Blog ~ Ruffled Feathers

Thoughts, ideas, perspectives, ruminations. If we make it through life without ruffling a few feathers, have we really lived?

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Praying Mantises – Day 1035

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Praying Mantis’s Face – Photo: L. Weikel

Praying Mantises

It’s that time of year again: the magical days of September when the sky can’t possibly become bluer and the sweet scent of fall flirts with our senses. It’s also the time when Praying Mantises migrate across our local country roads from field to forest. I don’t know why they choose not to fly. I don’t know why they seem to luxuriate in the warmth of the black macadam of the roadway. But this annual trek from one side of the road to another doesn’t seem to be evolutionarily a wise trajectory.

I’ve written about Praying Mantises each and every September since beginning this 1111 Devotion in November of 2018. They were Sheila’s favorite autumn snack. While I miss her terribly, it’s amusing to think back on how much she relished these creatures. This time of year, which was also her birth month, yielded perfect temperatures and crunchy green snacks.

It’s curious how Spartacus (her son) had no taste for them for years. Or perhaps he didn’t want to get between his mother and her snacks. That’s a possibility… This year, though, he’s been eating them with gusto, channeling his inner Sheila.

Photo: L. Weikel

Don’t Mess With the Live Ones

He has learned through direct experience that the only tasty Praying Mantis is a dead Praying Mantis. He mistakenly approached a live one the other day and clearly encountered an unequivocal, “Hell no!” He must’ve jumped a foot off the ground in surprise and there may even have been a surprised, “Yip!” in the mix. Since then, he has approached all potential green roadkill with a more circumspect attitude.

The photos I’m including tonight are of one that seemed extremely aware of our presence but was not inclined to move off the road. It watched me take its photo, which was a tad eerie.

“You talking to me?” Photo: L. Weikel

Stillness

Today these insects were crossing the road in droves. The lore surrounding them often focuses on their deliberative movements and opportunistic hunting qualities. (They’ve been known to wait patiently on feeders to kill hummingbirds.) They’re renowned for their patience and stillness.

I think I’m going to practice more of that tomorrow. Stillness feels like the message I need to hear.

Praying Mantis encounter – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-76)

Unspeakable Beauty – Day 1034

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Waxing Moon in Scorpio 10 Sept 2021 – Photo: L. Weikel

Unspeakable Beauty

There’s something magical about September days. It’s possible to experience one or two and feel transformed simply by the unspeakable beauty and perfection that unfolds simply by ‘being.’

There’s going to be a lot of recalled trauma this weekend, especially tomorrow. Grief and sorrow will abound. Disappointment, regret, and rage will also be among the greatest hits.

Our feelings are our feelings. No one can reasonably tell us how we feel or how we ‘should’ feel. But there comes a time when the realization hits us that just feeling the feelings isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to purge them so they be transmuted or channel them into useful action.

Monarch sipping – Photo: L. Weikel

Be In Nature

If you do anything tomorrow, please: make a point of allowing yourself to be in nature. Seize the opportunity to bask in the warmth of the sun while a cool, refreshing breeze ruffles your hair and caresses your brow.

Take comfort from the birds and animals, trees and flowers and grasses with which we share this planet.

Remember to breathe.

Allow yourself to continue dreaming the dreams that only a few days ago you planted as seeds at the new moon. Look toward the west and the setting sun and pay attention to the crescent moon growing every single day. Know that it’s reflecting how your aspirations for the future, your passions for how you want to live your life are growing moment by moment. Ever so slightly, perhaps, but inexorably.

And all the while we’re surrounded by vibrant colors and astounding creatures that – if and when we notice them – make our human lives infinitely richer.

Bee finding the sweetness – Photo: L. Weikel

Find the Sweetness

So much has changed in the past twenty years. So much has changed in the past ten. It’s important to look back and appreciate what we’ve lived through, what we’ve endured, and what we’ve lost.

But it’s even more important to taste the sweetness of now.

(T-77)

Odd Experience – Day 1033

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments

Odd Experience

I had an odd experience the other day. I’m glad I at least managed to take photos of the phenomenon I saw, although the truly eerie nature of the encounter isn’t readily evident. It can’t be conveyed in a still shot. That’s because what made the phenomenon especially weird was the way it appeared to be a roiling, tumbling fluid of some kind contained within a circular boundary.

It didn’t ‘visit’ with me for long. And yeah, I know. I probably sound a bit goofy attributing sentient characteristics to a ball of light on my porch ceiling, but you had to be here.

I don’t know what caught my attention at first, but I am posting sequential photos in the order I took them. The first, of course, is what I saw when I first recognized it was there and ‘sensed the presence.’

The Progression

As you can see, it started out as a simple round reflection on the roof of our porch. The circumference of the circle was well defined and there was no movement whatsoever within the circle. Quite simply, it looked like a reflection from a perfectly round mirror.

I say ‘quite simply,’ but the very presence of a perfectly round reflection of light on the underbelly of our porch is strange. I looked around for what could be reflecting a perfect circle like that and could find nothing. Nary a birdbath nor a mirror (literal or otherwise) was to be found. Not a glass or bowl of water, either.

When it first appeared – Photo: L. Weikel

But then the reflection (if you can call it that) got really strange. It started swirling and looping on the inside, while consistently maintaining its circular shape. It looked familiar. Was it reminding me of a molecule? A virus?

What in the world was I seeing?

Starting to gain a textured appearance – Photo: L. Weikel

Dead End Search

I tried to find the source of this reflection. Or phenomenon. Or whatever you want to call it. I reasoned that the source would have to be at or below the level of where I was sitting, since it was reflecting onto the porch ceiling – and there is a lip or overhang on our porch. So the source would have to be from below.

Zooming in on it – Photo: L. Weikel

I found nothing.

I’d been working on a project before initially noticing the orb’s reflection. And shortly after photographing it and searching without success for its source, my attention returned to the work I was engaged in and I ‘forgot’ the substance of this experience.

Is that what happens when we encounter the unexplained? We just forget about it?

I haven’t seen it since.

I only wish I could post the ‘live action’ photos of it in this blog. The way the light and shadows were moving within that sphere was mesmerizing.

Constantly moving and turning – such an odd experience – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-78)

Shying Away – Day 1032

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Photo: L. Weikel

Shying Away

If you are shying away from the inevitable commemorations and wall-to-wall coverage that will be taking place over the next several days (especially on Saturday), I’m with you. And I’ll admit it: there’s a part of me that feels a little guilty about my visceral desire to avoid revisiting that horrific event.

That’s why I’m the first one to confess how shocked I am that I’m rushing to get this post written. Why? Because I’ve been immersed in the MSNBC special Memory Box: Echoes of 9/11. It is well worth your time.

We All Cope Differently

Everyone deals with the unthinkable in their own way. I’m not one for hashing and rehashing trauma and tragedy. That’s not to say that I don’t see the value in it for others. Sometimes we need to see and replay what we experienced because it was too shocking in the moment to comprehend. I get that. Believe me, I’ve hashed and rehashed some of my own traumatic moments. But over the years, it’s often felt to me like our honoring of 9/11 was exploitive.

The attacks on 9/11 not only inflicted devastating wounds on thousands of people personally, they also ripped away a lot of illusions we held as a country, leaving us feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable and afraid. Airing repeated images of the devastation only picked those scabs and made us bleed, year after year.

Transmuting the Pain

My personal preference is not to relive those excruciating hours of disbelief, fear for loved ones, and uncertainty about, well, everything. I would rather focus on transmuting the heartache into greater understanding and solidarity. I feel this was a huge missed opportunity as both our country and the world came together immediately afterward.

Indeed, it’s probably fair to say the unbelievable horror and loss (on so many levels) of that day and its aftermath – both short and long term – changed most of us. Indeed, I have to wonder if our focus on vengeance instead of understanding was the poisonous seed that, in its sprouting, has led to the rending of our hearts and our country.

Perspective and Story

My belief in the power of speaking and writing our truth is unshakable. I’m particularly fond of the written word because it is so accessible to all of us and also gives us the opportunity to go back and reflect upon what we’ve written after time has intervened. It’s through the telling of our stories that we effect that transmutation of our pain and transformation of our lives.

The artistic and healing project represented by Memory Box: Echoes of 9/11 is powerful, heartfelt, and hopeful. I’m glad I watched it. It’s soulful and poignant and personal, and gives us all a unique perspective into the varied experiences of those who were right there and how their lives have been transformed by that fateful day.

Lightning – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-79)

Weird Cloud – Day 1031

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
A weird cloud caught my attention – Photo: L. Weikel

Weird Cloud

A day or two after the remnants of Hurricane Ida spawned tornadoes, torrential rain, and massive flooding near my home, I saw a weird cloud in the sky as I was taking a walk. I’m sure it shocks you all to know I took a photo of it. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever post it. Believe it or not, I take a lot of nature photos that I never end up sharing. But it felt sort of haunting.

In fact, it felt like I was being watched over or at the very least observed by an Elder or an Ancestor. Actually, while it sounds more romantic (or do I mean comforting?) to attribute a sense of guardianship or protection emanating from this Cloud Being, the truth is that I felt observed.

As soon as I saw it, actually, I was reminded of a Maasai warrior. It made me wonder what people of the Maasai culture would think of how we live. I can’t imagine that they don’t have a strong sense that life here on Earth is in danger, and that the western cultures, especially, are throwing everything into environmental disarray.

I comforted myself by observing (a tad defensively, I’ll admit) that at least I was walking (as opposed to driving a vehicle) and lucky enough to be surrounded by fields and forests instead of concrete, steel, and macadam.

No Judgment

Of course, while I write that I felt no judgment flowing toward me from this Cloud Being, I did feel a tinge of sadness around his edges. I’m not sure if the sadness was for Mother Earth as a whole or for humanity – or maybe just that faction of humanity that is inflicting itself on the rest of the world.

I wonder: what will it take for us to break free of the propaganda that’s keeping us locked in a cycle of believing we can’t afford to tackle climate change head on? We are in the midst of watching the world – and for those of us who only pay attention when it impacts us, our entire country – lurch from one devastating event to another.

Perhaps that’s precisely what this Cloud Being was wondering as well. What will it take? And will it happen soon enough? (Soon enough for what is the obvious next question…)

(T-80)

A Most Perfect Time – Day 1030

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
XI – Strength – The Tarot of the Crone by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince

A Most Perfect Time

A new moon in the sign of Virgo occurred this evening at 8:51 p.m. Eastern Time. New beginnings. Setting new goals. A most perfect time to change things up in our lives, make fresh commitments, and start actively dreaming a new world into being.

The power of this particular new moon is magnified, of course, by the fact that it also marks the beginning of the Jewish New Year celebration of Rosh Hashanah, which began at sundown. The added ritual, prayer, and sacredness being brought to this month’s new moon precisely because of its significance to our Jewish brothers and sisters only adds to the power of this moment.

Yes, every new moon is a new beginning of one sort or another. But we’re also quite aware of the fact of power in numbers. There’s an energetic upgrade to our thoughts and efforts when we gather together to envision our future. So now more than ever it feels essential to our survival to work together toward imagining greater understanding, facilitating peace, and perhaps even seeking justice.

Spiritual Miracle Gro®

I asked for a card to serve as a form of fertilizer for the seeds we’re planting at this powerful new moon and New Year. The card that revealed itself from my Tarot of the Crone deck was Strength.

Perhaps this message can serve as a meditation or point of reflection this week:

“I am Spirit

Making a body

Is what I do

 

I am Body

Expressing a spirit

Is what I do

 

You are Primal

You are Sublime

 

You are the Strongest

When both are One

In Strength is the image of a woman arising from the belly of a golden cobra. The background is the red of healthy power and passion. Strength is enlightened flesh, the life force flowing from your heart, from your belly and from your spirit. Strength is the power of kundalini, the energy ‘snake’ that uncoils from the base of the spine and rises up, bringing healing and knowledge. This is not about spirit taming the body, or lusts of the body overpowering the spirit; this is integration; this is knowing these are not separate things. Spirit and will are not attributes of the mind alone. Emotion is not felt only by the heart. Your body holds them all.

Whatever shape your body is in right now, it’s time to celebrate its life. Know that every breath you take feeds your power and infuses you with goodness and inspiration. Every breath you take is a victory over the forces of destruction. Feel how each cell of your body is an entire endless universe and how al of it, all of it, belongs to you.”

A Thought

It occurs to me as I share these words of Ellen Lorenzi-Prince (creator of The Tarot of the Crone) that this specific interpretation of the Strength card could not be more perfect for the times we find ourselves in.

Given the misogynistic ‘law’ passed by the Texas legislature ripping power over women’s bodies away from women themselves and handing it over to random religious zealot vigilantes, I have a feeling we’re going to see the Power of Woman rise up. It’s going to be a new day in Texas and this country.

Women will not knuckle under to this fear-based oppression. On the contrary, now that the stakes have been set, and the gauntlet thrown (thank you, Supreme Court), we will rise up from the belly of the cobra – precisely like the woman in the Strength image. It is a most perfect time for us to do so. Our bodies hold our spirits, will, and emotion. And I guarantee we will not relinquish our power to the fear-based minority (the forces of destruction) who quake at what they do not know or understand.

(T-81)

A Peeve – Day 1029

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Today’s Peeve – Photo: L. Weikel

A Peeve

With the advent of almost-cool-enough-to-be-fall weather, many of us are seizing the opportunity to break out the sweaters we put away last spring. Others of us are engaging in activity that turns out to be equally as seasonal, and predictable, but is far more aggravating. I call it the “time of the Return of a Peeve.”

Mind you, while this raises my blood pressure and makes me want to scream, I have to be honest. It does not rise to ‘pet’ peeve status. Alas, it remains fated to be a mere peeve.

My World Book Dictionary defines ‘peeve’ as follows:

n. 1 an annoyance. 2 a peevish mood or disposition.

To be clear, the clockwork resurgence of this activity is most definitely a colossal annoyance to all of us. But given the list of peeves both great and small from which I can choose this evening, I can’t say it rises to the level of one of my ‘pet’ peeves.

The Peeve In Question

Every spring and every fall there’s a resurgence of one particular type of litterbug: bikers. And by ‘biker’ I mean the bicycling kind. I’m guessing the lovers-of-two-wheelers come out in droves in spring and fall in particular because, as each year passes, summer more and more mimics Death Valley.

I’m also making the educated guess that they’re ‘bikers’ (again – not the motorized kind but rather the pedaled variety) because the trash, like the photo above shows, is almost always associated with ‘energy’ and often makes promises of ‘rocket fuel for the body’ or ‘instant stamina.’ And it’s almost always, always, always in gel form.  <<shudder>>

Finally, yet another basis for my accusation is that I’ve personally encountered this particular brand of litter most often when taking a walk after I’ve seen a pack of riders fly by. These are usually middle age to older guys contemplating retirement but making too much money to actually take the plunge. So they weekend warrior it and shout about investment strategies or office intrigue for all the world to hear, while leaving us lowly walkers in their dust. Or rather, in their garbage.

Oblivious

I’d say seven times out of ten after being passed by a pack of cyclists there’s a health food store’s assortment of empty gel packs strewn in the weeds along the road. I’ve wanted to scream at them that our roads aren’t their garbage cans, but to what avail? They hardly pay attention to walkers as it is. The same goes for when they pass our house in roving packs like wild dogs. Inevitably, there’s some form of trashy evidence that they’ve paid our hamlet a visit.

Who does this? The packaging isn’t biodegradable, either. It just boggles my mind that they seem to love to bike along our amazing back roads that are filled with hills and curves and challenges as well as stunning beauty. And then just rip open their sustenance and chuck it – as if the people who live here are the clean-up crew for the Tour de France.

Yeah. It’s a peeve. But I find no joy in it whatsoever. So I won’t promote it to the level of a pet.

Bicyclists, please. Do better.

(T-82)

Around the Corner – Day 1028

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Spider Climbs to Venus – Photo: L. Weikel

Around the Corner

Our walk tonight was spectacular. For one thing, the weather was just cool enough to warrant me wearing a sweatshirt, instilling an air of coziness and hinting of the change of seasons just around the corner. Wispy clouds embroidered whimsical figures overhead. I swear they were forming a grand circle above us, not unlike a zodiac projected onto the early evening sky.

On the first leg of our journey, five or six massive dragonflies vied for our attention. They were darting and dive-bombing and moving so quickly, it’s a miracle I managed to catch them at all with my iPhone. I did snag one midflight – and it looks eerily like a massive Army helicopter. The funniest part about the dragonflies was how they lost interest in us as soon as we’d captured a few photos. It really did seem like they wanted to flirt with the camera.

Dragonfly mid-flight – Photo: L. Weikel

Venus

As we neared the crest of the final hill of our walk and were engulfed in the vast western sky, Venus grabbed my attention. I asked her for patience, as I knew I would take her photo as soon as we moved beyond the typical obstructions of poles and electrical wires.

Weaving her way to Venus – Photo: L. Weikel

Finally, I looked across the grasses sprouting an evening dew and saw an exquisitely delicate process taking place right before my eyes. It was in that moment that I realized how sacred everything is that we encounter on our walks. Here we were, just walking along and found ourselves witnessing a spider literally spinning her way to Venus.

We saw her drop down quickly, as if sliding down the pole of a firehouse, then swing back up, drawing herself closer and closer to the distant planet apparently calling to her, as well. Yet again, I wish I could share the live action of my photos because this spider truly was choreographing something special.

Bats Galore

And then, after oohing in appreciation of the sunset’s palette and the sweet juxtaposition of the spider and Venus, we finally turned and set our sights on the penultimate leg of our journey. This entails entering a tunnel of trees that, earlier in the season, yields hundreds of lightning bugs rising from the forest floor on either side of the road.

Tonight, instead of lightning bugs, we were escorted and entertained by bats fluttering above our heads. Karl swears they’re attracted to my hair. But the thought of bats getting caught in people’s hair is, I’m fairly certain, a myth. These creatures are expert flyers – I’m not going to waste my time worrying that they’re going to miscalculate and get tangled in my hair. (And if they do? Hmm. Well. I’ll deal with that as it comes…)

In the meantime, I tried to get a photo of them. They were darting, bobbing, and weaving even more than the dragonflies had been earlier. I took a bunch of photos, mostly on instinct. And that’s what I love about the ‘live’ photos taken on an iPhone. It’s possible to go into edit mode and isolate a ‘still’ of one of the string that creates the illusion of a live photograph – and sometimes you find you’ve captured magic.

As you can see, I did get a shot of three bats at once. And the other photo gives you some sense of how surprisingly large some of those bats appeared.

Bats messing with us – Photo: L. Weikel

Play More

I have to say, though – just as the dragonflies had done earlier, the bats seemed to be expressing a distinct sense of playfulness.  They were clearly dancing and flirting with us – almost daring us to try to get a photograph of them.

Perhaps they were conspiring to remind us to play. Or dance. Or just zig and zag and goof around a bit. I don’t think we do that nearly often enough. And who knows what’s waiting for us just around the corner.

Yes, this really is a bat – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-83)

Road Closed – Day 1027

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Near Stover Mill – Photo: L. Weikel

Road Closed

I managed to get to my usual spot on the Tohickon today. I’d been precluded yesterday by a “road closed” sign, which I’d assumed was erected because water continued to overflow the creek’s banks making the cartway impassable.

Apparently that was not technically the case.

Well, I suppose that could’ve been true yesterday; certainly from what I found at the spot where I usually sit and write. But there was more to the story.

Uprooted – Photo: L. Weikel

Unstoppable

There’s something deceptive about the nature of water. It seems so pliant somehow. You know: it flows and goes aroundthings. But you know what? Water is incredibly powerful and persistent. Yeah; it may choose to go around things if given the opportunity. It’ll yield.

But block it entirely? Stand in its way? All bets are off. It will get where it is going. It can be relentless and unmerciful in its determination to proceed toward its destination.

As you can guess, it was that unrelenting determination that created the situation causing the ‘road closed’ sign to remain in the middle of the road today. (Yes, I went around the sign. Carefully.) The fact that I saw a local pickup approach me from the other way indicated I’d probably be able to get through.

I’ll admit, though. I was shocked that my sweet, sweet Tohickon had ripped up the road’s macadam and hurled the massive chunks into the guardrails. But there it was.

Detritus Measurer – Photo: L.Weikel

Astoundingly Deep

I navigated the crater and got myself to the place beside the creek where I most often sit. I drove very slowly along the road that  parallels the Tohickon. The roadbed was mud covered and littered with piles of small stones and larger rocks. Massive branches of trees and actual logs were strewn haphazardly on both sides of the swollen, still-raging tributary.

Across the road from the creek, dead fish dangled from limbs of uprooted trees that hadn’t been there before the storm.

It took me a moment to realize just how much the Tohickon had risen in the storm and its aftermath. But there it was, beside the uprooted bushes. A leafless skeleton of a tree stood like a sentinel beside the roiling water. Flood detritus (leaves, grasses, and some trash) continued to cling to this pole, leaving evidence not only of how swiftly it had been carried but also how high the water had reached.

I felt my stomach lurch. The evidence reached well over 7’ above the creek’s current surface. I stood in front of the tree for comparison. It was hard to comprehend both how much water had to have been barreling through where I stood and how quickly it had come and gone. For some reason, it seemed especially difficult to convey with my photos just how astoundingly deep, wide (and wild) my creek had become during the storm.

But there was the proof.

Do not underestimate the relentless power of water.

Hard to imagine – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-84)

Filled to the Brim – Day 1026

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Aqueduct in Point Pleasant, PA 2 Sept 2021 – Photo: L. Weikel

Filled to the Brim

No matter where you look, it seems we’re filled to the brim. Our creeks and rivers are overflowing with water. Our forests are filled with the hot fury of fire. Our hearts are filled with shock, rage, fear, and hopefully, equal or greater measures of love, compassion, and hope.

I don’t have a lot to say tonight.

I’m always amazed at the brilliance of the blue skies the morning after a storm of great fury, be it a blizzard or a hurricane. Your average, run-of-the-mill snowstorm or rain event can come and go and the next day the skies may retain their cranky gray visage. But not following a storm of great consequence.

Just like a mother who has bitten her tongue one too many times, Mother Nature occasionally unleashes the accumulation of atmospheric energy and clears the decks. She withholds nothing. She lets us have it. And then, forgiving and forward-looking, she lets it all go and moves on. The sparkling clarity left behind is her gift to us.

A reminder that no matter how dark and furious things can get, the sun does come out again. The skies do clear. The air once again becomes breathable and invigorating.

Tohickon Creek at Point Pleasant – Photo: L. Weikel

Around Us

I only ventured out a few miles from our home today. So many roads were – and remain – closed. I’ve yet to get a glimpse of the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River). But I did manage to sneak a peak at where my beloved Tohickon Creek flows into the Delaware in Point Pleasant.

It looks like the power of the Tohickon pulled some boards off the aqueduct that crosses over it just before the creek merges with the river. Just standing on the bridge to take the photo, I could feel the power of the churning waters below me.

As can be seen below, water simply cascading down the hill without a discernible path to follow pounded the roadway so relentlessly that it caused it to buckle.

River Road, Point Pleasant, PA – Photo: L. Weikel

Carrying On

It’s shocking to consider that we were only hit with the ‘remnants’ of Hurricane Ida. My mind reels at the plight of those who were scathed by nature’s fury not only here – in devastating loss of life and home – but even more so in Louisiana, Mississippi, and elsewhere down south. I cannot imagine enduring temperatures where the heat index is reaching 107 during the day and yet there remains no running water, no electricity (and therefore no air conditioning), no lights at night, and little hope of anything being restored anytime soon.

How does one carry on in that situation? Blue skies surely can’t be enough. Or maybe they can be. When we’ve lost everything, maybe blue skies – and the intangible hope they reflexively bring us – are precisely what our souls require.

Tangle of wildflowers & white butterflies – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-85)