connections

Feeling Very Loved – Day 1047

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Expressions of Love & Caring – Photo: L.Weikel

Feeling Very Loved

Man oh man, it’s been a week. Wait. What? It’s not over yet, you say? Well, I guess that’s technically true (and not a little scary). All I can say at this moment, though, is that I’m feeling very loved – and I have all of you to thank for that.

When I wrote my post last Sunday night, I was worried. I’d intended to write another anthropomorphized vegetable tale, but obviously that silliness was pre-empted. I may or may not regain the light-hearted silliness required to write about the carrot that arrived from the CSA last weekend.

As most of you know, it doesn’t matter what I may have tucked in the back of my mind as a possible topic on any given evening. Ultimately, I always opt to share my state-of-being in the moment. And I could feel in my bones that, even though he just seemed ‘punk’ throughout the day, Spartacus’s malaise was rapidly degrading into something far more concerning.

Community of Compassion

I want to tell all of you how much your words and gestures of love and compassion have meant to me this week. The first few days of the week were a blur of action and driving and shock. The next few felt like a slow-motion pileup of emotions – as well as that weird unable-to-catch-your-breath feeling of having the wind knocked out of you. That’s the feeling that accompanies sudden, irretrievable loss. It’s like a WOMP right to the solar plexus.

My wish is that none of you ever have to feel it. But of course, I know many of you already have. Whether you have or you haven’t experienced that feeling, reading about it is a gift. Not a gift to you necessarily. But definitely a gift to the writer. It’s a gift that you gut through it long enough to share in the emotions as hard as they may be to read, and then – even more amazingly – take the time to write a comment in response.

Can I tell you how much it meant to me to pull up FB on my phone and just see how many people had reacted? And then the shock of seeing the number of comments? I felt arms around me and a solidarity of shared compassion just in looking at those numbers.

To be honest, I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to read your sweet and loving comments until yesterday. It was a comfort simply to know you cared enough to write to me. I needed to wait a full day to take the time to scroll through them and then truly take in your love.

We Are Kindred Spirits

The level of compassion and understanding with which so very many of you responded was enlightening. The heartfelt responses I received from you were not a reflection of the quality of my writing. No. They were a reflection of the love that each and every one of you has experienced first-hand. Experienced – and then been forced to release into the ethers. Because that’s the nature of our lives.

The array of responses revealed something else, too: You’re all a bunch of lovers. We love and we let go.

The fact that I’m lucky enough to have so many people (from all over the world, I might add) in my life, sharing this journey, holding each other’s hands when any one of us is hurting, is a treasure. It’s not easy to live our lives with awareness. It’s hard to choose to feel – and not run from the hard stuff.

Thank you for being the kind softies you all revealed yourselves to be. I love being part of our community of compassion. I dare say it’s because we have each other that we pick ourselves up every day and refuse to give in to the darkness that threatens all of us every once in a while.

(T-64)

Skulk, Leash, or Earth – Day 920

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Love this little one – Photo: L. Weikel

Skulk, Leash, or Earth

I feel like the title of this post would make a great title of a book. Skulk, leash, or earth. It’s difficult to conjure any kind of visual representation of what this possibly could mean. At least, it is for me.

At best, I could imagine – perhaps – Spartacus needing to be placed on a leash if I caught him skulking around somewhere on the earth. You know – skulking where he shouldn’t be skulking. If you ask me, skulking always engenders suspicion, so a leash could definitely be warranted.

At worst, I feel like these three words have absolutely no cohesion to them at all. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were haphazardly harvested by opening three disparate books at random and plucking the first word that jumped off the page.

Yes, actually, that feels like the most likely scenario of how skulk, leash, and earth came to be hanging out together.

I look at these three words and think, “Nope. I’ve got nothing.”

And Yet…

All three have a common denominator, a shared connection that links them all together. What is that connection? FOX. And no, not the television network, either. Each of those words is how one might refer to a group of foxes.

Then as I was sitting here contemplating what I was going to write tonight, a fox yipped a loud, sharp howl just outside our front door. One single yip – so who knows whether there’s a skulk out there. But it did remind me of the tab I’ve had open in my browser for days. The tab with the link to the Wikipedia entry that references these three words.

I’ve wanted to write for weeks about the leash of foxes that live across the road from us. Now is my opportunity. If only they stayed as cute and fuzzy as this little one.

As I wrap up tonight’s post, I have to share a rabbit hole I unexpectedly fell into as I attempted to close with one last reference to an earth of foxes. A light bulb went off somewhere in the recesses of my brain and I wondered if there could possibly be any connection between a group of foxes being called an earth and Eartha Kitt’s name, given that a baby fox is often called a kit. Was there some sly, foxy connection here?

Hahahaha – just as I wrote that, another fox has started yipping.

Close up – Photo: L. Weikel

The Eartha Connection

No, there’s no actual connection between Eartha Kitt and foxes – other than perhaps her foxy demeanor. BUT – interestingly enough, just in doing a quick search, I discovered that her daughter, Kitt, just published a memoir, Eartha and Kitt: A Daughter’s Love Story in Black and White* that was released this month.

I love the genre of memoir. And considering the state of racial awareness (or collective realization of the lack thereof) in our country at the moment, I have to wonder if my musings were breadcrumbs leading me to discover this book for a reason.

It was certainly a circuitous route. Then again, why did I leave that tab open all this time, with the vague intention of writing this post?

*affiliate link

(T-191)

Cleo Sharplin – Day Sixty Nine

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Cleo’s Heart Photo by L. Weikel

Cleo Sharplin

One amazing result of writing my 1111 Devotion was the email I received yesterday from a friend of Cleo and Barry Sharplin. You may recall that I wrote about the Sharplins a few days before Christmas, encouraging a visit to Alchemy, their wonderfully unique clothing shop in Frenchtown, NJ.

Sadly, I must report that Cleo’s suffering ended this past Tuesday, January 15, 2019.

A Most Surprising Messenger

Last evening I received an email from the mother of an art student of Barry’s. She had apparently stumbled upon my blog and read my post from Day 39. In an act of uncommon kindness, she reached out to let me know of Cleo’s passing. Marlene’s words were so loving as she described moments she’d sat chatting with Cleo, listening to stories of Cleo’s adventures.

I am in awe that this blog put us in touch with each other. What a totally unexpected gift I received for the simple act of remaining disciplined to my commitment in honor of my Karl Daniel.

I paid a visit to Alchemy today to spend a few minutes with Barry and to let him know how sorry I am for the loss of his Cleo, his best friend. I know my words, however well-intentioned, were of hollow comfort. No words can set his upended world right.

A Heart to Hold

Before I went into the shop, I sat outside in my car, gray clouds gathering overhead and snow just starting to spit from those clouds ever so slightly. I’d wanted to bring something to Barry, some token to honor my memory of Cleo and acknowledge the rending of his life as he’d known it. Having an intimacy with stones by virtue of what I ‘do’ in my life, my best idea was, of course, the comfort of a gift from Mother Earth.

I’d found a heart of rhodonite that reminded me of Cleo, and as I sat outside Alchemy, I blew my intentions of love, comfort, and peace for Barry into that stone. On some level, I wanted to give him something tangible to hold onto as he winds his way on a new path that he did not expect to be traveling so suddenly.

As I was sitting there, whispering my final intentions into the stone, I watched him come out of the store. Taking a seat wearily on the wooden bench just outside the shop’s entrance, he lit up a cigarette and took a deep, long drag. As he sat there, I watched as he took in the empty front windows and the sign announcing “60% off.” I could only imagine his thoughts. How his entire life had upended in sixty days. Their store, so vibrant and lively for these many years, suddenly sapped of its lifeblood, a virtual shell.

It’s stunning how everything can change in an instant.

The Connections We Make

In that moment, I got out of my car, walked over, and sat next to him on the bench. Looking up, he recognized me, at least on some level, and moved over just a scootch. All I had to do was look in his eyes. I asked if I could give him a hug. (That seems to have been the only consistent offering I could make these past weeks, as I witnessed this unfold from afar.)

I explained how I’d received the email from his student’s mom, and how grateful I was that she’d reached out to let me know. I’d felt really sad earlier in the week, and had blamed it on circumstances in my own life. I didn’t tell him that, of course; but I did reveal how in those moments of self-pity, a clear and unmistakable sense of Barry’s loss (impending, I’d assumed) had intervened. Yes, Cleo and Barry had been front and center in my mind and weighing on my heart.

Barry, listening and staring straight ahead at the shell Alchemy has become, took a long drag on his cigarette. Turning his ruddy face toward me, he smiled and looked me directly in the eyes. “You know,” he said, “she left at 9:11.”

Wow. No. I did not know that.

I don’t know if that felt significant to him because of the connection to ‘the’ infamous 9/11, or if on some level, he knew about my connection to 11s, but there it was. That doorway created by the double ones. A portal. And now another shared connection to a loved one taking their leave from this world into the next.

___________________________________

Alchemy Clothing – 17 Bridge Street – Frenchtown, NJ – 08825

Barry will be keeping Alchemy open until next Sunday, January 27th. Sadly (but good for you), I was surprised by the number of great pieces still available as of today.

So if you want to help both yourself and the Sharplins out – pay a visit. The discount is steep. And best of all, you get one last chance to have some Cleo eclecticism in your closet. Even if you didn’t know her, trust me. She had an eye for beauty, color, and style that will be sorely missed.

(T-1042)