dreams

Jupiter-Neptune Conjunction – ND #125

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Planetary lineup in the Southeast sky (above the horizon after dawn) – Sky Guide app

Jupiter-Neptune Conjunction

One of the major astrological aspects to occur in 2022 happens today (12 April 2022) at 10:42 a.m. EDT, with a Jupiter-Neptune conjunction. As you know, when planets are conjunct each other when they’re occupying the exact same place in the sky (from our perspective here on Earth).

These two planets only come together every 13 years, and of course each time they do, it’s in a different sign of the zodiac. This year, they’re both at 23 degrees 59 minutes of Pisces, and the last time Jupiter and Neptune were conjunct in Pisces was in 1856. Rather amazingly, in February of 1856 Russia lost the Crimean War to France and the Ottoman Empire. How weird that Russia is in a war over that same area 166 years later!

What’s It Mean?

In the simplest of terms, Jupiter is the planet of expansion. Wherever it goes, it tends to make things bigger or cause attributes to take on a more powerful presence. Jupiter is also the historical ruler of the sign of Pisces, which is a mutable water sign. Pisces is often known as the sign of mystics and dreamers.

So even if Jupiter were just traveling through Pisces on its own, we might expect dreams to play a bigger part in our life, both individually and on a collective (worldwide) basis. And when you consider that Jupiter is meeting up with Neptune, it’s likely that dreams (and possibly even illusions or delusions) could become much more pronounced.

It’s interesting to note that Neptune is also acutely connected to water. Once Neptune was discovered, it became the ruler of the sign of Pisces – and of course Neptune was the God of water, so this particular conjunction of planets in this specific sign calls forth a remarkably huge connection to water. And it’s good to remember that water is often associated with emotions.

Photo: L.Weikel

What To Do

While I’m giving the barest of basics with respect to what’s going on above us today, it seems important to watch how big and volatile our emotions may play out today. We also may realize, or perhaps finally decide to begin manifesting, our biggest, boldest, most audacious dreams. It’s also possible that we may realize that some of our dreams are, in fact, delusions (of grandeur, Jupiter might say). It seems like it might be tricky to navigate the waters of thinking grand thoughts for the future, while keeping them within the realm of possibility.

Since these are huge, slow moving planets, the effect of their conjunction is not as ‘flash-in-the-pan’ as, say, a Mercury transit. Mercury (or even more rapid a mover, the Moon) zip in and out of the signs and the various aspects they make with other planets. Jupiter and Neptune, meanwhile take their time, and their influence, while gradual, is often much more profound and long-lasting. And since they’re so slow moving, don’t feel you have to have all your aspirational ducks in a row as of 10:42 a.m.

Give yourself permission to feel the expansion of your greatest dreams. Ask yourself what you want to feel (and bring into your life) over the next 13 years. And if you need some inspiration, here’s something to listen to as you consider how this week may unfold for you (and us all). (Remember, we’re approaching a full moon on Friday!)

Certainly we’re beginning a new cycle of seeding the expansion of our dreams – a cycle that will take 13+ years to culminate. Remember: nourish your dreams well.

(T+125)

Thoughts and Expectations – ND #87

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Waxing Fingernail (new) Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

Thoughts and Expectations

When I walked out of the house early this evening – actually, just after we got home from our walk – I was bowled over by the profound clarity and beauty of the night sky. In particular, the new moon, having grown just enough to be a fingernail in the western sky tonight, was especially prominent. It felt like its sharp, sickle-shaped body sliced right into my heart when I allowed myself to pull over, just take in the moment, and let go of all my thoughts and expectations.

The evening sky was a gradation of color, from overripe plums (but sharper and clearer) to an otherworldly sapphire. I just walked outside again – hours later (it’s just past midnight) – and of course the moon has set. But the stars…oh my, the stars feel like they’re vying for my attention.

I find myself wanting to simply be in the energy of this night sky, this new moon. I just wish it were a little bit warmer. But inevitably, the weather does turn a little bit warmer. And what happens? The sky never quite regains the icy clarity of a winter sky.

Life is weird like that.

Intentions

As I mentioned a few days ago, this new moon that we just experienced in Pisces is packing a wallop. There are a lot of volatile aspects playing out between the planets with drama and sudden transformation playing crucial roles.

While I discussed the power behind contemplating and planting intentions on this new moon, I myself have yet to devote any alone time to really sorting out what I want to plant right now. When I took the accompanying photos of the moon tonight, I felt her. I felt her sluice me open to demand that I give myself the respect to contemplate my dreams.

This past week I accomplished a lot on behalf of other people. If pressed, I could say that completing those tasks, fulfilling those promises, were part of my new moon intentions. But now it’s time to mine my own treasure.

I refuse to believe it’s too late to plant the seeds of my dreams that may take much longer than one month to manifest. If I’m dreaming of manifestation within a longer lunar timeline, then something tells me setting the intention within just a few days of the precise conjunction between sun and moon in Pisces is still great timing.

So that’s my goal (ok, one of them) this weekend. Planting the seeds of my future for the next two and a half years. To be clear, I’m planting those dream seeds now, with Sun, Moon, and Neptune in Pisces. Neptune, the planet of dreams (among other things), is in its home sign of Pisces (it entered Pisces again in 2012 for the first time since 1862!), and will remain there until 2026. It feels important to put some thought into this. Perhaps you have already done so. If not, let’s make this weekend our dreaming-the-seeds-we-want-to-plant weekend, shall we?

Waxing new moon – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+87)

Full Circle – Day 1111

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My Wild Son – Photo: unknown

Full Circle

I’ve been looking forward to reaching this moment and yet dreading it at the same time. We all know it’s been on my mind – it’s not as if I haven’t kept a running “T minus” count at the bottom of each post. So here it is. My Act of Power is complete. And the weirdest thing of all is how truly ‘full circle’ I’ve come. It’s more than you might think.

When I wrote my first post in the Act of Power I ended up dubbing my ‘1111 Devotion,’ all I knew was that the goal was set. I didn’t project into the future. In fact, I remember dividing 1111 by 365 just to see roughly how long my commitment would play out. And I distinctly remember wondering what day the project would end but making the conscious decision not to figure it out ‘with specificity.’ I didn’t want to consciously know the end date. In some way, I think I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. Who knew what might happen between then and now? In spite of my very best intentions, circumstances might have interrupted my efforts – so why put a date on it.

Over the past few months I began to get a sense of what the end date would be. (Yeah, I know. I’m weird.) And the fact that this effort on behalf of honoring Karl would end tonight seemed, oh, I don’t know. Too perfect.

Last Night

And so it was only last night that I finally permitted myself to pull out my journal from the time when Karl died and check some of the dates that were dancing around in my head. What I discovered may have contributed to my difficulty writing last night’s post. No. They absolutely did. My mind was going both a million miles a minute and simultaneously whirring, sort of stuck in neutral, in another time and place.

I was both rejoicing and thanking myself for keeping such detailed notes of thoughts, feelings, experiences, and messages – and also feeling a profound regret for not having kept even better records. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that I was berating myself. It was more a feeling like when you’re watching a great movie or reading a book that’s totally engrossing and yet…you want more.

On some level, I knew I’d feel this way even as I was walking through our shock and grief. That’s why I did make an effort a couple of times to write out in copious detail some of the more amazing experiences we had. But there were many, many more mundane connections and contacts made between Karl and us in the days and weeks following his drowning. One thing that apparently happened frequently – so frequently that I clearly started taking it for granted – was a classic sign of the presence of spirit: a sudden and often fleeting feeling of a cold draft or pocket of air.

Funny. I totally forgot that that happened a lot in the two weeks or so immediately following his death. And yet even other people experienced it. Even people who called me to say they felt his presence in that moment and had a word or a message to convey.

Karl holding Spartacus (approx 4 weeks old) – Photo: L. Weikel

Tip of the Iceberg

And all of this is just a taste of what I re-discovered when I went back and started reading my entries from that time. As I said above, it sent me into a reverie that, honestly, I feel I’m still in.

Indeed, a part of me wanted to try to write this final post in my 1111 Devotion ahead of time. What?!? And break with tradition? I’m pretty sure you all know I’ve written each and every post spontaneously, every night, often jettisoning an idea that had been lurking at the edge of my mind in favor of a thought, inspiration, or outrage that was simply too compelling to quell.

So no. I couldn’t write this ahead of time. And now we’re sort of stuck with this polyglot of thoughts.

YCMTSU

But of course, I must conclude with the final YCMTSU (You Can’t Make This Stuff* Up) of this 1111 Devotion. Today is November 26th 2021. Our Gathering in honor of Karl was held – you guessed it – on the Saturday following Thanksgiving in 2011: November 26th. This post, because of the way I stay up late writing and have it set up so that the email version gets batch posted at 1:00 a.m., will actually be posted on Saturday.

So yeah. Through absolutely ZERO planning or intention on my part, this 3+ year endeavor, based solely on writing 1111 consecutive posts (in tribute to his death on 11/11/11 – at or about 11:11 p.m. Pacific Time) is ENDING on 11/26 (my Friday night), but technically Saturday – the literal day on which his Gathering took place ten years ago.**

There’s More

Reading my journal entries has reminded me of some experiences that I’m still digesting, in that I honestly believe they mean more to me now than they did when they occurred. It’s almost as if they’re messages that I wrote down then but were meant for me to read and recall now.

This is something that happens a lot with dreams and shamanic journeys. That’s because time is an illusion, and sometimes we receive messages or have dreams that we know or feel are profound, but don’t really make sense in the ‘now.’ It’s only when we go back and read them weeks, months, and sometimes even years (or decades) later do they click into place.

Ah yes. Good stuff.

But in the meantime? I thank you all for sharing this epic journey with me. Knowing at least one other person (besides Karl – he has to live with me, so he was kind of obligated to at least fake it) was reading my words meant the world to me. Instead? I was blessed with so many of you.

Thank you.

Karl and I opening Sacred Space at Karl’s Gathering 10 years ago today – Photo: Ellen Naughton

*you know what I really say
**As usual whenever I mention 1111 Devotion, I added the link to the very first entry I wrote (the ‘Devotion’ post), above. For the first time in a very long time (ever?), I re-read it just now in its entirety and I see that – apparently – I DID calculate that this would end on November 26th. What I realize is that it obviously didn’t even CLICK that this would be the exact 10 year anniversary of his Gathering; and as a corollary to that, I don’t think I was counting eggs, much less any chickens, at that point. I can confidently say I never assumed I’d reach this goal without missing a day. I still can’t believe it.

(T-0)

A First Time For Everything – Day 756

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First Page of Pandemic Journal #1 – Photo: L. Weikel

We’re all familiar with the saying: “There’s a first time for everything.” Little did I know at the beginning of this momentous year of 2020 that the expression would apply to a devastating experience with one of my journals.

As I mentioned in my post last night, I reached the natural conclusion of my then current spiral notebook journal at the beginning of April this year. Filled that baby up. Of course, that prompted me to begin a new one, the first entry of which was on April 7, 2020. On the very first page, I dubbed it my Pandemic Journal, because in spite of all the reassurances from on high that it would “all go away like a miracle” one day, my instincts (and ability to read well-researched, science-based articles) told me otherwise. The prospects felt ominous.

A Long History

I’ve been keeping a journal for at least 45 years. Wow. Seeing that in writing really drives it home. I know it to be a pretty accurate estimate because when I became an exchange student to Sweden my senior of high school, I’d already been keeping track of my thoughts, feelings, and experiences for at least two years. And once I arrived in Sweden, my journal was my refuge. In fact, as I became fluent in Swedish through that year, I even started writing my journal in Swedish to prove to myself that I could do it.

My habit of documenting my life’s experiences continued unabated (and perhaps became even more ingrained due to the daily parade of new countries and adventures) as I backpacked around Europe with a Swedish chum a month before returning home and starting college.

I’ll admit that there were times when I would go days, then weeks – and even, especially in college, months – without writing. I’d always regret the lapse when I picked up a pen again. In college, I used a Day Planner my father gave me for Christmas each year. It didn’t have a lot of room to write in each day, which in some ways was probably perfect. I could at least make time to jot down whatever was most significant about a particular day.

Throughout It All

Thus for the past 45 years or so, I’ve kept journals. Throughout all my travels, all my experiences, journeying from Sweden to New Mexico, Buffalo to Peru, Seattle to Siberia, I never – not once – lost or mangled a journal.

Not until 2020.

Specifically, on Thursday, July 30, 2020, I dutifully recorded a variety of observations, from the very personal to the fact that the president was starting to float the idea of postponing the election. I remarked just how oppressively hot it was that day and how disheartened I was becoming over the trajectory of our country.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that I left my journal, along with a Medicine Card book, buried amongst the mound of pillows piled upon the glider where I usually sit when writing on my porch. Karl and I took a walk that evening and upon returning, I forgot to retrieve it. I left it outside overnight – and of course, there was a wild and thoroughly drenching torrential downpour that raged for hours that night.

I Searched High and Low

Friday morning I searched everywhere for my journal. I turned my bedroom upside down, my living room inside out. I looked on the porch several times, but with great relief found nothing – until I started dismantling the mountain of pillows and cushions to place them out in the sun to dry. It’s hard to express the horror I felt when I made my grim discovery.

Indeed, I even wrote (in my first entry of my present journal) how the magnitude of the soaking storm that occurred that Thursday evening was so extreme that, had it been a storm of any normal size, the journal would’ve been protected. First of all, it had a thick plastic cover on it. Second of all, it was so deeply buried – under several layers of pillows. It was outrageously ridiculous that so much rain fell that evening such that everything – all those layers – became utterly waterlogged.

Indeed, for days afterward, I would sit on that glider and water would drip out of the bottom-most cushions.

Simply Devastated

I was stunned. In shock. For the first time ever, I’d failed to take care of my journal. I’d neglected one of my most sacred objects.

It probably sounds weird, but I’ve been too ashamed to even write about and confess this publicly until now. While I realize it is just words, it’s not a human being, nor a beloved pet, I experienced a deep and irretrievable loss.

Once I write something down, I let it go. I give myself permission to release the need to obsessively try to remember all the details of everything I experience. And through the pandemic up to that point, I’d been tracking a number of dreams and journeys (the shamanic kind) that seemed particularly significant. A few in particular almost felt prophetic, and documenting them in my journal was my best way of keeping track.

To make matters worse, I may have mentioned before that I write dreams and journeys in different colors in my journals to make them stand out. It’s then easier for me to locate those extraordinary moments when I go searching for them later. Imagine my dismay – my actual sense of mourning – when I realized that my journeys and dreams had literally been washed away. For whatever reason, the colors I use for those special events orange, green, and red, of the very same pens I use in black and blue ink to write my everyday experiences, ‘ran’ completely off the pages, leaving nary a trace behind.

Started Anew

So on August 2nd, 2020, I began my Pandemic Journal #2. Of course, I’ve kept the first, as can be seen from the photos I’m including with this post. But sadly, it seems only my more mundane entries can still be read. While I’m grateful that anything could be salvaged…

The loss is real.

Rich Details of a Journey – Lost; Photo: L. Weikel

(T-355)

Inflection Point – Day 727

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Inflection Point

Listening to President-Elect Joe Biden’s speech this evening, one of the phrases he used to describe this moment was ‘inflection point.’ While I had a basic grasp of what he meant when he used this term, I nevertheless felt the urge to look it up.

Dictionary.com set forth four main definitions, with the second definition having six sub-headings. I wasn’t expecting that many options. However, it was the fourth entry that described the situation most accurately:

  1. Mathematics. a change of curvature from convex to concave or vice versa.

When I read that definition, I ‘saw’ and understood.

Imagine a Contact

Imagine a ‘hard’ contact lens, a concave surface, face down on a table. The election of Donald Trump four years ago essentially had us, as a country, ski boarding down the curvature of that contact lens toward an untimely and devastating crash landing into the table.

Suddenly, however, through the election of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, we’ve reached an inflection point. This is where the concave shape of our trajectory changes completely. The contact flips so that it is convex, tilting upward.

Now, instead of barreling toward a future that has us destined for a metaphorical face-plant and certain death, we’re heading upward. And not just any old ‘upward.’ No, where we’re headed, the sky’s the limit.

It’s a new day. All of us can dream new dreams – but especially, our little girls. Our country reached an inflection point and the trajectory of our journey has changed.

We – they – can set their sights where there are no limits. We – they – can reach for the stars.

Stars Above – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-384)

Weather is Turning Foul – Day 544

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Photo: L. Weikel

Foul

The weather is turning as foul as predicted. Wind is whipping fat globs of rain and slush through the air like paintball pellets. Hearing the splatter on the windows as I sat down to write, I just realized I forgot to bring in my plants, the ones I’d recently allowed to spend some time outside, ‘on their own,’ encouraging them to reconnect with their feral roots.

OK, phew! I brought everything in. Wow, it’s nasty out there.

This Week

I’d like to welcome all of you to the weekend. It may not feel all that different from the days of the week that you just endured, but I think we all know, for most of us at least, there still remains a psychological difference. Old habits die hard.

And as I write, thunder rumbles.

Even though I love thunder and lightning, thunder can feel ominous – or perfectly in keeping with the milieu of the times. I must admit that’s how it feels at the moment: a perfect, ominous warning.

If anyone felt this week was particularly stressful, I want you to hear me: YOU ARE NOT ALONE! I don’t know if it was the full moon or the culmination of being on lockdown for almost two months, the relentless information, misinformation, lying, and scare tactics we’re bombarded with, or what it is. But this has been a week.

I’ve had a number of people tell me that they’re having trouble sleeping. Even if they succeed in falling asleep, they often find themselves dreaming copiously and restlessly, and often the dreams turn to nightmares.

Early Stretch

It sounds like a good portion of these dreams and nightmares are taking apocalyptic turns. Everything feels momentous these days. We really don’t know what’s coming at us from one day to the next, so it only stands to reason that we play out possible scenarios in our dreams.

Seriously: the mere word pandemic sounds like something that belongs in a Hollywood movie, not the past two months of our lives. And now, with this bizarre push to get the country back up and ‘running’ no matter the cost in human lives, we’re entering a new phase of a national nightmare.

We’ve only just begun learning how to deal with all of this. And yet, we’re almost getting whiplash, trying to keep track of whether ‘the worst is over’ or – more likely – the ‘worst’ has moved to other parts of the country where it appears honesty about testing and infection rates and deaths may not be the highest priority of those calling the shots.

False Sense of Security

My sense is that people all across the country have watched the way New York has handled the initial crush of cases, including the way Governor Cuomo has addressed his constituents (and the rest of the nation) each and every day with facts and emotional fortitude. On some level, even though many find it easy to judge the hell out of them, deep down, we all believe we’re New Yorkers. We felt that on 9/11 and we feel it now. We resonate with the attitude of “New York Tough.”

But I fear the success New York is having in meeting this challenge head-on is creating a false sense of security for the rest of the nation.

The push to get back to an illusory normal is almost certainly ill-advised, especially since the rest of the country (outside of maybe New York and New Jersey) have yet to reach their peak. I have a feeling many of us know that to be true on a visceral level. Much more loss is about to take place, and it’s the stuff of nightmares.

Honesty? Transparency?

And while we hope the governors of the states where numbers are starting to soar (when they deign to reveal those numbers – another tip off that ‘this is not New York’) will put their people first and give them every fact and number and piece of information that will help them make informed decisions for their health and that of their families, if we’re honest, we can see the writing on the wall.

The requisite honesty and transparency are profoundly and horrifyingly lacking.

Perhaps we need to give expression to the terror that courses through our body when we consider how fast and far the Coronavirus is spreading across the country, especially in our nursing and extended care facilities, prisons, and certain factory settings (such as meat packing plants), and other places of congregate living or working. We need to express it so we can release it.

And isn’t that really what this full moon is all about? Letting the light of the full moon shine upon our fears so we can identify them and let them go ?

The first responsibility is to be honest with ourselves. Then we can wake from our nightmares and prevail. Together.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-567)

Three Different Things – Day 390

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  Photo: L. Weikel

Three Different Things

I distinctly remember thinking, as I was finishing up last night’s post, that I had at least three different subjects I could write a post about. They popped into my head just as I was finishing up, and I thought to myself, “I should write them down.”

Well, contrary to what I urge all my Listening Retreat participants to do whenever they receive some guidance or have a dream, I neglected to do so. I looked around, didn’t see anything within arm’s length upon which I could write those ideas down, so I gave up.

I regret to admit that I also distinctly remember saying to myself, “Oh forget it. I’ll remember them.”

Famous Last Words

Oh, what a trap that is. In fact, I think that’s one of the single most frequent reasons we give ourselves for not writing dreams down, especially. How many times have you awakened from a dream that is crystal clear in your mind – indeed, so crisp and detailed that you think to yourself, “I’ll have no trouble remembering this!?”

A corollary to the ‘this is so fresh and real I’ll never forget it’ syndrome, at least with respect to dreams, is the thought, “This is unbelievably mundane. So mundane that I’m not even going to waste my time and risk waking myself up even more than I already am to write it down.”

I specifically warn against the perils of failing to write these types of dreams down because I’ve found those seemingly mundane dreams often harbor surprisingly enlightening double entendres. And it’s virtually impossible (for me at least) to have the clarity and perspective to discern that I’m in the midst of a ‘play of words’ when it’s 4:00 a.m. and I’m still have inside the dreamworld. So – it’s only through the direct experience of realizing the depth of these seemingly superficial dreams that I’ve realized the importance of capturing them on paper.*

Not One of the Three

All of which reminds me of a dream I had a few weeks ago that definitely seemed mundane and a little weird when I lay in bed realizing I’d been dreaming – and contemplated rolling over and resuming my slumber. It seemed terribly mundane (and a bit unsettling) and I could see no point to writing it down. Indeed, it’s almost as if there was a little gremlin between my ears (no comment) actively urging me to just roll over and go back to sleep.

But I didn’t.

And when I read that dream in my journal the next morning…I sorta kinda got goosebumps.

I want you to have that experience as well. We are such amazing creatures and there is so very much more to us and our experiences than we realize, including the way we communicate with ourselves, each other, and even, perhaps, other realities.

The funny thing is, this was not one of the three topics I should’ve written down last night! Hopefully I’ll remember them tomorrow…

Reaching out.
Photo: L. Weikel

*I do know some people who’ve taken to speaking their dreams into a recorder or their iPhone, which they keep by their bedside. If that works for you, go for it. I nevertheless feel that the physical act of writing the dream out has a particularly unique ability to trigger our awareness of our psyche’s use of homonyms, etc. to get a message across.

(T-721)

Wasps In Our Face: Part 2 – Day 311

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Creating the nest – Photo: L. Weikel

Wasps In Our Face: Part 2

As I mentioned the other day, I’ve been puzzled by the influx of wasps into my life this summer. I’d even forgotten, until I wrote that post, that I’d been stung by a wasp exactly two weeks before discovering the intricate nest of paper wasps on our home’s office window.

It’s a little disconcerting, I’ll admit. It’s a large nest, and they’re continuing with new construction. And even though I looked them up and discovered that they don’t routinely attack people for sport or entertainment, they will seriously attack you up if you mess with their nest.

That does pose a dilemma, although in our case, I suppose it’s not as bad as it would be if it were on our porch or close to our front door.

Leave Me Alone…

This first tidbit of information on Wasp reminds me, actually, of what I learned about the Copperhead snake that I nearly fell on. Both of these creatures (a) are a bit scary and warrant being given a wide berth; but (b) are not known to go after a human unless we provoke them, either by accidentally stepping on them or going after their nest.

In other words, they leave us alone unless and until we fail to respect their boundaries and get in their faces. That feels significant to me.

On a purely practical note, I didn’t realize it, but they tend to prey on caterpillars and other destructive insects, which I suppose may be one of their greatest contributions to the ecosystem. They also do engage in some pollination, although not – I believe – to the same extent as, say, honeybees. One slightly creepy aspect of their eating habits is that they paralyze their prey instead of killing it. They bring the paralyzed captive back to the nest so the grubs can feast on it, and since it’s not dead, it lasts a bit longer – and doesn’t rot.

Busy, busy wasps; nurturing those grubs – Photo: L. Weikel

Animal-Wise

One of my go-to resources helping me understand why a particular creature may be showing up as a messenger in my life (or in the lives of my clients) are the books by Ted Andrews. While he’s written many, my favorites are Animal Speak, Animal-Wise, and Nature Speak.

The ‘keynote’ expressed in Animal-Wise on Wasp is “Protective nourishment and role fulfillment; dreams fulfilled through practical effort.”

As I read through the couple pages of information, these words popped out at me as being relevant to me and my life right now:

“…(Wasp and its activities) reveals how to construct and nurture our dreams. The six-sided cell is a geometric shape associated with the heart. The grubs are the things of the heart that must be nurtured and hatched in solidness. Dreams without practical preparations are more likely to fail and die. Dreams motivate us, but their fulfillment is based upon work.” (emphasis added)

Wasp grubs (dreams?) – Photo: L. Weikel

Yes, I’m getting a clear message that I need to get to work on manifesting my dreams. Interestingly, Andrews continued: “Wasps have a cycle of power ranging from spring to fall. Late summer it is stronger. Wasps have a tendency to become aggressive in the late summer and early fall. And this cycle is usually at place for those to whom the wasp is a messenger.” (emphasis added)

Andrews then asks some questions that, I must admit, are worthy of my serious contemplation (and getting answered in my journal): “When wasps show up, we should ask ourselves some important questions. Are we feeling paralyzed in the pursuit of our goals? Are we building from the ground up? Are we working solitary or for the group? Are we fulfilling our tasks? Are those around us doing their parts? Are we pursuing our dreams in a practical manner? Are we getting too aggressive in our pursuits?”

I feel it might be worth asking if I am being aggressive enough to achieve my dreams.

He concludes with this thought: “Protection is strong around you now. Dreams will be fulfilled through practical efforts and fulfilling your role and responsibilities.”

Grateful Contemplation and Appreciation

I am grateful for the appearance of these fascinating creatures in my life. It doesn’t escape me that they’ve built their nest precisely in such a way that enables me to watch how they nurture those first, inner grubs – the dreams of the hive – and how they build everything around them.

Seems I’d best get to work.

Building, creating, working – Photo: L. Weikel

One Last Thought

I have to admit, the appearance of this nest from the outside of our house is a bit… disconcerting. I share it with you below.

To me, it looks like a woman, blindfolded, her mouth open in some sort of expression. What is she calling out? Does she represent Justice? Or is she just a mummy?

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-800)

A New Messenger – Day 138

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Pileated Woodpecker – Photo: L.Weikel

A New Messenger

I’m luckier than most people. Or maybe I’m not – maybe I’m just more acutely aware of the amazing people and experiences that come into my life on an astonishingly frequent basis, and thus feel luckier. And maybe I seem more aware simply because I ‘pay attention to that stuff.’

Take for instance the fact that a new messenger arrived in my life this morning.

This beautiful Winged One literally squawked and resoundingly banged its head right outside my bedroom window until I woke up and paid attention to it. It found me in my dreams, and both boisterously and tenaciously dragged me out of my sleep and into my day. It even danced around the tree, teasingly allowing me to take its photo a number of times, even though the camera kept weirdly shifting to a brilliant white screen when I zoomed in on it.

A Rare Sighting

Some might say it was a Spirit bird for that reason. (And others might say it was just the way the light was hitting the iPhone, Lisa. Settle yourself.)

Either way, at least I did manage to snag a photo I could use to share with all of you, although it doesn’t do justice to the brilliant beauty and captivating authority exuding from my Pileated friend.

I want to note a few things here: We have lived in this house for 34 years. During that time, I have seen a Pileated Woodpecker here on our property one other time, and that was about four years ago or so. It may actually have been in a tree between our house and that of the parents of the infamous Duckhead, which would qualify this Pileated as indeed the first one to make an appearance on our property to our knowledge.

It’s thus extremely odd that this fairly ginormous woodpecker seemed to make a point of diving into my subconscious and pulling me out of a dream to communicate with me. This is particularly true when you consider Pileateds are notoriously shy and generally like to hide from people.

Significance of Pileated Woodpecker

I only just now had a chance to look up the spiritual significance often attributed specifically to Pileated Woodpeckers.

This is from Animal-Wise* by Ted Andrews:

“PILEATED WOODPECKER – Keynote: Follow your own rhythm, regardless of others

“I am fortunate to have in the woods around my home at least seven types of woodpeckers, including the pileated. All woodpeckers teach us something about a new rhythm at play within our life. Some do so more strongly than others and the pileated woodpecker is one of them.

All woodpeckers have a strong bill, pointed for chipping and digging through the bark of a tree for insects. Their stiff tail is used as a prop, allowing them to ‘drum.’

The pileated is a wary kind of woodpecker. One of the largest, it is not always seen. It is solid black, distinguishing it from most other birds and it has the red crested plumage. Any kind of crown or crest on an animal is usually an indication to follow one’s own thinking.

When the pileated appears, it is time to follow your own thinking and your own rhythms. Be wary of others trying to nudge you into a rhythm or behavior with which you are not comfortable. Trust your own instincts as to the rhythm that works for you. Though others may not understand your thinking processes as you take on new endeavors, do not be dissuaded – even if you do not quite understand them. The pileated reminds us that our way will work best now. Take your thoughts and give them action.”

Big Day for This Message

A lot’s been coming to me lately in the form of messages, both overt and subtle. There is no question but that change is charging the air around me. A few times lately, I’ve literally sensed a faint buzzing or sizzling charge in the atmosphere around me.

While I am not fully aware of the changes that are trying to manifest in my life (even though I sense them nearby), I can’t help but honor Pileated Woodpecker for knocking at the door of my dreams this morning: my 60th birthday.

There’s Work to be done. And I’m grateful and excited to feel so supported and encouraged.

Pileated Woodpecker – wikipedia.com

*affiliate link

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