonight’s Leo moon.
Tonight we had another Wagon in the Shamanic Caravan. As I’ve mentioned before, I conduct these Wagons on Zoom. Most people when they’re journeying lay down or get comfortable in a chair, so during the time that they’re actually journeying, they’re usually out of my line of sight.
It took all I could not to burst into laughter, then, when I looked at the video feeds from all the participants on my laptop and all but one had a cat looking right at me. Seeing them all looking at me – looking right into the camera, so to speak – was just a little bit spooky! And then I glanced to my left and there was Cletus, at first just sitting there (like the rest of them!) looking at me. Then he mrrrowed and threw himself on the floor, squirming on his back in playful half-moons, assuming a submissive position that I know full well would result in bloodshed if I actually reached out to pet him.
Yes…I know his tricks. Luckily for me, though, I was rattling, so I wasn’t tempted.
Guardians
The fact that all the cats were especially attentive to the journeying this evening was interesting. They definitely appeared to be in serene guardian poses as their humans ventured off on adventures of consciousness.
One thing I will say: the moon had some fascinating messages for all of us this evening.
One unexpected result of the pandemic, for me, has been my appreciation for the allure of Twitter. While I’m not one to initiate tweets, I readily admit to being a reader of them. I think my fascination with the platform arose during the George Floyd protests. Because I’ve carefully selected the people I ‘follow,’ I honestly feel my exposure to and understanding of the world has expanded tremendously. Mostly this expansion has related to politics, as well as breaking national and international news. But most recently? I was tipped off to watching something I can only say is a must see.
The tweet itself, like this post won’t, didn’t describe the program. In fact, it suggested, as I do as well, that you not read about the premise or, really, do any research on it before watching.
Just approach with an open mind and watch it.
Some Just Can’t
I realize that taking a risk – even if it’s just flirting with the possibility that I’ll waste 90 minutes or two hours on something that’s a dud – is something that floats my boat. It’s an especially intriguing prospect when I get the sense, vague as it might be, that it could push my perception of reality or of who I am. That’s like catnip to Cletus, baby. Sign me up.
But I realize that some of you might not be as turned on by the prospect of indulging in a film that has the potential to shift your conceptions. Maybe you need a little bit of a teaser (even if it’s recommended that you go into it with a paucity of preconceptions). For those of you, I offer the official trailer.
And for those of you who like to read reviews, here’s one from Rolling Stone. Perhaps Rotten Tomatoes is a leading indicator. I just checked and it’s got a 100% rating.
Detox
I recognize that I’ll be snagged back like a fish on a hook to watching what’s happening in Washington D.C. when the impeachment trial begins. And I admit to relishing the ability to peek in on press briefings from Jen Psaki, President Biden’s new Press Secretary, or to occasionally listen to highlights of briefings on Covid and the Climate Crisis.
But I must confess. After watching the interview I referenced last night with Senator Schumer, I’m actually giving myself permission to enter into a more comprehensive detoxification. I do not need to compulsively check my Twitter feed to assure myself we’re not on the brink of another crisis.
That’s not to say appalling information, especially with respect to the plotting behind the 1/6 insurrection, isn’t continuing to come to light. It is. And there are expositions of scandals buried and time bombs planted by the previous administration (hopefully not literally) just waiting to be revealed.
But for the first time in a very long time I’m starting to feel like I can breathe between crises.
And that means I can start taking the time again to contemplate the stuff that makes life worth living. My focus can return to that which reminds me of the magic of life. It’s that magic that feeds my passion for shamanic work and writing and journeying and listening.
Stir Your Soul
So…take a risk. Trust me. Don’t follow the links above. Instead, just watch In & Of Itself on Hulu. You need to see it to believe it. Or do you?
I’ve been strapped in and riding an emotional rollercoaster since November 3rd, 2020. The ups and downs! Good grief; at various moments they’ve caused my stomach to lurch up into my throat and in others my heart to drop to my toes. In spite of all the remarkable victories that were achieved for so many who believe in democracy, justice, and the essential goodness of people, the rumors and rumblings I heard emanating from Washington D.C. were starting to take a toll. But then: a ray of hope. Actually, a brilliant, shining, beam of hope.
The first major hill of the most recent rollercoaster ride was climbed in that slow, click-click-click crawl, as we approached Election Day. So to be clear, I’m not even referencing what it’s felt like to live through most of the past four years. No; I’m starting this ‘ride’ just before the election.
We all knew Election Day was fraught with potential opportunities for disaster, sabotage, violence, or other shenanigans. So the days leading up to the election were experienced through the lens of an undercurrent of dread. We were all just trying to hold ourselves and our country together while ‘expecting the unexpected.’ Not an easy task, especially with so much at stake.
Cresting the Hill
We crested that first major incline of the rollercoaster and started tearing down the other side. DT claimed false victory in the early morning hours of November 4th, but about five days or so later, with almost all of the mail in votes finally counted in states that weren’t allowed to begin counting them until after in-person voting took place, a different result was ‘called.’
Over the next couple of weeks we were whipped side-to-side as onslaught after onslaught was waged on our system. Some states were subjected to outrageous accusations and my emotions, I’ll admit, were especially attenuated, as I took great umbrage at people (both inside and outside my state) wielding lies about Pennsylvania in particular.
Then there was the Georgia run-off election of two Senators in early January. The fact that both the first Black man and the first Jewish man ever were elected to represent Georgia was a great and miraculous day indeed. What a message of inclusion and power-to-the-people those results conveyed.
Whip-Sawed Senses
And then there was January 6th, 2021: a day that will truly live in more infamy than even Pearl Harbor because this attack on our country, on our republic, on our sacred halls of democracy, and our sense of democratic principles was perpetrated by our fellow citizens.
Following the horror of what transpired for all the world to see, I started hearing rumblings of ‘power sharing’ with the Republicans. I heard rumors that Mitch McConnell was up to his old tricks of outrageously abusive manipulations of Senate rules and norms. And worse, it sounded like the Democrats, in spite of their (albeit slim) majorities in both Houses of Congress and the White House, were going to roll over.
To be honest, this is when I started feeling a sense of abject hopelessness. My roller coaster ride was making me feel nauseous.
It was as if the skies parted and I heard some voices singing. So…in case you missed it, here’s an interview that I encourage you to watch in full, especially if you’ve been feeling the way I was feeling.
I’m also attaching the transcript, in case you don’t want to watch the interview. But I have to tell you: the idealism and fire emanating from Senator Schumer is almost intoxicating. It’s definitely a beam of hope.
If you read my post from last night, you know I was hoping to write about photos I’d taken during the walk Karl and I took last night. Sometimes circumstances all dovetail perfectly to create a moment of such astral magnificence that your breath catches in your throat and you wonder if your heart can hold it all. That’s kind of what we felt last night.
And it’s also why I talked about the Wagons of fellow journeyers (Travelers) I’m setting up each week as part of my Shamanic Caravan. One of the participants last night tried to describe the ‘space’ she’d experienced and it was obvious to all of us that the experience bordered on indescribable loveliness.
Over the years I’ve had a few journeys in which I’ve traveled to places that reminded me of being in the middle of a photograph from the Hubble Spacecraft. They sort of gave me an exquisite sense of being immersed in infinity.
Trust me, the vast majority of journeys that I’ve experienced have been far more mundane. Just writing that sentence sort of makes me laugh, though. What’s mundane – ever – about a first-hand experience of another reality?
Winter Night Sky – Photo: L.Weikel
Last Night’s Sky
The first set of photos I sent to myself last night never arrived. By the time it got to be 4:30 this afternoon and they still hadn’t appeared, I re-sent them to myself. Voila! But a short hour later (eye roll), they arrived in my inbox.
The sky this evening was overcast and the moon, which is waxing to reach fullness by this Thursday, was barely visible behind a thick layer of wooly clouds full of winter wetness. The look and feel of the two nights, while back to back, could barely have been more disparate.
No.
Tonight we were closed in. Colors all around us were muted and bleak. The murky sky admitted a moon existed but gave it no respect.
Last night? We witnessed majesty. Shadows, although sharply defined, weren’t at all scary. They simply offered refreshing clarity. But the greatest gift was when we looked up. Up and out and drank in the stars and the light catching wispy forms of…something.
One of the photos gives me the unmistakable sense of the presence of Great Beings. And perhaps we were. Or are. Maybe last night we were peeking behind the curtain of the Wizard of Oz and seeing the truth of what’s actually the foundation of the journeys we’re taking.
All I know is, I want to share this magnificence with all of you.
It’s been a while since the last time this happened. I emailed myself a handful of photos from our walk this evening and intended to focus my post on them tonight. Alas, it’s been over an hour and they still haven’t made the journey from iPhone to laptop. But, there’s still another hour or so before the ‘witching hour’ to hit the <publish> button arrives, so my intentions for this evening’s missive may or may not, in fact, be thwarted. (Turns out – they were. Guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow night…)
But I have a feeling.
Post-Wagon
Instead of walking during the sunshine of this afternoon, Karl and I took our daily walk tonight, after our Sunday early evening Wagon. You may recall, I’m offering 60-90 minute ‘Wagons’ on various days and times, as part of my Shamanic Caravan. These Wagons are opportunities for people interested in shamanic journeying to gather together in Sacred Space while I rattle and hold space for them. Everyone journeys for themselves, setting their own intentions, but with the power of a group of like-minded individuals sort of super-charging the efforts of the collective.
So far, we’ve settled into a routine of three Wagons a week, offered at various times during the day. Tuesdays at noon, Thursdays at 7:00 p.m., and Sundays at 5:00 p.m., all ET. I just moved the Sunday Wagon from 4:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. to give everyone a little bit more time to enjoy as much daylight as possible before settling in for the evening.
Our Wagon today yielded some very clear and practical guidance to the Travelers participating. What’s especially fascinating (and very cool) is how my fellow journeyers are discovering newfound allies who are providing insight and perspectives on questions asked on previous journeys. It’s as if Spirit is paying attention to everything (I know, why should this surprise me?) – and providing conduits for answers and insights as we are ready to receive them.
Or who knows? Perhaps additional answers are forthcoming because journeying on a regular basis is displaying a sense of commitment and discipline to the process that Spirit appreciates (and rewards).
Whatever it is, I’m personally thrilled at the results being experienced by my fellow ‘Travelers.’ I feel like we’re just scratching the surface of understanding the rich expanses of inner wisdom we all have available to us.
Night Sky
I wanted to share the photos I took on this evening’s walk because I felt they were reflecting at least some of the majestic grandeur displayed by Spirit as some of the journey details were shared. Sometimes it feels like words only limit the actual experience being described, which I know from my own experience happens all too frequently. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to find the words to even scratch the surface of the multi-sensory experiences that can occur on a journey.
Give It a Try
While I didn’t initiate this post as another invitation to join in on our Shamanic Caravan, I guess that’s what it ended up being.
If you’re interested in participating, drop me an email (lisa@owlmedicine.com) with Shamanic Caravan in the subject line. I’ll include you in the weekly emails of dates and times of journeys – although, as I mentioned, there’s almost always one every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday. Price is $20 per individual, $35 for couples. If interested, an email with weekly offerings and payment instructions will be sent, with a Zoom link following upon payment.
Do you need journeying experience? No. If you’ve never journeyed before, I will send you some simple “Rules of the Road” beforehand. I’ll go over them with you and answer any questions you might have before your first journey.
The great thing about the Wagons in the Shamanic Caravan is, again, the power of the group energy. It supports and buoys you as you gain confidence in your own unique abilities.
Journeying is not unlike yoga for your spirit. (I know yoga is a spiritual practice as well. But for many it is mostly physical.) Engaging in a Wagon on a regular basis is a form of flexing and building up your spiritual muscles, enhancing your ability to engage in and cultivate relationships with your inner guides, allies, and wisdom-keepers.
Tigger (looking like how I feel) – Photo: L. Weikel
A Word
It’s weird. The past four years have felt like a never ending slog across the Arctic tundra. Buffeted by gale force winds that seemed to threaten to freeze our faces off, we nevertheless persisted. We endured the daily challenges to credulity. In spite of threats and breaches no one truly imagined we’d encounter, we managed to survive. And now…now I search for a word.
I’m looking for the word that captures the strange feeling I’ve been trying to discern and name since awakening Thursday. Honestly, I thought I’d figure it out and shed the feeling after a couple of days. But it’s persisting. And I’m not sure what to do with it.
One word that pops into my head but may not truly capture what I’m feeling is ennui. That word might also be popping into my head simply because I like the look and sound of it. It’s a neat word.
Merriam-Webster defines ennui as: noun. a feeling of weariness and dissatisfaction.
Moving Forward
Yeah, I can get onboard with that definition. At least, I can affirm that ennui captures at least part of what I’ve been flirting with over the past couple of days.
A more visceral description of how I feel might be what it’s like when I watch Tigger stalk a mouse. He will patiently stand on our stove top for what could be hours at a time. (We have a gas range and the little jerks occasionally – especially during the winter – make forays into our kitchen via this very old fashioned appliance.)
He’ll wait and wait and wait. Once the poor little mouse thinks the coast is clear, it’ll poke its head out and Tigger will snag it with his paw and flip it to the floor. If it darts behind the water bowl or into the open cupboard housing Spartacus’s leash, he’ll relish another opportunity to stalk. But once the critter is caught, I can almost see Tigger shrug. Meh. His work here is done.
I can’t tell you how many somewhat traumatized (yet living and breathing) mice I’ve taken outside and told to find a new home if they don’t want to endure this again.
I sort of feel like Tigger. And I’m not sure what I need or want to do to move past this sense of…ennui.
I’ve written about it before, and I’ll admit, the challenge continues. It’s real. I’m cautiously optimistic that this week’s inauguration will provide at least some respite to the nearly insatiable desire to self-soothe through comfort food. That said, we are still in the midst of a pandemic, and from the sound of things, everything could be on the brink of getting dramatically worse. All of which is to say: The stress of daily living appears in no hurry to diminish. Therefore, I need options. Preferably sweet options.
Why? Because the last kiffel disappeared today – as stealthily as DT did on Wednesday morning. And while I’m paying the price for the stress of the election and its aftermath (and feeling it when I put on my clothes), I must admit: I need to distract myself from ingesting the last remaining vestiges of holiday mischief still lurking about. These evil tempters are especially insidious at night, waiting to taunt and cajole me when I’m up late at night writing my 1111 Devotion.
Andy to the Rescue!
Yesterday, our postman, Andy, brought us an exciting delivery: a jar of Bark + Bee honey. Talk about sweet options! The prospect of this golden gift of the bees drizzled over a smattering of walnuts and topping a cup of plain Icelandic yogurt is even more tantalizing than an ice cream sundae. That’s because it satisfies my as-yet-unsated (if that’s not a word, it should be) urge for the dopamine effects of comfort and knowledge that all is well. And it’s good for me!
The cool thing is, beyond the universally known benefits of honey and plain, low fat yogurt, the addition of Bark + Bee honey, in particular, benefits both – you guessed it – dogs and bees!
Just…yum – Photo: L. Weikel
Bark + Bee Honey Company
The brainchild of two young women entrepreneurs in Princeton, NJ, cousins Laila Palmer and Gabby Issa, Bark + Bee Honey Company was created to both support their neighboring bee populations and provide much-needed funds (100% of their profits) to local dog shelters.
Sweet options abound! From choosing honey from local beekeepers whose bees work to pollinate the myriad crops of the Garden State to supporting facilities that foster pups for adoption rather than those offered by breeders for profit, what’s not to love?
Read More About It
Check out this article about the creation of Bark + Bee and bee inspired (wink wink). And if you’re trying to wean yourself off your own cycle of less than ideal self-soothing, consider this sweet option. You’ll be supporting yourself, Mother Earth, her bees, and her pups. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Every once in a while I’ll see something or hear a song on the radio (or one that randomly plays on my iPhone) that makes me feel like Karl is checking in on us. Shortly after he died, his energy was very present. I didn’t have to be psychic to notice his efforts to communicate and get our attention.
After some weeks and months, he seemed to settle into using my iPod (and then my iPhone, which had the same music library as the iPod) as his favorite, most effective means of communication. Indeed, I swear there were hundreds of songs on my device that I only heard for the first time when they began playing as I drove my car with the song set on ‘random.’ The uncannily perfect lyrics to so many songs that played – and my astonishment each time as I realized what the lyrics were actually saying and how they could easily have been coming out of his mouth at that moment – were simultaneously heart breaking and soul mending.
As the months have turned to years, Karl’s presence has diminished. I hoped it wouldn’t, obviously. While I could no longer put my arms around him or look in his eyes as we talked or see the flash of his smile, I could still hear his voice. Through the songs he chose and even the order in which he literally would have a play list lined up for me sometimes, he conveyed sarcasm, wit, occasional regret, sadness, and almost always somewhere in there an auric iteration of love.
Occasionally, he would choose songs that utterly freaked me out in their uncanny relevance to something I might be thinking about or experiencing that no one else in the world knew about.
Rainbows
There are certain animals that cross my path (and the paths of our nuclear family) that have particular significance or connection to Karl. Rainbows, too, seemed to show up as exclamation points or reinforcements to other communications, often appearing literally on objects that were connected to him. He managed to arrange for some pretty elaborate displays of light a couple of times, almost always when there was an especially important (to him) message to convey.
Even the rainbows have dwindled in occurrence over the past year or so.
I try not to wish for more frequent communications any longer. Given my experiences in other realms, I am acutely aware that life goes on. Not just for us here on Earth, but for those who shed their bodies here and move on to the next opportunity for their soul’s evolution.
I do sense, however, that he checks in on us every once in a while.
Which leads me to the photo accompanying this post. I took it the morning of the inauguration. I have not seen a rainbow in this location in our living room prior to seeing the one in this photo.
Karl and I saw it at almost exactly the same moment. We pointed, laughed, and said, “Karl’s here.”
We sensed it was a sign that hope was on the horizon. But no matter how things work out, now or in the future, the knowledge within our hearts that life survives death changes everything.
