Great Horned Owl

Farewell to 2022

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 6 Comments
Rosemary Sprigs – Photo: L. Weikel

Farewell to 2022

My intention as I write this post is that it will be read, or at least received, in the early morning hours of December 31, 2022. I’ve been thinking a lot about this blog lately and, more specifically, the relationship I feel with you, my (very cherished) readers. Some of you I know personally, but most I may never meet – face-to-face, at least. Yet in spite of that fact, I do in fact feel a bond with you. I miss the connection we cultivated over the years of writing (and you reading) my 1111 Devotion. Suddenly I felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and bid farewell to 2022 – and share it with you.

I was walking in the golden slant of late afternoon sunshine, drinking in the balmy temperatures, weirdly unsettling after last week’s hellacious deep-freeze, when a fox raced across a field right in front of me. A Great Horned Owl hooted twice in the forest to my right, just as the sun dipped below the horizon. A lone Screech Owl whimpered its forlorn call from its perch close to the cliffs, long after the light of dusk had darkened to midnight blue.

Each of these encounters felt intimate and sacred. I know, on the mundane level, that these creatures could not care less about me. Indeed, if they were even aware of me, they undoubtedly wanted to escape my gaze as quickly as possible. (At the very least, I know the Fox started hauling ass across that field as soon as it made eye contact with me – an electric moment that I must admit was palpable.) But living in the mundane world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Beyond the Mundane

And I guess that’s what made me think about this blog in that moment. In each of those moments of connection with the wild, to be honest. Sure, there’s the mundane way of approaching our lives. It’s rote and mechanistic and borders on tragic. When I contemplate how most people live lives utterly devoid of magic (and often deliberately so), I want to cry.

If you’ve read my posts for any length of time, you know I’m not referring to the hocus-pocus brand of magic, although there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, in my opinion. Rather, I’m referring to the ‘magic’ of imagining a deeper relationship with the Beings with whom we share this planet. Yes, I feel creatures might show up in my world to urge me to pay attention to something in my life. And yes, I like to think there are invisible threads of connection between all of us – and we all ‘show up’ for each other, one way or another, when we need each other the most.

Time to Show Up

So I decided it was time for me to show up in your in-box (or Facebook feed or whatever) again. It’s time for us all to prepare for another set of seasons, another round of planting intentions, nurturing them as they take root, cultivating their growth, and watching them flourish.

But before we can expect those intentions to thrive, we need to clear away the hucha (heavy, unrefined energy) we accumulated from last year. Even if we had a banner year of mostly wonderful experiences, there’s no escaping the energetic dross that’s circulating in our collective environment. From images (and personal experiences) of war and the atrocities being perpetrated in the Ukraine and elsewhere, to the everyday revulsion our souls feel when realizing how much hate, fear, misogyny, racism, and just plain awfulness is in plain view, right before our eyes, being inflicted on each other, every day. Sometimes it’s almost too much to bear.

A Sweet Ritual to Let Go

Here is something I’ve done with family and friends, and which I feel honored to share with you. If you’re so inclined, pick up some fresh rosemary at the grocery store today. A sprig for each person in your household is perfect. Tie a ribbon or piece of colorful yarn around each one if you seek a festive look.

Pair up (but you can always do this to yourself if you’re welcoming the new year in in solitude) and take turns gently caressing the rosemary from the top of your partner’s head to the tips of their toes. Your intention, which you set at the beginning of this exercise, is to ‘sweep’ all the hucha from their energetic field surrounding their body.

Once you’ve done this for each other, if you have the ability to do so, burn the rosemary and watch your hucha go up in smoke. You are now cleansed of the energetic detritus of the past year, ready to embrace 2023 clean, fresh, and eager for new beginnings.

If you can’t safely burn your rosemary, I suggest either burying it or, as a last resort, simply throwing it away or composting it.

What’s most important is your intention to lovingly sweep clean your partner – and equally important – for you to willingly release your hucha.

I bid you a fond farewell to 2022.

Sunset 30 Dec 2022 – Photo: L. Weikel

Owl Shagging Moon – ND #39

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Spotted on my walk (but not today) – Photo: L. Weikel

Owl Shagging Moon

The full moon making its appearance this Monday evening (6:48 p.m. EST on January 17th) is often referred to as the Wolf Moon. Given the paucity of wolves in our local environs, at least, and also based upon my personal observations (at least audibly), I propose it is more appropriately named the Owl Shagging Moon.

Most of our walks this week took place at dusk. Despite of our best intentions, inevitably the sun is making its last hurrah just as we get going. On the plus side, I’ve captured some stunning sunsets on my iPhone. And while I hope I’ll never tire of appreciating the magnificence of these works of art, I’ve become acutely aware of something else happening recently, just after the sun dips below the horizon.

All of a sudden, literally moments after the sun’s brilliant, usually carnelian visage slips beyond our view, a chorus of Great Horned Owl hoots starts bouncing off the massive walls of rock carved by Tohickon Creek through the millennia.

Hoot; counter-hoot. Sometimes hoots overlapping each other. One thing I can tell you: I’ve heard more hoots in the past week than I usually hear the rest of the year combined. It’s mating time, baby!

In the glow of a July night – Photo: L. Weikel

Some Action Happening

I can only surmise there’s some action happening in the treetops, and sometime in March we can  expect some owlets to be hatching. Not that I’d be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of them. But a girl can dream.

This has been the most active January (hooting-wise) I can remember in quite a while. It could just be a function of the time of day we’re walking, or the relative mildness of the weather we’ve had recently compared to other years. But hearing them calling to each other yet again this evening reminded me that I do think this full moon needs to be re-named. I can’t say I’ve heard a single wolf howl. (Thank goodness, given where we live!)

The calls of the Great Horned Owls are kind of a lovely reminder of how fertile our nesting can be during the cold moons of January and February.

It makes me ponder what I can do right now that’s playful, satisfying, and inherently creative, that just might lead to something new hatching in 6-8 weeks.

(T+39)

Solstice Is Upon Us – ND #13

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Solstice Eve Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

Solstice Is Upon Us

Late this afternoon, I managed to capture a glimpse of the sun just before it descended below the horizon. Yet another raptor darted from the bushes to my left – a falcon this time – crossing my path and weaving effortlessly amongst the saplings and grapevines. Hawks had accompanied me the entire length of my extended walk; I’d seen at least four, not counting this smaller, dark brown falcon. “The Solstice is upon us!” the falcon cried. “Time to fluff our feathers and hunker down. You need to get home,” it added.

And so the longest night of the year began with a messenger swooping before my eyes. This must have been Spirit’s last ditch effort to gain my attention, since a Red-tailed Hawk had literally executed a combination swoop/jump from tree branch to tree branch in front of me, spanning a quarter of a mile, its massive wings cupped forward, beckoning me to follow.

No photos of those quick hops from branch to branch. The best I could do was snag one of it facing the setting sun, turning its back to me, facing the wild unknown most bravely.

Hawk Facing West – Photo: L. Weikel

Pensive

I’m feeling decidedly pensive this evening. I was keenly aware of the impending darkness this evening, especially the fact that tonight the darkness would last the greatest amount of time. Our fire is burning gently, reminding us of just how cold it became tonight – all of a sudden, too. I know I’d looked at the Weather Channel app several times over the past 24 hours and not once did I see the call for such frigid temperatures as those we awakened to this morning.

The cold only drives us deeper within.

Contemplating the dreams we wish to manifest over the next three months is our focus at the moment. What changes are we seeking? What messages will we be delivering? What is the coming year going to teach us about ourselves? How can we best honor the our heart’s desire?

So many questions. Such freezing temperatures driving us inside, making sure we hunker down.

Tomorrow we’ll awaken and the days will begin lengthening ever so slowly.

Enjoy the night. Revel in the silence. Or is that the call of a Great Horned Owl I hear?

(T+13)