hugs

Weird Week – Day 886

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Exquisite Spring Day – Photo: L. Weikel

Weird Week

This has been such a weird week already – and it’s not even Friday yet. (Well, it will be by the time this is read; but you get my drift.) And I have a feeling the weirdness isn’t done with us yet.

There’s been a dramatic acceleration of activity in many spheres. Notice I didn’t say a dramatic acceleration of movement or forward momentum. No. There’s just been a lot of activity – some of it constructive, some of it obstructive. And some of it just downright maddening and perplexing. Even a lot of spinning in place, one might say.

It’s hard to describe the shock I feel, in some ways, of dealing with so many people all at once in the span of four days. It makes me realize just how profoundly my baseline sense of ‘normal’ has changed in the past year.

I’ve literally engaged with people face-to-face (masked where appropriate, socially distanced in every instance) every single day this week. Tomorrow I have the opportunity and responsibility to engage further with more people and I’m simply agog at the thought.

Don’t Get Me Wrong

I’m not complaining. I’m observing. I always knew I was an introvert; that’s what’s actually made navigating the pandemic this past year relatively pleasant and comforting. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have space. I have direct access to innumerable expressions of Mother Nature and the ability to take a walk and enjoy them without a lingering fear in the back of my mind that I might not make it back to my house alive.

Yes, I’ve missed giving people hugs. Funnily enough, I think I’ve discovered that the circumstances in which I miss the gift of hugging most acutely are those that involve people who I would not ordinarily hug, but who I sense need them the most. What I mean by that is, yes, I miss giving my kids and my dear friends hugs. But I exquisitely miss the comfort and care that I sometimes feel can only be conveyed in a hug that transcends all words.

And the wordless expression of transcendent love and compassion are sometimes the precise and only gift that’s worth giving.

Buffeted

I find myself buffeted by the extremes of our existence. The yearning desire so many have to receive the vaccine that will protect them from catching a deadly disease – to the point that they burst into tears when they receive their inoculation(s). And then witnessing the casual indifference to the snuffing out of the lives of Black people by those we wish could be trusted to protect us – all of us – regardless of our skin color. As a mother – as a human – I just cannot fathom the relentless injustice and the disregard, time after time after time, for the preciousness of these lives.

I groused last night about feeling the effects of tree pollen. At least, that’s what I think was afflicting me last night. And yet…I stopped in my tracks when I looked at the exquisite beauty of the trees and clouds and grass I found myself driving past this afternoon. I almost drove right past this stunning hug from Mother Earth herself.

I’m glad I stopped in the middle of where I was driving and tried to capture the essence that overwhelmed me in that moment. It was a wordless moment of unconditional love and compassion. She was giving to me what I yearn to give to others.

More goldfinches amongst magnolia blossoms – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-225)

Disconnected – Day 517

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Photo: L. Weikel

Disconnected

I’m feeling a bit disconnected from Easter this year. I don’t like admitting that, even if it’s normal and to be expected under the circumstances. It feels almost sacrilegious, or like a betrayal of myself.

Why such a harsh indictment of my feelings?

Partly, I suspect, because I was born on Easter Sunday. So for me to feel disconnected from Easter, which has always been one of my favorite holidays (especially since I have a unique and quite intimate relationship with The Rabbit), it’s a sign that things are not right with the world.

Easter represents a lot of my favorite concepts: rebirth, springtime, fresh starts, growth, new life, starting over, sunshine, baby animals, hope, optimism. OK. Just creating that list made me smile a little more and remember my roots. I love this time of year.

No Easter Eggs

Karl and I didn’t color eggs this year. It’s only the two of us here at home, as I suspect is true with a lot of you. It’s kind of weird to think that you shouldn’t even have an Easter egg hunt with your own grandkids or whatever (if they don’t live with you), since, technically, the virus could be spread between people simply by touching the eggs. And good grief, the last thing anyone wants is to sicken a loved one.

It’s the little things, isn’t it? Losing our ability to connect with small gestures. To reach out and touch someone’s arm or give a quick hug. To hide an Easter egg and not feel as though you’re potentially hiding a live grenade?

A Meandering Post

I fear my post this evening has been an exercise akin to hopping down the bunny trail – sort of zig zagging from one subject to another without any apparent coherence.

As sad as any of you feel, too, because you can’t engage in those huge little gestures of love and connection, the solace we can take is in how much more we will appreciate them when we can once again reclaim those means of expression. Perhaps lots of people will realize they no longer want to be as disconnected as they used to crave being.

Who knows? Possibly those of us who are huggers will no longer feel ashamed for being who we are, for our ability to convey with a silent connection, heart-to-heart, more than a million words could ever say.

I am one of those. And I am sending each and every one of you a hug and a smile. A hug to say, “Hang in there. We can do this. We’re only physically distancing, not emotionally or spiritually distancing.” And a smile to say, “I love you.”

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-594)

A Smidge of Hope – Day 290

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Smidge of a Rainbow – Photo: L. Weikel

A Smidge of Hope

We all know it’s the little things. It’s the little things that push us over the edge. It’s the little things that can trigger road rage and make us go from pleasant to demented in two seconds flat.

It’s the little things that make life worth living.

It’s the little things, sometimes, that serve to bring a smile to our face just in time to shift whatever barometer we have within us to perceiving life as reflecting a rainbow rather than embodying a fogbank or a massive cloudburst.

There’s a big difference between those three ‘weather events’ and how they impact us (especially if we’re taking a walk when experiencing them). And sometimes it’s hard to perceive whether we’re impacting the weather or it’s impacting us. Are we the chicken? Or are we the egg?

Yikes. I’m all over the place tonight.

It’s stemming at least partly from the photo I want to ‘feature’ tonight (which I’d hoped to post last night, but we all know how well that went).

A Smidge of a Rainbow

I took tonight’s photo (above) last night as Karl and I traversed the ‘walkabout’ with Spartacus and Sheila  (The ‘walkabout’ is the ~4 mile route we routinely take, as opposed to the ‘walk-around,’ which is 2.1 miles.)

I was tired when we walked last night. And feeling some uneasiness over the state of the world. (Oh wow, how ridiculous is that? ‘Some uneasiness?’ The banality of that statement is laughable.) But it’s true. Karl and I were both just sort of skating along on the surface. We even commented on how sort of ‘stuck in neutral’ we’re both feeling  – paying attention to what’s going on in the world but trying our best not to get ‘hooked’ into any of it.

That’s hard.

We made a point of not digging too deeply into the specifics. We kept changing the subject, because we knew how easily we could become mired in misery.

I’m not going to recite what was (and is) going on ‘out there.’ Most of you, I suspect (with a few notable exceptions – and you know who you are!) are committed to remaining informed and many of you are activists, or you at least try to make a difference where you can. So whether our awareness of the current atrocities and outrages being visited upon our fellow Earth brothers and sisters (and Mother Earth herself) is conscious or not, we’re still picking up on the overall energy ‘out there.’ And it’s devolving.

As a result, as our mothers taught us, if we can’t say anything nice, we don’t say anything at all. Unsurprisingly, then, a good portion of our walks lately have been in silence.

Prickly Beauty of Thistle – Photo: L. Weikel

A Smidge of Love

So imagine my delight when I looked up at the sky – with no (truly, zero) expectation of seeing anything out of the ordinary – and caught sight of that smidgen of a rainbow.

It felt like an unexpected hug. No, it wasn’t some two page spread of a Technicolor spectacle. But neither was it a mere ‘rainbow dog.’ (And let me be clear: I’m not disparaging rainbow dogs. But you have to admit, they’re usually quite tiny.) It was real; it was unexpected; and it was a ray of hope. It made me smile, inside and out. It shifted my energy and kicked my perspective up a notch or two.

So of course, what was the first thing out of my mouth when I saw it? “I need to try to capture that!” I declared. “I want to share it tonight.”

We need each other. We need to give – and be – smidgens of rainbows for each other: Sharing unexpected smiles. Knowing, compassionate glances. Generous laughter.

Quick hugs, too – even if it’s just with our eyes or our words. Because it’s important, especially now, to know in our bones that we’re not alone, and that love will prevail.

(T-821)