love

Shredding of Tissues – Day Eighty Eight

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Shredding of Tissues            

I can always tell when Spartacus is stressing out. He shreds tissues.

As far as obnoxious dog habits are concerned, I think we won big-time. There is no chewing. No swallowing of articles of clothing. No pooping in the house.

Just a raided bathroom garbage can, with evidence of the purloined contents strewn across their hearthside pillow/bed, with maybe a few extra shreds in a pile in front of the couch.

“Mommy. Where were you?” these strips of Kleenex communicate. “I was worried. I thought you’d never come home again,” they whine.

The difference between dogs and cats never ceases to amaze me.

It’s been written about ad nauseum, so I won’t go there tonight, other than to say I adore the palpable emotional connection I share with my two Boston Terriers.

I love my cats. I cannot imagine living without having at least one or two cats in my household. But dogs truly add a dimension to life that is precious and endearing. Not only do they seem to notice when you’re not around or when your routine changes, they also make their observation abundantly clear.

I wasn’t gone that long this evening, so I was surprised that my absence had engendered a couple piles of shredded anxiety.

Part of the problem is undoubtedly that Karl has been traveling. Another, though, could perhaps be a deeper issue.

I have to wonder if Spartacus can detect the decline in his mother, Sheila’s, health.

Karl and I certainly notice. And we’re worried.

She’s been with us for 15 years and has been the most surprising, delightful addition to our lives that we ever could have imagined. She sets the bar for all our pets – and it’s a darn high one, in spite of her slight stature. (She was the runt of the litter.)

I’m thinking I may need to write about her some more. Maybe tomorrow.

In the meantime, as I consider the prospect of losing her, I feel a need to shred some tissues.

(T-1023)

Groundhog Serenity – Day Eighty Three

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“Groundhog Sunset” – Photo by L. Weikel

Groundhog Serenity

Bet those are two words you never thought you’d see together. Me either.

But in contemplating what I would write about tonight, I thought I would share a photo I took from our porch this evening, minutes after Karl and I got home from a walk.

Suspension in a Cocoon of Serenity

The sun had set on this Groundhog Day 2019, and the colors of the sky were simply too spectacular not to honor them by sharing them with you. What you see is completely unfiltered. And would you believe me if I told you the entire scene was more catch-your-breath exquisite than I can express?

Yeah, you’d probably believe me. I bet it happens to most of us a lot more often than we realize. I hope so, at least.

Nature just is that way. It fills us up and transforms us from within. All we need to do is open our eyes, ears, and every other sensory receptor and allow. It fills us up through our being.

The sky tonight brought me to the verge of tears. For a few moments, when I stood on our porch and I gazed into this magnificent palette, I felt suspended in a cocoon of serenity. The air was crisp and fresh, but not so cold as to rake my sinuses. Two deer ran an obstacle course of trees and bushes at the base of this photo as I took it, their somewhat tentative and graceless dance rustling leaves and breaking sticks as well as the silence.

More Moments of Love

In those sacred moments, I stopped worrying about my mundane concerns. With no one to talk to and no humans or their activity in sight, it was as if I were less a human and more a simple observer – and member – of the web.

Can you look at that photo and not feel it viscerally in your heart?

We need more serenity in our lives. We need more magnificent, rich hues coloring our perceptions. We need more opportunities to forget about our mundane worries and concerns.

At the risk of sounding hokey, we need more love permeating our cells and blanketing our landscapes with colors and beauty and simple appreciation for life, bringing us to the brink of tears.

(T-1028)

“Minutes Before Groundhog Sunset” – Photo by L.Weikel

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)

Tradition and Evolution – Day Forty Four

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Tradition and Evolution

Overall, this Christmas was a grand experiment in shifting from one way of being to another. It felt like we were embarking upon a true transition from ‘the way we’ve always done things’ to ‘a new way.’ Just like any transition, it had its rough patches.

I’d say most of that evolution centered around the family ‘meal,’ which is probably where the vast majority of ‘tradition’ resides in many households.

Most of us in the family eat meat, but rarely. Others of us, however, eat meat never. And then there are those of us who not only don’t eat meat at all, but also do not eat anything even remotely associated with animals. No butter. No milk. No cheese. No eggs. Yes, there’s now a vegan in our midst.

Turkey Sandwiches Remain a Priority

We checked in before the holiday, and determined that turkey was still a hoped-for agenda item with those of us who still appreciate the sacrifices of our feathered brethren. Truth be told, it’s the turkey sandwiches on the horizon that are the real lure here. Piled high with stuffing savory and juicy from cooking in the bird, the turkey slices will nestle between a layer of cranberry sauce and mayonnaise, all held together with a multi-grain, seeded bread. Oooh yeah.

It’s hard not to feel sorry for those who no longer (or never did) enjoy the unparalleled goodness of leftover turkey sandwiches. But alas, that means there’s more for us who pander to our inner Neanderthal. (Which, parenthetically, 23andme tells me is part of my genetic makeup.) (Yeah, it explains a LOT.)

I have to admit, though, in preparing the mashed potatoes both the ‘old’ way and the ‘new,’ the difference would be something I could evolve toward. I’d miss the buttermilk and butter. But it could work.

The green bean casserole without the mushroom soup? Satisfied my vegan but not my vegetarian. I don’t know if I can make that leap yet either.

At Least My Stuffing Is Vegetarian-Approved

My stuffing is vegetarian-approved even when prepared as history dictates. It’s just the portion that cooks inside the bird that’s taboo. So that’s an easy compromise: that especially juicy stuffing can go on my turkey sandwich; thanks.

All, in all, though, I probably could have stepped up my game as far as the ‘protein’ I prepared for my ‘Vs.’ I thought sautéing some vegan sausages with onions and red peppers would make a nice addition to the stuffing, mashed potatoes and green beans, but the expressions on their faces said, “Meh.”

I’ll work on that for next year.

And who knows? As our lives evolve and we witness the cataclysmic results of accelerating climate change day in and day out, it would not be outside the realm of possibility to imagine us going at least totally vegetarian by next year. Probably not vegan; not yet.

Although, I suppose, stranger things have happened.

As a family, we’re game to honor and appreciate our traditions while also exploring ways we can evolve and expand the way we walk forward into the future.

All that really matters is that we do it together.

(T-1067)

Tampering – Day Thirty Five

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Tampering 

Yesterday I described my particular ethical standards when it comes to doing energy work on clients (or anyone for that matter), including activity as seemingly simple as directing my energy or intention ‘toward’ someone with a specific intention, such as ‘prayer.’ Simply put, without the express permission of the intended recipient, I believe engaging in such behavior is ‘tampering.’

Quite honestly? I look around nowadays and I listen to what is said and done in the name of Gods, Sons of Gods, other people’s Higher Powers, and all sorts of belief systems (and non-belief systems), and I am appalled at how so many people inflict their beliefs and their judgments about what is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ or ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ happen in certain situations on other people all the time.

I distinctly remember the first time I encountered and saw first hand the actual harm this could do to a person without them even realizing it. This was many years ago and a friend of mine had suffered an extensive and life-threatening brain injury. His loved ones sent out a blanket request  for prayers, Reiki, distance-healing modalities of any and all kinds to be ‘sent’ to my friend as he lay prone in his hospital bed.

As it happened, I’d been receiving specific healing training and had been working on establishing a working relationship with Spirit and my allies for a couple of years, but was essentially using my knowledge for my own personal growth and understanding. (Never did I ever, at that point, envision myself doing what I do now.)

But even in my earliest days of metaphysical education some 15 years earlier (about 35 years ago now), I had been schooled in the tenet that directing energy toward or on behalf of someone without their express permission is a form of tampering, and therefore an abuse of power.

I was surprised when my friend requested that I come to the hospital Intensive Care Unit to see him; and I was even more surprised when the staff seemed to just assume that I was supposed to be there. No one questioned me. They looked me in the eye, they smiled, and they allowed me to simply ‘be’ in his room with him. Because of the nature and severity of his injury, he was barely conscious; slipping in and out of awareness, which made the fact that he’d literally said my name to his partner and asked for me to come to his bedside even harder to comprehend.

Opening Sacred Space

But I did. And I had no idea what I ‘should’ do or how I could be of assistance. So I stood at his bedside, and when he opened his eyes, said I was there and asked if I could open Sacred Space around him. I saw a glimmer in his eyes and the slightest nod, so I did so. Quietly. Discreetly. And I sat with him and just held space. I did not ‘pray’ or even hope for any particular outcome (and the prognosis at that time was very dismal – even if he survived, his quality of life might be horribly compromised).

After about 90 minutes (an eternity in an ICU – and another small blessing), I left – advising my friend that I was going to leave Sacred Space ‘open’ around him, so he would feel safe, loved, and protected.

Later that evening and for a few days after that, I noticed and heard about the continued cascade of prayers and assorted healing energies bombarding my friend. Almost all that he survive, that he pull through, etc. I wanted to scream.

The day after I opened Sacred Space around him, I was told that the doctors were astonished by his improvement, and he was moved to a Critical Care unit. About five days later, he asked for me again, so I went.

Installing Protection

He was in worse shape, to my eyes, when I saw him that day. (Again, though, I was almost welcomed by the staff – and definitely afforded privacy and respect. It was weird.) He seemed to be writhing in pain, and I was a bit freaked out that no one seemed to be noticing or doing anything for him.

I’d been taught a form of protection I could ‘install’ into a person’s energy field that would protect them from the unconsciousness of others (even if well-meaning). And as I sat by his bedside, I brought this up. As I did so, I delicately asked if he knew that he was very loved and basically a bazillion people were ‘sending’ him all sorts of prayers and energy and stuff at the request of his partner. He nodded. I asked if maybe he was feeling bombarded by it all; and that maybe even some of it was interfering with his own soul’s intentions or desires – or making it hard for him to know how and whether to heal. He nodded.

I asked if he would like me to install this protection. He nodded.

So I did. And before my eyes, it was like night and day. He settled down, the appearance of bombardment seemed to lessen dramatically, and within minutes, he fell asleep.

I – was – astounded.

He continued to flourish and healed better and faster than his emergency surgeons could have hoped.

Understand this: I do not claim to have had any impact in this situation other than, at most, providing a calming influence. But he and I both realized the immediate response that he felt when I installed (with his permission) a barrier between him and all of the varied intentions of a myriad of people, many of whom undoubtedly were invoking requests for very specific outcomes.

My point? It very well could have been his time to make his transition. It may have been his soul’s intention to experience life with substantial residual disabilities. And it may have been his soul’s intention to experience a remarkable – almost magical – recovery. Whatever…it was his choice.

This went way too long. But I hope it gives you some idea of why we need to just. send. love.

Anything else would be tampering.

(T-1076)

Day Thirteen (T-1098)

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Sheila – the loved and literal Mommy Dog – Photo: L. Weikel

 

Mommydog 

I saw this video (click on the title, above) about a week ago, when my friend, Beth, posted it on FB. The video (which I love, and can’t get out of my head) is performed by her son, Asher Roth.

I’ve known Beth for about eight years now. Maybe nine.

In December, 2010, my son Karl and I drove cross-country from California back to Pennsylvania. Some of the encounters we had along the way may provide fodder for future posts, but not tonight.

My point in bringing that trek up is to give context to the fact that I gave Karl an astrological-and-tarot reading with Beth that month. He was just completing his ‘Saturn return’ (an occurrence we all experience every 28-30 years, which I’ll definitely write about soon) and he allowed me to sit in on the reading with him, which was fascinating.

Transits and Challenges

This was the first time he’d been home in at least a year, I believe, and it had been a tough one. I’m so glad he and Beth let me sit in, because I took notes during the reading – which I’d forgotten and only just rediscovered recently. This discovery proved particularly fortuitous, since Beth had long since deleted her recording of the reading when he lost his life eleven months later.

The tale told by the position of the stars at his birth and the transits that were bringing challenges and adventures for him to experience that next year (2011) were eerily remarkable, particularly in hindsight.

But I digress.

During that ‘reading,’ and many, many times since then, Beth has remarked how much Karl reminded her of her son, Asher. The creativity, the affection, the sense of humor, the depth. The talent.

When I watched and listened to Asher’s song last week, I knew I would post it today, because we held Karl’s Gathering in honor of his life on the Saturday following Thanksgiving Day 2011. So on this Saturday following Thanksgiving Day 2018, with the recent release of this heart-expanding and yet heart-rending video, I knew I wanted to post this in honor of all the sons out there like Asher. And Karl. Sons who venture out into the world to do their thing, make their mark, and create something unique to their hearts – yet ultimately realize the depth of their roots and what really matters.

What Really Matters

I have to admit, the first time I watched this I tried to maintain an emotional distance. I tried to pretend it wouldn’t touch me, even though I knew simply from the title that it would. I tried not to feel how much I wished I could feel the arms of Karl around me once again.

But the second time? Not a chance. I couldn’t not feel tears welling up in my eyes and a sob catching in my throat. There is such a beauty to this video. Such a reflection of love of family, of appreciation for what is truly valuable and meaningful…

There is such a reflection, to me, of what I had with Karl and what I’m lucky enough to have with my two other sons (and their father). And the two amazing young women I now consider daughters.

Family. Love. Roots.

This video is amazing and makes it almost possible for me to imagine Karl creating it for me.

Thank you, Asher.