Devotion

Technology – ND #21

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Photo: Macrumors.com

Technology

Technology. Ugh. Talk about having a love/hate relationship with something. Ever since Karl and I bought one of the first Macintoshes for Christmas back in 1984 (at a department store called Hess’s!), I’ve been fascinated by the possibilities.

I’ll always remember the anticipation we felt taking it out of its box and setting it up in our first apartment here in Pennsylvania. We moved back to Pennsylvania after living in New York for three years while I attended law school. Karl was a toddler and Karl and I felt like we were making a visionary investment in his future by purchasing that machine.

Only just graduating from law school a year earlier, I had typed every paper I submitted both in undergrad and law school on an electric typewriter. I kept handwritten track of all our finances in a 10” x 13” grid-lined notebook. So the prospect of inputting and organizing all our finances on the computer boggled my mind. The concept of writing letters, papers, memoranda, briefs – heck, writing anything – and being able to edit and delete without Wite-Out® or Liquid Paper®(which were still pretty revolutionary in their own right) seemed like science fiction. But here it was: a grayish plastic cube sitting on a desk in our living room.

We watched the now legendary Apple commercial “1984” and felt like we were part of a movement that would break the future wide open. I literally fantasized over all the things I thought we’d be able to do with that Macintosh.

Afraid to Break It

I have to laugh at my dreams now. To say that I was disappointed in that first Macintosh is an understatement. Quicken®didn’t become a part of my reality for probably another decade. And by that time we’d moved to PCs because we could get a wider selection of better games for the kids and word processing programs for me (as well as the aforementioned Quicken®).

Through it all, though, I was so afraid I’d ‘break’ it. Or heaven forbid, I’d touch a key or engage in a function that would delete everything. It didn’t take long for our sons to zoom past us at light speed in their comfort level with this ever-evolving technology.

Of course, that was the whole point of why we’d invested in that very first Macintosh. And why we found ourselves upgrading to the latest and greatest amazingness every year or two. The technology changed so quickly, and the software became so sophisticated, we simply had to get machines with more power and memory if we were going to successfully greet the future.

One Foot In, One Foot Out

All of this is forefront in my mind because I gave a presentation today in the I AM Symposium and used a new desktop computer. I thought I’d figured out ahead of time how to ‘go live’ on Facebook, which was ironic, since I’ve become fairly comfortable with Zoom. How different could they be, I thought? Ha. (Never challenge worse. Where have I heard that before?) When a notice suddenly popped up moments before I was to start indicating that my ‘frames per second’ were too slow, I wanted to run away.

Luckily, Sage was close by and he messed around with it. (Truth be told, I don’t think he did anything to it that I hadn’t tried – but it was infinitely reassuring that he was there as my tech support.) The ‘show went on,’ and I eventually regained my footing. But it was a tough start.

And so it is, I have a beauty of a new computer – the first desktop we’ve had in the house in probably a decade. I’m excited by the power and speed it has – and the possibilities, again, feel limitless. It also feels like another ‘coming full circle.’ I remember seeing Karl (son) sitting at our last desktop, right where this one is situated, the last time he was home. That’s when he put a ton of his favorite songs on my iPod (which are now on my iPhone) – and through which he still communicates with me today.

Technology. I love it and hate it at the same time.

(T+21)

Unconditional Love – Day 914

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“I love you, Mommy” – Photo: L. Weikel

Unconditional Love

It’s really easy to slip into the habit of taking people, things, and circumstances in our lives for granted. In my experience, it seems that those we’re most likely to take for granted are the ones who love us unconditionally. And when we speak of unconditional love, I wonder just how many of us live it and feel it – either extending it to others or having it extended toward us. Whether giving it or receiving it, I suspect that, for most of us, love with no strings attached is as precious as hen’s teeth.

I’m not waxing on about unconditional love based on some romantic notion. And I guarantee I’m not raising it in commentary on the current escalation of deeply troubling geopolitical circumstances.

No, I’m feeling pretty basic and simplistic this evening. As I mentioned in last night’s post, I’m trying to keep things light. I’m not looking much past my very own nose for subject matter at the moment. It feels like our lives are booby trapped with potentially incendiary topics at every turn.

Where does a person turn for respite in such circumstances?

Tigger – with love in his eyes – Photo: L. Weikel

Creatures

If we’re lucky and seeking a place of solace or a taste of that elusive sense that we’re loved without a single ounce of hesitancy, we need only look into the eyes of our pets. And yes, I’m using the generic word ‘pets’ as opposed to either dog or cat because, quite honestly, I’ve seen such extraordinary love in both species. Cats may be aloof, but they know how to love (even if we might suspect otherwise).

Even Cletus – Photo: L. Weikel

And dogs?

All I can say is, the eyes have it.

I dare anyone to look into that face and tell me Spartacus doesn’t love me unconditionally. And yes, I’ve included photos of our cats as well, photos that capture a connection that feels even greater than a simple ‘heart’ (or, cynically, ‘tummy’) connection: a soul connection. To my mind, that is unconditional love.

I truly believe that our familiars have the capacity to love us unconditionally. And when they do, they model for us the highest expression of loving another. It’s love with no strings. I joke that Spartacus only loves me for the treats I dispense, but in my heart, I know that’s not true. He loves me to my core. He loves me for my core.

It makes me wonder sometimes. How do people survive this often terribly harsh life without sharing their lives with these beings? I swear, sometimes the belief I see in their eyes – the forgiveness, the devotion –  remind me of how I want to look at other people. And maybe even myself sometimes.

Why do so many of us find that so hard?

I love you – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-197)

Eve of Our Future – Day 722

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Rainbow Selfie – with Kamala at our backs – Photo: L. Weikel

Eve of Our Future

Well, we’re finally here. The time to stand up and be counted, to let ourselves and the world know where we’re headed, has arrived. We’re here. We’ve arrived at the eve of our future.

What will that future look like? I don’t need to tell you. We all know the consequences – some of them immediate – of the choices we’ll be making tomorrow.

We either repudiate what’s been done in our name over the past four years (regardless of how well our portfolios or 401(k)s may have done – that is, if we’re lucky enough to have either) or we don’t. We either show the world 2016 was an aberration, a ‘black swan event,’ or we don’t. We either take a stand against some of the most barbaric, egregious policies and behaviors of any government, much less our own – or we don’t. We either commit to being a global partner and leader in addressing climate change, or we make it worse.

I could go on.

Justice, Integrity, Truth, and Respect

These are the qualities on the ballot tomorrow. And while we yearn to have these values restored within the White House, I sense there’s an even deeper craving for these values to be declared far and wide – and modeled everywhere – as qualities inherent in the way Americans treat each other.

What do we have to lose if we don’t vote, or if vote to retain the current president? E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G. He has declared his intentions. Are we listening? There are precious few who will benefit, while vast swaths of our country fall into abject misery.

Love, Compassion, and the Power of Diversity

I believe in us. I believe in our dignity and devotion to higher ideals than the value of the stock market or the country of our origin. I believe that deep down, all of us yearn to be treated with love and compassion. I believe in the wisdom of our forebears who succinctly espoused the greatest strength of our nation: e pluribus unum. “Out of many, one.”

Kamala Harris – Photo: L. Weikel

Rare Treat

As you’ve adroitly surmised from the accompanying photos, Karl and I were invited to an event today featuring vice presidential candidate Kamala Harris. Taking in the entire milieu as we waited for Representative Wild, Senator Casey, and others to arrive and speak, I will admit to feeling an overflow of emotion. Not wild abandon. Not screaming passion.; but a wellspring of hope and yearning for aspirational governance.

Speaker after speaker, from activists to representatives, spoke with conviction, yes. Each spoke with passion, a sense of commitment to change, and a demand for inclusion and diversity. But there was one thing not a single one of them brought to the table: cynicism.

Kamala Harris – 2 November 2020 – Photo: L. Weikel

Kamala Harris

I’ve paid attention to our politics. I knew from her resume and the interviews and debates I watched that Kamala Harris is a strong candidate. But there’s something extra you feel when you experience candidates up close and personal. It’s hard to define, but you feel their energy, perhaps a bit more of their essence.

And I couldn’t help but feel we were getting a chance to truly view the Eve of our future.

It’s time.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-389)

New Moon in Aries – Day 498

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Signs of Spring – Photo: L. Weikel

New Moon in Aries

In just a couple of hours the moon will be dark, obscured from our sight because it won’t be reflecting any of the light of the sun. Technically, we’ll be experiencing a new moon in Aries.

As I’ve mentioned in other posts, the new moon is a particularly fertile time to plant the seeds of ideas, intentions, or commitments we want to set into motion in our lives. One way of looking at it is to think of the dark moon as representing rich, dark, fertile soil that’s a perfect medium for nurturing life and growth. So it is a perfect time to plant those aspirations we hold for the coming days, weeks, and quite possibly beyond.

It’s interesting to read how interpretations of the particular alignment of the planets and moon reflect the challenges we’re being called to face in light of the Covid-19 pandemic. (Because this is a new moon, the sun and moon are ‘conjunct,’ or sitting at the same degree in the same sign. Thus, as you probably realize, the sun is also in Aries, having entered that sign at the equinox, which took place on March 19th this year.) Chani gives a thought-provoking description of the aspects influencing this particular new moon, and how these influences speak directly to our current experiences here.

Introspection and Hard Questions

As I’ve mentioned a number of times lately, this self-isolation we’re being urged to do (or in more and more cases, ordered to engage in via so-called ‘stay-at-home’ orders) is an unprecedented opportunity to take a deep dive into figuring out who we are and what we value at our core. It’s a chance for us to reflect on the choices we’ve made in our lives. And it quite possibly is a time in which we contemplate making new choices.

It occurs to me as I write this that we are seeing the stark truth of this reflection on what we truly value play out right in front of us on the national stage. Will we choose to continue to self-isolate if we think we may have been exposed to the virus (or simply to avoid the possibility of exposure or being exposed)? Will we choose to withdraw from social interaction and physical contact in order to protect each other and ourselves? Or will we decide that ‘getting back to work’ is more important than the very real possibility of saving lives?

As many are pointing out, a ‘dead’ economy can be revived. A dead person cannot.

Choosing Our Values

In signaling today that we may be urged to ‘return to work’ next week if we have no symptoms (the ostensible end of the 15 days of social distancing begrudgingly advocated by the federal government), we are being given a clear indication on the macro level of just what is of most value to our so-called ‘leaders.’ Indeed, I saw a clip just this evening of the Lt. Governor of Texas saying that grandparents would be happy to give their lives to provide a healthy economy to their grandchildren.

That’s an utterly absurd and appalling ‘choice’ for our government to be suggesting we make. And it’s not even true. (Surprise.) Choosing to knowingly risk even greater spread of this virus would only serve to kill more people and crash our economy even further. It would be the height of cratered and craven values.

But Here We Are

What seeds do you want to plant today? Where do your deepest values reside? What is most precious to you and how do you intend to express your devotion to it/them?

This is where we find ourselves. Our current way of living is unsustainable – on so many levels.

But we can do this. We can make the choices that will enable love, caring, and compassion to flourish. If that’s what really matters to each of us.

Crocus – Photo: L. Weikel

 

(T-613)

Poof – Day 181

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Tree Owl – Photo: L. Weikel

Poof   

So, OK.

You guys, my loyal peeps who’ve been sticking with me through 181 days now (even if you did miss a couple few), know that I’ve wondered what would happen if I found myself in a space where I might be compromised in my ability to honor my 1111 Devotion commitment.

Well, this moment is both a challenge and an affirmation.

The night tonight is exquisitely conducive to cocooning. To sleeping. To dreaming. I’m sitting here in my room, the expansive windows thrown wide open despite the rain cascading from the sky. (I checked: No worries, nothing is coming in through the screens.)

It’s almost as if the cavalcade of sounds, textures, voices and images that we just experienced at the hands of the wizardly alchemist Peter May and his sound dakini, Marina, actually rippled out into and through the rainforest, following us as we wound our way to our room.

Indeed, perhaps our journey to the ululating murmerings of the didgeridoo was a mere appetizer to the evening’s main course.

The one that followed us home.

I can only hope.

My Devotion – My Heart

In the meantime, though, in the race to return to my room so I could write these words, I realized just how close to my heart I hold this devotion. It’s as if this time at the close of every day is time actually spent with my eldest son. Even if I don’t write about him (which in fact I rarely do), even if I write about the most mundane of topics. Even if I write a sentence and call it an evening. No detail about any post that I may write has any bearing whatsoever on the heart of the act itself.

There is purpose behind this Act of Power.

I write because I love.

And the love I feel is eternal, expansive, and holds the utmost healing power.

I hope each and every one of you, whether reading this or not, in some way feels the essence of what I felt (and feel) tonight. Whether it was a wisp of a sense, a warm sense, a rustle of your hair. I dropped by. I sent you love. I blew you a kiss. I thought about you.

And because you happen to be reading this at this very moment, know that that thought, that love, is coming to you yet again.

That was my dream earlier. May it continue to manifest.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-930)

When We Become Saturated – Day 112

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When We Become Saturated

Earlier today, I was sitting by my Sacred Tohickon, trying to ‘make effective use of my time.’ I’d brought my laptop with me, forgetting that I don’t have access to the internet when I’m at the creek.

How could I forget such an obvious and essential bit of information?

I think sometimes we forget things when we become saturated. At least I do. Saturated with thoughts, feelings, worries, to-do lists; internal chatter that runs the gamut from small anxieties to existential concerns.

And I have to wonder what internal trigger finally needs to get reached that pulls the emergency cord.

Perhaps it isn’t an internal trigger. Maybe it’s external. External – but not visible. Or at least not self-originating. And by that, I mean maybe we have guides or guardians who, when they see us approaching meltdown, pull the emergency cord on our behalf.

I do know that I chose Elk reversed today. So on some level, somebody (perhaps my own soul) was yanking on the cord that triggers the emergency brake. Indeed, I chose Elk reversed with Blue Heron underneath: Self Reflection.

The key word for Elk is “Stamina.” Thus, while Elk reversed can be interpreted a couple of different ways, it usually means (again, for me anyway) I’ve been burning the candle at both ends and I need to stop. I need to stop before circumstances knock me down.

Specifically, the words that jumped out at me from the Medicine Cards® book are:

“If Elk has appeared in the reverse position, you may be stretching the rubber band to the breaking point. Be careful of undue stress levels, or you might just create an illness to force you to take a break.

(…)

In all cases, Elk is telling you to look at how you choose to create your present pathway, and how you intend to perpetuate it to reach your goal. Your best weapon is the same as Elk’s: to stop when you need to, to persist when you need to, and to allow room for change and exchange of energies.”

And as I said above, underneath my Elk reversed was Blue Heron, whose keyword is “Self-Reflection.”

The very first line of Blue Heron is as follows:

“Heron medicine is the power of knowing the self by discovering its gifts and facing its challenges.”

Facing My Challenges

I readily admit, one of my greatest challenges is learning how to take true quality time for myself. And I think that’s because it’s rarely ‘convenient’ to do so. And by convenient, I don’t necessarily mean ‘easy.’ But I do mean ‘it won’t make me feel like I’m selfishly taking time away from someone who does not have the luxury of choosing what they’re dealing with.’

For all my laughable travails with cars that flash the RT of D, or whose back ends come off in my hands, I feel profoundly grateful for the abundance of love, great health, and opportunity that I enjoy in my life.

And yet…I know I need to stop. I need to take a breather. I need to gather up my energy, consolidate it, and decide where I want to focus it next.

So – here’s the deal. For all that I just wrote above, I’m being challenged once again (quite literally) in this very moment:

The Gifts – and Challenges – of Sticky Wet Snow

I was going to write about how the gorgeous wet snow, which is piling up on all the branches in exquisite outlines of every crook and twig, is reinforcing within m the essential nature of stopping and consolidating myself and my energy. And I was going to include two beautiful photos I just took as I was standing on my porch.

But no. The electricity just went out. I can feel the cold seeping into the house – and this room in particular – already. And I am thwarted from uploading my photos as well as publishing this post in a timely fashion.

So I will take this time to honor my self and my allies. It’s time to step back from the grind and give myself permission to be tired. And as soon as I am able, I will reconnect with you, my precious readers, my fellow devotional travelers.

Wishing you peace – and the gift of self-reflection and understanding.

Night Snowfall -Photo: L.Weikel

(T- 999) P.S.: It’s been almost 13 hours now (1:03 p.m.) and I’m at a Starbucks. We still have no electricity at home. Hoping to have it restored by 8:00 p.m.

Entrances and Exits – Day 111

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Entrances and Exits                           

I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

It’s been a long day. And I just capped it off by watching the first two episodes of True Detective. I wanted to just lose myself in a story.

I don’t know why, but it’s left me unsettled.

Entering the Land of Three Digits

Am I really on my 111th blog post? And is this the last day I have 1000 or more posts yet to write in my 1111 Devotion?

It feels surreal to think that I’ve written this many posts, day in and day out. I remember when it was a huge deal for me to have written seven in a row! And then later, I marveled at having written a whole month’s worth.

My whole attitude toward sharing my thoughts with you – the varied and partially unknown-to-me ‘you’ who are supporting this commitment by reading my words – has shifted a lot in the past three months. I’m still trying to figure out my rhythm. I’m still learning to trust my muse, my connection to some font of inspiration that suggests the subject of each night’s ponderings.

We’re All Exercising Forms of Devotion – to Each Other

I realize some nights I do better than others. And I’m grateful for your devotion to me. And to Karl.

Funny thing? I had a very uncommon Saturday session today. (Another reason I think I’m feeling a little hazy. I’m not sure what day it is.) But on this Day 111 of my 1111 Devotion, Karl was powerfully present. He showed up and his presence was palpable. Not only that, he was a huge support and healing presence.

I didn’t think of it at the time, but his timing was pretty darn cool.

He always did know how to make a dramatic entrance.

And exit.

(T-1000)

Full Moon Bath – Day Ninety Nine

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Some mesas keeping warm by a fire – Photo: L.Weikel

Full Moon Bath                

Nope. Not for me. It’s frigid outside. (And contrary to what a certain someone might have you believe, I’m not  a Fridgit.)

I’m sitting here in my living room, a fire making it so toasty and cozy that it’s hard to keep my eyes open. Because the sole thermostat for our entire home is in this room, the rest of the house takes on a noticeable chill when we have a fire going in the winter months. But it makes for great sleeping.

As I sit here on the couch, I can see the brilliance of the imperceptibly not-quite-full moon shining in the front window of the dining room/library. Without being able to see the moon itself from the angle where I’m sitting, I can nevertheless see her glow bouncing off the limbs of the trees in the neighbors’ front yard across the street.

It’s the glow that’s calling to me.

Or perhaps not.

Call of the Khuyas

I thought it was the glow calling to me, but I actually think it is my khuyas. Khuyas (pronounced koo-yahs) are stones contained in my mesa, my sacred bundle. Khuyas are the integral cast of characters in my mesa who work with people to effect healing, in whatever form they may require.

I would say khuyas start out as simple stones or crystals, just regular Joe Schmoes who’ve been hanging around in and on the earth for millennia. But I don’t feel that’s true. Sure, perhaps some of the stones or crystals that end up in mesas are newbies, meaning this is their first gig as a team member in a healing mesa. But I truly believe most of these beings maneuvered their way into being discovered by, or coming into the hands of, a person who is called to learn these ancient ways because it is their service.

These stones know what they’re doing. They carry knowledge and experience accumulated over millennia; vast stores of hidden knowledge and wisdom. And they are remarkably powerful.

Regardless of whether they have been carried in mesas of generations of healers or this is their first assignment working with the human realm, these stones have a unique and treasured relationship with their people. (And by ‘their people,’ I mean those who bundle them in sacred cloth and work with them on behalf of their own healing and, in some cases, the healing of others).

From as early in my life as I can remember, I’ve delighted in noticing and picking up stones that have caught my attention. (Same with feathers and other treasures I’ve discovered in nature.) But stones! I think I have stones from every place I’ve ever visited. (And believe me – when I was backpacking around Europe as an 18 year old, this meant I had to exercise immense discernment – and restraint.)

Who Initiates Whom?

But none of those or any other stones I collected over the years could technically be called a khuya. Not until it worked with me on a soul level, one-on-one, and developed a personal relationship with me. Indeed, when I was first building my mesa, the initial set of stones I worked with ended up being initiated into the Q’ero tradition I was learning before I was. The Q’ero elders and those who had been working with and had received rites of initiation from them made a point of initiating the stones– making them khuyas – before even considering initiating me.

But as I have done this work through the years, I have wondered: Did it take an initiation by a human to shift a stone or crystal to the status of a khuya? Or do they know Who They Are and, as I mentioned earlier, present themselves to (or allow themselves to be discovered by) a person when that person is on the path to be initiated by them?

I’m perhaps heading off into the weeds a little here; possibly contemplating the origin of my sacred allies in ways that might not interest a lot of people. I can tell you, embracing the consciousness of my khuyas has brought me immense joy, which I guess is why I love just chatting with you about this stuff.

And all of this originated with my observation of the moon’s glow as I started to write this post.

Yearning for a Full Moon Bath

That’s because, as cold as it is outside (and I can hear the wind causing the chimes on my porch to clatter and clang in more of a cacophony than usual), I hear my khuyas calling me. They’re asking to be set out in the moonlight tonight. They’re nearly giddy with the thought of being exposed to the brace of freezing temperatures and the kiss of a stiff breeze, perhaps even some snow flurries. Most of all, though, they’re yearning to bask in the light of Mama Killa, Grandmother Moon, and be cleansed and revivified in the process.

Yikes. Now that I’m tuned in, I can hear them bitching at me a little bit. They’ve been doing some amazingly powerful work for quite a while and I’ve not been as devoted (there’s a word!) to them as they would like. I’ve neglected them by not allowing them the cleansing serenity of a Full Moon Bath in far too long. And yes, this is true, even if I have cooed over them, kumayed them with florida water, and expressed my gratitude every time I’ve opened my mesa.

So I am off to open Sacred Space, unfold my mesa, and set her out in the glow of tonight’s full moon. May my khuyas dance and be joyful!

(T-1013)

Salted Caramel Filled Chocolates – Day Ninety

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Salted Caramel Filled Chocolates…           

are the only thing keeping me awake at the moment.

I’ve always stayed up late. (Yeah, a night owl. Go figure.) But pretty much since I started my 1111 Devotion, I’ve been staying up even later than I used to, and on a much more consistent basis. And by later I mean for the past 90 days I’ve not gone to bed before 12:30 a.m. at the earliest and 2:15 a.m. at the latest. On average, hitting the sheets by around 1:30 a.m.

For the most part, it works out. I’ve always done my best work at night. Since my college days, the dark hours when most other people are asleep were when I accomplished the most. So this isn’t a shockingly new development. The toll taker is the consistency.

And this week has been a particularly challenging stretch. Earlier in the week, I had to get up at 4:15 a.m. to take Karl to the airport. So my Wednesday was a little ragged around the edges, if I do say so myself.

Then last night I didn’t get to bed until 2:00-ish, in spite of how tired I was, and then got back up at 5:15 to make the pilgrimage back to Newark in order to collect Karl off the red-eye.

Sleep Deprivation Can Be a Bitch

Maybe it was that I only got three hours of sleep two out of the last four days. (Yeah, that might be it.) Maybe I just don’t have the EverReady Bunny mojo I used to have? Yeah, that could be it; I don’t know. One thing I do know: I’ve been borderline zombie today.

So here I am, listening to Karl’s rhythmic breathing/pseudo-snoring as he slumbers on the couch. I close my eyes to pull words from the ethers and find myself nodding off in what feel like micro-naps. I catch myself when my head bobs and I realize I’ve lost my train of thought.

Enter Chocolove filled Salted Caramel dark chocolate. Someone must have been watching over me when I went to Whole Foods on Thursday and discovered these bars of chocolate-y pillows of delight were on sale.

Probably the only reason I’ve managed to write this much is because I indulged.

A Shift in Perspective

Believe it or not, I started this post out expressing disappointment and annoyance with myself for eating chocolate so late in the evening. But I’ve deleted that garbage because I suddenly realize how lucky I am. So what if I’m overtired and need a little “chocolove” to help me follow through on my commitment? To add fuel to my Act of Power? To sustain my dedication?

I’m lucky because my husband is asleep on the couch. My sons are warm and cozy living their lives with their loves. I’m surrounded by my two dogs and three cats (even if they crowd me into a corner of our bed). I’m healthy and my senses are eager and able to indulge in the exquisite delight of a dark chocolate morsel filled with gooey salted caramel.

I have the extraordinary and magical good fortune of working with people and Spirit in the way I do. And how rich am I to hit the ‘publish’ button every night only to wake up to see that you have cared enough to walk another day with me on this journey?

So no. I’m not going to hold on to the sadness that swept across my brow last night. And I’m not going to lament the fact that I gave myself permission to eat some chocolate tonight. That’s just such an old, bullshit way of thinking.

I’m going to be grateful for the salted caramel filled dark chocolates with sweet little hearts embossed on top. I’m going to feel the love that permeates my life.

And I’m going to send it back out into the world: to you.

(T-1021)

Remedial Instagram – Day Eighty One

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Photo by L. Weikel

Remedial Instagram

Good grief, I’m starting to wonder about myself.

I’ll come clean with all of you, since we’re all about intimacy, right? I feel intimate with you, anyway. I know there are a number of you who are keeping me company and making sure I do indeed keep my commitment to Karl’s memory. (I can’t thank you often or sincerely enough for that camaraderie, by the way. And my most heartfelt means of expressing that gratitude is to be radically honest with you. Intimate, in other words. Letting you see and hear my inner me, warts and all.)

My confession is this: I was honestly excited last night when I wrote about getting myself much further along in Instagram World than I’d ever managed before. I knew I’d successfully posted (what, a post? Do you post a post on Instagram? God, how can I do it if I don’t even know what to call it?); anyway, I knew I’d successfully put something on my IG ‘feed’ yesterday afternoon because people had reacted to it by later in the evening.

Even better, I thought, I’d figured out how to get links inside my post to actually get opened without some rigamarole that I didn’t even understand. It sounded like a good thing to do and I thought I’d figured it out. The app I was using to accomplish this task is called Link In Profile. Technically, I’m still using it, I guess, as of tonight anyway. Luckily, they give you a month’s free trial first.

It seems pretty neat. At least, yesterday afternoon, as I said, I managed to post my initial Instagram and, in it, include a link to my Devotion blog post, which explains the inception of the whole 1111 Devotion commitment I made in November. And I thought it meant that people could click on the link inside the post and go directly to the webpage it referenced, instead of people having to go to my Instagram bio to click on it.

Yeah, this is making my eyes glaze over, too.

But I think it did the job. I don’t actually know enough yet to even be able to tell.

First Opportunity to Show My Stuff: Brain Fart

Problem is? By the time I published my blog post late last night and shared it on FB in the couple or three places I usually do, I totally forgot how to actually, literally, POST on Instagram! Yeah, I’m saying I forgot how to do the single most basic function on (and the whole point of) the entire stupid platform.

So I’m sitting on my couch last night, eager to put my blog post ‘out there’ on Instagram, too – especially since I’d just written about it to all of you! – and I’m clicking on every damn icon I can see on the Instagram app on my phone. None of them take me where I want to go or let me do what I want to do. Mostly I’m just reminded that I need to complete my stupid bio.

Oh my Goddess. I wanted to scream.

And then, once I accidentally discovered the ‘entry’ screen (and I still don’t know what I tapped to get there), I couldn’t even figure out if it would somehow access the photo that I’d included in the blog and publish that as the ‘accompanying’ photo (like FB does)  – or if I had to publish a photo independently, from my phone’s photo archive, and then include the link to my blog post in the comment area.

My head was swimming by this time.

Hence the random photo of our Boston Terrier, Sheila, pretending to be Princess Leia (even though she actually bears a much more uncanny resemblance to Yoda).

Moving Forward, Figuring It Out

The bottom line, therefore, is that I’m still figuring this out. I know some of you are clearly adept at IG and others of you, while you may be trying to make me feel good (and it worked, thanks) by telling me so, admitted to being in the same boat as I am. You know who you are: the ‘I have a name on Instagram too, but haven’t used it yet’ gang.

My pledge to you: I will be your guinea owl! We can figure this out – together. And I will report back on how much fun and success I’m having as an Instagrammer.

In the meantime, here’s both a photo of a rock formation on the Siberian steppe south of Lake Baikal (above). And another photo of Sheila, her son Spartacus, and Cletus. Our Black and White Triumvirate enjoying a bit of warmth and respite in front of the hearth fire .

Because Instagram.

(T-1030)