friends

Angels’ Wings – ND # 75

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Angels’ Wings Etched In The Sky – Photo: L. Weikel

Angels’ Wings

Today was an exquisite winter day. Bright sunlight reflected off the choppy, muddy waves of the Lenape Sipu as it flowed toward the freedom of the Atlantic, while wisps of clouds that reminded me of angels’ wings inscribed the azure sky above with a fine-tipped nib.

The weird thing is, I’m not one to see angelic forms all that often. Most of you probably know me well enough to appreciate I’m more of a person who sees animals in the clouds than anything else. Angels, not so much.

I could kick myself now because I flirted with stopping in the middle of the road when I first spotted the wispy figures, but thought better of it. While the road I was on was deserted in that moment, there was nowhere for me to pull off safely. It didn’t feel like a wise move to try to get a good shot of those angels’ wings. I would’ve had to get out of the car to get a clear photo of them without telephone poles or wires marring the image.

Shared Perfection

My delight in walking along the bank of my beloved Delaware River was heightened by the fact that I was in the company of dear friends not seen in person in a very long time.

The funny thing was, as we walked and talked and caught up on each others’ lives, even more wispy hints of angelic forms appeared above our heads. Already regretting my choice not to stop and take a couple photos of the sky earlier, I did manage to snag one photo as we walked.

I didn’t want to take my phone out of my pocket – even to take photos. I just wanted us to be together without any electronic devices distracting or disturbing us. As a result, I only have the single photo, above, to share with you tonight.

Must Be Something to It

But I have to say, for all my resistance, there must have been something ‘angelic’ going on. Not only did I see them on my way to meet my friends, but also, as the photo above attests, they continued showing up in the sky above as we walked.

The final moment causing me to surrender and say, “OK, angels are definitely present and watching over us today,” came when we entered a rock and gem shop at the conclusion of our visit. One of my friends took me to see a type of stone that was persistently calling her name. And there they were again – angels’ wings. The crystalline structure was precisely reminiscent of angels’ wings; and yet I hesitated to state the obvious. (Because, again, angels aren’t usually my ‘thing.’)

But there it was, even written in the description of the stone itself.  Seraphinite. Seraphim.

Exquisite.

It seems only right to accept that our visit was smiled upon and watched over by the angelic realm. I call upon that realm every single time I open Sacred Space. Why wouldn’t they generously bless a reunion of friends?

(T+75)

Sushi, Brownies, and Friendship – Day 884

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Sushi – Not tonight’s, but close enough – Photo: L. Weikel

Sushi, Brownies, and Friendship

Some nights I go off on tangents about raptors, clouds, and messages. But sometimes the only reasonable course is to just take a time out and focus on sushi, brownies, and friendship.

I want to continue the conversation I began last night about Seeing patterns and connecting dots and how all of that comes together differently for each of us. But tonight is not the night for me to pursue that line of thought.

No, tonight was a night of sushi, brownies and friendship, and the upshot of that fact is the truth that I don’t feel like going so deep or so wide into my thoughts or feelings. Instead, I’m simply reveling in the sweet truth of what it felt like to sit around a fire safely ensconced in a fire pit, in the midst of a windless, completely still evening, with people I’ve known for all but maybe twelve months of their life to those I only met minutes before pulling up a chair to the fire.

Ah, the freedom of being outside and more than six feet away from all of these people (there actually were only four of us around the fire), yet still able to look at their faces – their full, maskless faces – and react to their expressions and laughter and full-toothed grins. It was the best birthday gift ever.  (But I’ll admit, the sushi and brownies were exquisite as well).

Knowing What’s Important

Sitting together outside tonight we shared a number of precious moments: the barely waxing newest of moons in Taurus, flashing but a tiny fingernail shape in the western sky, while captivatingly revealing the rest of her shadowy self if you looked closely enough. What a sight; especially when glimpsed through the trees that are just starting to bud out and contemplate bursting into full, leafy glory over the next few days.

Another moment? The satisfaction of coaxing the fire to rise to the occasion, licking its flames across the delicious bark of the wood we fed it. Ah, the warmth and flickering of flames that danced across our countenances as we told stories of years gone by to give the newcomer a taste of who we are and how we share certain bits of history.

Everything has a story if you give it enough time. Even people we’ve known all our lives have stories they can share that surprise or beguile us.

Sometimes, the further we travel from home, the more we realize that the people closest to us might just be the most exotic. Or at the very least, the most eclectic.

Amazing Seeds Being Planted

It feels to me as though this week is a particularly powerful week in which to plant the seeds of what we wish to manifest not only in the next thirty days or so, but also in the next six months and event he next year. The new moon (on Sunday evening) was in Aries but the seeds we’ve been planting since then – yesterday, today, and tomorrow – have been, and are being, planted while the moon is in earthy, nurturing Taurus.

To me, that feels luxuriously nurturing and like the perfect environment to cradle those incipient dreams.

I’m going to call tonight as one of those evenings we all yearn for but only rarely experience. Filled with sushi, brownies, and friends, it was momentary perfection. For a few hours this evening, four people sat around a crackling fire, listened to distant peepers, exclaimed over Canadian geese honking their way directly overhead, and knew we were all exactly where we were supposed to be in that moment.

Decades may separate us, but in the moment, we were all simply reveling in the company of kindred spirits. I couldn’t be more grateful for the experience.

(T-228)

For You, For Us – Day 446

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Photo: L. Weikel

For You, For Us

It’s been a week.

Actually, I’m pretty sure we can all agree the ordeal’s been going on for far longer than a week (and will undoubtedly spin out into the foreseeable future). But this week, in particular, has been especially brutal. And this evening’s climax, albeit both predictable and foreseeable, was nevertheless searingly disappointing. And deeply worrisome.

A Respite With and For My Friends

While I was noodling around FB a little, contemplating what I might write this evening, I came across a ‘share’ from a friend of mine that shifted my perspective. It immediately made me think of you – the people with whom I share myself, my thoughts, my joys, my worries, my peeves, and my devotion.

Right away, I knew I wanted to share his share that shifted my spirits, with you. Why? Because of this truth: a joy shared is magnified exponentially, just as a sorrow shared is halved.

What I find especially fascinating, though, is that I call this man who touched my heart with his FB share my friend. The truth is, we barely know each other. I live in Pennsylvania, he lives in Salt Lake City. We met eight years ago and spent maybe ten days total in each other’s company in Iquitos, Peru. We’ve not seen each other nor spoken since the end of February, 2012.

We rarely, if ever, communicate directly, even though we’re FB ‘friends.’ But FB does give us the ability to stay in touch tangentially. And one of the greatest blessings, for me, are the thoughtful and often fascinatingly beautiful or poignant posts he shares. They’re often insightful in some way, provocative of a different perspective, or simply loving or peaceful.

This friend I made eight years ago when I was in the throes of grieving for my son makes a difference in my life. His posts often touch my heart or make me think or perceive in a different way. And yet, as I said, we (he and the eight or so other people in our group) only spent a total of a little more than ten days together- albeit ten intense days.

The Briefest Encounters

My point is that the briefest encounters can make a huge difference in our lives. Kindnesses, smiles, words of encouragement, gestures of hope…they make a difference.

We make a difference.

Here again is the song my friend Brock shared on FB this evening that shifted my perspective. I needed to hear it. I bet you do, too. I hope you feel what I did when I listened because we need to carry on and not lose our heart.

It’s all right – we have each other.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-665)

I AM Solstice Symposium – Day 400

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Friends

This will be a short post tonight. I only have about half an hour to get this written, as I’ve been struggling with – no – agonizing over – no – crafting the Hoot Alert I just sent out, advertising the upcoming I AM Solstice Symposium.

To any of you out there who are fluent or even simply conversant in creating marketing materials in the digital age, you probably think I’m exaggerating the effort it took me to send that out. But alas, the struggle is real.

I titled this post “Friends” because the host of the I AM Solstice Symposium, Renee Baribeau, is my friend. Indeed, she is one of those friends who pushes me to break through my comfort zone. She challenges me. She pokes and prods and offers me opportunities that I would otherwise probably never have.

That’s Friendship?

Some of you may be thinking, “Yikes. With friends like that…” But I beg to differ.

To me at least, friends are not people who just rubber stamp your feelings. They listen; yes. They have compassion; absolutely.

But do they indulge you when they think you’re misperceiving who you are or what you have to offer to the world? Do they give you a pass when you think you can’t do something, just because you’ve never done it before?

Not in my book.

To me, being a friend is holding a vision of a person out so they can see themselves from your perspective. Being a friend is refusing to buy their bullshit about what they think they can or can’t say, do, or accomplish. Being a friend is holding them up to a higher aspiration than they dare hold for themselves.

I AM Solstice Symposium

Renee and I have both grown a lot in the past 15 years or so that we’ve known each other. Ever since I met her, she’s been pushing me to “get myself out there.” Our first collaboration was the Business of Healing – a weekend-long event she produced in Joshua Tree, CA in which she persuaded me to speak. This was the first time I’d ever given a ‘class’ of any kind – and the first of many times Renee has pushed me past my comfort zone.

Back then, I was the one who’d published a book. Now look at her: a Hay House author. And not ‘just’ an author with a major publisher, but creator of  Winds of Spirit, a book that is “Winner of the Nautilus Award, Body Mind Spirit President’s Choice Award, Indies Finalist and the Readers’ Choice Award.”

That’s pretty amazing. And I’m very, very proud of her.

When Renee invited me to participate in the first I AM Symposium, I did not readily accept. I really had to think about it.  I was flattered that she asked me, but just the thought of being heard by so many made my blood run cold. If I’m honest, I have to admit that she cajoled me into taking the risk.

This year’s Solstice Symposium is my 4th I AM Symposium event. Obviously, I’m grateful that she thinks enough of me to include me among the roster of the much ‘bigger’ names who are also participating. But even more, I’m grateful that she cared enough to push me past my comfort zone.

Bottom Line

I don’t know if I’ve pushed Renee to break through any of her self-imposed limitations, because I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever seen her let a barrier get in her way. She’s a dynamo. She makes things happen. She’s…indefatigable. And she’s a true friend.

I’m actually extraordinarily lucky. I have more truly amazing friends than anyone’s entitled to have. And I hope they know I try to be to them the type of friend I’ve described above – one that pushes them to be the best and most amazing versions of themselves that they can be. The version of themselves that I see shining out of them whenever I look at them.

Please join us this weekend for the I AM Solstice Symposium. For more fun, and to bring the sacred into your home in a unique manner, sign up to be a Fire Tender. It’s a cool way to join a community of soulful people who listen to the wind.

(T-711)

Tick Tock – Day 182

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Tick Tock     

I guess I felt a teensy bit too smug last night – getting my post written and hitting the ‘publish’ button with about a minute to spare.

So here I am: I have 20 minutes to write something and maybe – possibly – if I’m lucky – snag a photo to include. I’m thinking my luck may have run out on that score.

Ha ha – just goes to show; right?

What a fascinating weekend we just had. It never ceases to amaze me how people can walk into your life one day and two days later leave as friends you know have entered your life for a reason.

Mother’s Day…

I wish I had more to say. Of course, I extend Mother’s Day wishes for happiness and appreciation to all the mothers in my life. You know who you are.

And I say to my own kids – all five of you, but also the other kids out there who are mine (you know who you are, too) – I love you. My life is exponentially richer as a result of having each one of you in my life.

I love being your mother.

(T-929)

Electricity Restored, Awareness Heightened – Day 113

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Aftermath: Still Ominous – Photo: L.Weikel

Electricity Restored and Awareness Heightened

I’m delighted to report that our electricity was restored at approximately 4:30 this afternoon.

The last time we lost our electricity for any significant amount of time was in 2012, after Hurricane Sandy, when it was out for something like ten days or so. What an awful, deeply uncomfortable ordeal. A tiny, insignificant taste, I realize, of what so many others have endured following tornadoes, wildfires, and hurricanes. But enough of a taste to leave a stark impression.

But during that profoundly uncomfortable and very chilly time, we had guests. Our dear friends, Karen Ward and John Cantwell, founders of Sli an Chroi (Path of the Heart) from Dublin, Ireland, were visiting us and presenting a wonderful retreat on Celtic shamanism and spirituality.

Asking Our Guests to Rough It

Karen and John were troopers throughout that experience in 2012. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, for them to ‘make do’ in our home without heat, lights, or running water. Nor did we yet have our fireplace installed (that came a mere two months later – lesson learned!), so we would sit briefly each night, swapping stories over candlelight before retiring to our respective bedrooms and the comfort of cuddling under piles of comforters!

Friends Come Through In a Big and Generous Way

At first we weren’t even sure if we would be able to follow through with offering the program, for we knew no one personally or commercially who had space that was not impacted by the electricity situation. Finally, one of my closest friends in the world offered to host our retreat in her living room – by the light and warmth of her gas fireplace. Janet and her daughters generously opened their doors and quite literally saved the day for all of us!

What a wonderful retreat it ended up being, too. Filled with magic and playfulness, wisdom and ancient insights, we spent the weekend reconnecting with our ancestors (Irish or not, it didn’t matter) in profound and meaningful ways.

Photo: L.Weikel

There are many aspects of our work together that weekend that I could write about here. And there’s a strong chance, too, that I’ll harvest ideas from those myriad experiences as we wend our way through the next 998 posts in my 1111 Devotion. But the one thing I want to focus upon this evening is yet another example of the power of words.

Naturally, a major focus of many of our conversations (of pretty much everyone, everywhere you went in our community) that long weekend centered upon the status of our electricity. It was not uncommon, if one were to simply grow quiet for a moment, to hear several conversations being carried on at once, each one of which was peppered with the phrases, ”We’ve lost our power;” “I have no power;” “How long will we have to be without power?” “When did you lose your power?” – and innumerable variations on that theme.

We’ve Lost our POWER?

It was our Irish visitors who called our attention to our flagrant disregard for the power of our words. In fact, they didn’t know what Karl and I were talking about when we picked them up at the airport and started babbling about our ‘lost power.’ That’s simply not the way a disruption in electrical service is described in Ireland. Ever. As a result, they were acutely aware of the precise words we were using to describe our situation, for they sounded so odd and curiously out of place.

And they noticed it even more when we gathered at Janet’s home for the retreat. They were astonished by how all these Americans were going on and on about having lost their power. They were appalled at our lack of precision with our vocabulary, and rightly called us out on it.

Precision is Important

Thus, since October of 2012, I know I, and my entire family, have been careful to exercise precision in our language when a situation such as last night’s occurs.

To be clear? Our electricity cut out last night. We did not ‘lose our power.’

Has paying attention to how we describe this situation made a tangible difference in our lives? Who’s to say? One thing I do know, however, is that this was and is a case of walking my talk.

I know the power of words. I have seen how the way we phrase our description of situations can have a remarkable impact upon our perception of experiences. And I have seen words, used often or forcefully enough, wield a great deal of power.

So I pass along this lesson from my Irish brother and sister on to you: Use your power well. And don’t ‘lose’ it indiscriminately!

Aftermath: Brilliant Sky – Photo: L.Weikel

(T- 998)

Cleo Sharplin – Day Sixty Nine

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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)

A Trick of Loss – Day Sixty

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Photo by L. Weikel

A Trick of Loss

As I mentioned in a recent post, there are a lot of people in my life who seem to be going through a lot of shit recently. This may be new shit, or it may be older shit they’ve been enduring for a while or what maybe feels like an eternity. And recently, when they thought their shit should be settling down or getting a little easier, they feel like they’ve received a fresh and quite unexpected dump to endure.

Sorry for the scatological references, but sometimes that’s just the way it feels. And sometimes it just feels like the best way to describe the stuff we see happening all around us.

So Much Resilience and Courage

I spent time, both in person and long distance, with a variety of people dear to me today. And all of these people are facing challenges that I dare say no one would electto experience. Yet each of them, while handling each unique challenge in its appropriately different manner, is nevertheless enduring, courageously prevailing, and manifesting resilience in ways that command admiration and honor.

One particular situation I am thinking about this evening is a friend’s marking of an anniversary – the anniversary of a sudden death. A life partner swept away without a goodbye. Without any cherished final moments. Just…gone.

The One Year Anniversary

I know my friend has been dreading the one year anniversary because, let’s face it: who among us who’ve lost anyone truly dear to us hasn’t marked not only the anniversary of our loss, but also the one day, one week, one month, two month, three month markers since that fateful rending of our normality?

But there’s something about ‘one year.’ It feels momentous. I think in some ways, we hope, deep down, that the pain will miraculously lessen. The trauma won’t feel quite so acute.

And in some ways that sort of happens. Kind of.

But what has come as an odd revelation to me is how the actual arrival of the anniversary day is anti-climactic. It is not that the pain is less acute. No, the anniversary is the anniversary. And it is virtually inevitable that you will relive almost minute-by-minute how that fateful day unfolded one year ago.

Surprise: It’s Anti-Climactic

But in truth, you’ve lived and relived and hashed and rehashed that day so many times already, that doing it yet again on the exact one year anniversary almost seems like eating a stale sandwich.

The reason this is so is because the really tricky, shitty part about grief is that it gets you when you’re not quite paying attention. It sneaks up on you and hits you when you’re driving down the road and you pass a cornfield where a sudden, unbidden memory of a joke you shared wallops you between the eyes. It sneaks up on you when you think about the way they looked at you the last time you saw them and casually gave them a kiss. Or the finger.

And those are the things that you feel are going to all rear their ugly heads en masse on ‘the day of the anniversary.’ But they don’t. Not really.

That’s because in the four or five or seven or ten days before the anniversary you’ve already relived those wrenching moments that caught you like a gut-punch at various times throughout the year.

Yeah, it’s the several days before the actual anniversary that are the shittiest. Not only because you’re reliving memories, unbidden and relentless, setting them up in anticipation of the parade of them to be experienced on The Day. But also because precious few others are aware you are going through your own private hell of anticipation.

Grief is a Trickster

And so we get to The Day. We slog through it. We do the stale sandwich reliving of each moment. And there’s almost a sense of disappointment when the pain isn’t quite so breathtaking. Did we do it wrong? Why wasn’t it a more perfectly exquisite grief?

Because grief is a trickster. It took its toll days earlier, weeks earlier. And it’ll whack us again. But never when we most expect it. And it will never feel quite the same. It shifts every time it strikes.

Tomorrow, the day after, will be different. Better in some ways; not so much in others. But the pressure of somehow making sacred that milestone will be relieved, and that, in itself, is the gift.

And even though I didn’t say it, I’ve been holding that space for my friend since the beginning of this month, knowing it was happening. Feeling it. Doing my best to hold the center.

I’m sure we’re all doing this for each other. I know I’m continuing to hold it for many. You know who you are (even if you don’t).

That’s what love is all about.

(T-1051)

Sudden Sadness – Day Fourteen (T-1097)

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Sudden Sadness

 

Karl and I just safely arrived home from Massachusetts a short while ago.

Knowing I needed to write my post for the day, I logged onto my laptop. (My MacBook Air, for those of you who might be wondering. I will deal with Dell tomorrow.)

I clicked on Face Book almost without thinking, and the very first post that showed up on my feed was something from a dear friend from high school.

Her Use of the Past Tense Said It All

As soon as I started reading it, I noticed her use of past tense when referring to her brother, giving me a terrible, hollow feeling in my heart.

I didn’t know Mike – not really. He was a presence, but I was not; so he didn’t bother with me – as is not uncommon with older brothers in general, especially when they’re somewhat close in age, but just out of range, so to speak. But I knew ‘of’ him, and over the course of the recent years of FB, I’d gotten a taste of his sense of humor and loveable-bearness.

But Ann’s use of the past tense, and her description of the past two weeks – yes, only TWO WEEKS – before losing him this morning to an apparently lightning-swift or long undiagnosed cancer is stunning and heartbreaking.

And so I am once again left wanting to comfort, to console, to make sense of how devastatingly quickly any of our lives can change through loss or end.

I am glad for him that he did not linger or suffer. And I am beyond sad for the grief and loss of my dear friend Ann and her sister Jane.