hopelessness

Unsettled – ND #120

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Photo: L. Weikel

Unsettled

I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’m feeling profoundly unsettled, and I’m pondering what to do about it – if there’s even anything I can do.

By my reckoning, tonight’s post is my 1,231st. The initial 1111 were consecutive – not a day (or perhaps more accurately – not a 24 hour period) went by without me writing something to share with my readers. When I reached my professed goal, I indulged in a 12-day hiatus. And since then, I’ve written another 120 short posts, mostly observations of nature and contemplations on life, with a heavy emphasis on walking, puppies, clouds, and cats and a smattering of political and social observations.

Most of the time, even though I almost always think, “Ugh; I’ve nothing to write about tonight,” I’ll look at the photos I took with my iPhone and some small tale will ask to be told. Or a cloud formation will vie for my attention. Or some celestial event will either beg to be witnessed and reported on or its energetic influence on our lives offer to be contemplated.

Occasionally, tarot cards or a selection from an oracle deck might lend a perspective for us to reflect upon.

Dial Tone

Recently, however, I’ve been experiencing what I can best describe as a creative dial tone when I sit here with my fingertips poised above my keyboard.

Perhaps it’s knowing what’s going on in Ukraine that’s making me feel…mute. Or maybe it’s reading the headlines or hearing about the abhorrent attitudes and beliefs being spewed by so very many people who should know better. Or if they don’t know better, should not be in a position of leadership, power, or influence.

But I have to say, the images from Ukraine and the inner depths of darkness that must be within the soldiers who committed these acts seem to render me…bereft. The ability to perpetrate such acts upon another person has to stem from hopelessness.

What Has Happened?

It all seems to be related. And surely it must be – why else would we be seeing such harshness and cruelty toward ‘others’ all over the world? Is humanity bored? Has our species become so stagnant that, instead of joining together to care for the future of the Earth and the animals and our fellow humans, we’ve collectively just decided to say, “Screw it; let’s burn it all down?”

Again, it feels like hopelessness is the culprit. Which is interesting to me. Because I think so many of us think love is the answer. But love, while I do believe it is fundamentally the most powerful force in the Universe (all Universes), has – as a concept – become watered down and misunderstood.

No. I think hope is what we yearn for in our hearts right now.

The question is, where can we find it and how can each of us cultivate it in our lives?

Photo: L. Weikel

(T+120)

Unmoored – Day 786

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Eagle on the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Unmoored

I’ll admit it: I was on edge all day. It wasn’t even truly conscious. I just felt a vague unease, an inability to settle down and focus on anything. I tried taking a break and visiting my refuge: the Tohickon Creek. Even there, I felt a bit unmoored. I even noticed and commented to myself that everything was shades of brown – and not a bird or an animal in sight.

Today, of course, is the Senate run off in Georgia. The stakes in that election are monumental. They literally stand to change the course of our country’s trajectory, and possibly even our future as a country as way we know it. That’s a huge responsibility.

And then, even just sitting at the creek, I became aware of the shenanigans afoot in Pennsylvania’s Senate. Occurring prior to tomorrow’s meeting of both chambers of Congress, I can see that this is just setting the stage for more outrageous behavior that will rip at the core of our democracy. As a Pennsylvanian, I am incensed with the behavior of our Republican led Senate.

Bereft

As I sat writing in my journal at the creek late this afternoon, I felt bereft. I want to have hope, but sometimes I just feel overwhelmed by the cynicism and disinformation being spewed into our discourse. It’s overwhelming and threatens to drown us all.

After expressing myself on my journal’s pages, I decided I needed to get back to the house and take affirmative steps to make things better in my little corner of the world. It felt like the only way forward in that moment.

As I turned my car around to return home, I groused that I felt I alone and definitely unheard. It felt strange that not even a woodpecker or duck, not even a sparrow had crossed my path as I sat beside the Tohickon, listening to her voice.

That’s when the white caught my eye. I stopped the car in the middle of the road, grabbed my phone and got out.

Yes.

The Eagle was sitting on a branch poking out of the water streaming by in a cocoa colored flow. I took a few photos, and switched to video. S/he turned, looked straight at me, and took off, extending its gigantic wings to skim upstream about four feet above the surface of the water. About four ducks freaked out and joined it in flight, acting as startled wingmen.

I felt heard.

Just In Case

I jumped back in the car and resumed my trek home. Not 1,000 feet later, just as I started to cross the bridge that spans my Tohickon, a Red-Tailed Hawk caught my attention, staring at me from a towering sycamore.

Yeah. Just in case I felt unheard – Spirit reached out to reassure me.

“Have faith,” Hawk whispered.

I do.

Red-Tailed Hawk – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-325)

Kiffel Christmas – Day 775

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 4 Comments
Partial Plate of Kiffels – Photo: L. Weikel

Kiffel Christmas

Yuletide 2020 will forever be remembered as Kiffel Christmas. I know, I know. I wrote about my intention to bake kiffels how many days ago? Eleven?

Well, I’m relieved to report that I’ve finally managed to get those babies baked. Today – of all days. And given the length of time it ended up taking me to roll out those little balls, fill them, and bake them, I realize the unconscious wisdom I exercised in saving the endeavor for a day when I basically had no other obligations.

In my defense, I rolled the dough into little balls and had them resting in the refrigerator, contemplating their destiny a good four days or so ago. It was finding the time and dedication to completing the task that took some juggling.

Of course, because I commandeered the oven for this long-slog of a task, we decided to wait a day to roast our yuletide turkey. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to our last wave of turkey sandwiches for the year. We only roast two turkeys a year: one for Thanksgiving and one for Christmas. Hence we only indulge in turkey sandwiches twice a year as well.

Eye Roll

I have to say, I’m rolling my eyes at the fact that I’ve obviously ceded access to my keyboard to my gastric senses. But they’re primal. I’m incredibly grateful for the roof over my head, the heat emanating from our fireplace, and the comfort in my tummy.

I guess I’m especially appreciative of our good fortune right now. I’m acutely aware of the blessing it is to be able to bake kiffels, roast a turkey, and contemplate having enough leftovers to feed ourselves for a week (and even share some, to boot).

My heart goes out to the millions of people who are facing staggering hardships right now. Sickness, hunger, sadness and fear – and perhaps worst of all, the dark jaws of hopelessness. There’s nothing I can say or do or write that will ease their burdens. And it almost feels obscene for me to engage in the banter I do.

Love and Gratitude

But all I know is that the overriding feelings I want to convey today are love and gratitude. Love for the people and opportunities that fill my life. Love for the efforts of so many in my world to make a difference in people’s lives. Love and appreciation for the smiles and kindness I see in the eyes and on the faces of so many, even though I know for a fact their hearts are heavy with burdens.

There’s so much goodness in the world.

We may be pushed in the next several days and weeks especially to buy into the proposition that we can’t trust anyone who doesn’t look like or think exactly the way we do. We may be exhorted to think the worst of everyone we encounter.

It’s in times like these that we need to focus on those smallest of blessing around us. A cookie baked by a neighbor. The warmth of our blankets and the softness of our socks. The kindness and respect shown by people we don’t even know when they stand more than six feet away from us and wear a mask – the twinkle of a smile still visible in their eyes – just because they care about you as much as they care about themselves.

We need to focus on the littlest things right now because they are, in truth, gigantic and life-affirming.

Be well, my friends. Sending you all a virtual kiffel and a hug.

(T-336)