Lest I Forget – Day 338

My DMV Number – Photo: L. Weikel

Lest I Forget

Lest I forget why I’m sitting here at 11:29 p.m., scanning my experiences of the day to come up with something at least remotely interesting to write about, I need only glance at a photo I took this afternoon while sitting in the Dublin office of the PA Department of Motor Vehicles.

Karl, my son, has an unerring ability to hone right into my consciousness to plant a flag when I need it most.

1111 Devotion

The reason I’m sitting here on my overstuffed couch, doing my best to pull myself back from the brink of imminent sleep instead of tucking myself into a cuddle sandwich between Karl and Spartacus, is my son. I’m awake and trying to write something at least half coherent for you to read because I made a commitment. I accepted an internal challenge to engage in an Act of Power. I made the decision to engage in my 1111 Devotion.

And so it is that a photo on my iPhone once again saves the day. It brings me back, front and center, to precisely why I am sitting here listening to a screech owl wail its plaintive cry just outside our door instead of falling asleep.

It brings me back to the magic of life and the utter amazingness of what some might call coincidence and I might call communication.

Real ID

I recently received my reissued social security card in the mail. I’d had to go to the Social Security office some weeks ago to request a new one because producing your social security card is a non-negotiable requirement, among others, to securing a ‘Real ID.’ Apparently my regular Pennsylvania driver’s license will no longer be valid ID enabling me to, among other things, board a plane for a domestic flight as of 2020.

All afternoon, I kept thinking to myself that I needed to get over to the Licensing Center to take care of business. In my excitement to have received my new s.s. card, I forgot to bring my passport with me. So I had to drive all the way back home, retrieve that, and return yet again to the PennDoT.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked at my ticket upon signing in: ‘I111.’ I had to smile. Karl had been very present all weekend, with all of us convening here for the weekend. Each of us at various times brought him up and remarked how ‘close’ and almost tangible he felt this past weekend.

Here he was. Announcing his presence.

To Mention or Not to Mention

When my number was called, I approached the counter and was greeted by a young woman with a big smile and open, friendly manner. I’d tucked my ticket away in my wallet, and when I did so, briefly considered whether I would mention the significance of the randomly assigned number. “Nah,” I thought. “Too random and wooey for the DMV.”

So I took a double take when I heard my staff person laughingly say to her colleague in the next cubicle, “4:27! That’s my birthday!” (To be clear, she was referring to the fact that it was 4:27 p.m.)

At that moment, I realized not only that she was a kindred spirit in her own right, but that she also would totally appreciate the number of my ticket and its relevance to my life. So when I stood before her and she confirmed my ticket number, I was not surprised when she immediately exclaimed at how the capital ‘I’ looked like a one, thus creating an 1111.

Yes, she brought it up first. So I listened to the nudge.

Sharing the Magic

I rolled with her awareness of the ticket looking like it was 1111 and told her why that number has particular significance to me. Instead of having her look at me askance or judging me as being a woo-ey crystal wearing tree hugger (guilty as charged), we had an amazing discussion that touched upon loss, death, numerology, and a couple other fascinating topics.

Indeed, she relayed a story about a colleague of hers who retired only last year, who lost her 30-something son to a hit and run accident. Sudden. Horrific. Tragic. Just that day, she’d spoken to her friend and found herself worrying about how depressed her friend sounded.

When I mentioned that having the ‘1111’ show up today was my son’s way of connecting with me, she told me a lovely story about how her friend has eschewed the concept of going to a medium or psychic. It’s just not something she has any desire to do. Yet she had been feeling very unsettled over her son’s death – and felt like maybe he wasn’t at peace.

Well, apparently a friend of hers went to some kind of an event – or maybe it was even a private session, I’m not sure – and this woman’s son very clearly came through and gave the friend a message, which he asked her to relay back to his mother.

My DMV friend could barely contain her delight at the shift and comfort she’d witnessed her friend experience as a result of this communication.

They Find a Way

When my new friend commented on how surprised she was that her friend still had no desire to go to a medium herself, I couldn’t help but point out that perhaps there was no need. She’d been encouraged to see a medium to allay her worries and help her with her grief, but she’d refused. Her son, knowing that she needed to hear from him, very cleverly arranged to get his message through to her via her friend – who was open to going to a medium.

He knew she needed to hear from him and he found a way.

Love finds a way. And if Karl hadn’t reached out, sent me love, and rippled my awareness today, I would never have heard this story and had such a heartfelt conversation. At the DMV.

Lest I forget why I do what I do (wink).

(T-773)

Final Messengers – Day 299

Hawk giving me the stink-eye – Photo: L. Weikel

Final Messengers

Capping the remarkable range of creatures crossing my path this week, I was astonished when a massive Red-tailed Hawk rather unceremoniously landed in the top portion of a shag-bark hickory tree yards from where I was sitting this morning. I’d built another fire (because I could, I guess – and because the air was getting chillier and moister by the moment), so it was even more surprising to me that the hawk chose to land in a tree so close to me.

It seemed as though it had landed near me in order to deliberately get my attention. Mission accomplished! And as soon as I welcomed its arrival in my personal psychic space, it leapt off its branch and proceeded to fly in circles directly over my head. After the sixth full circular pass overhead, the raptor veered back into the currents above the creek itself and flew downstream.

Journaling – Pays Off Yet Again

I’m sure you’ll find it unsurprising that the hawk arrived just after I’d made some rather astonishing connections in my journal. I was literally ‘connecting the messages’ brought to me all week via both the Medicine Cards I’d chosen each day and the actual creatures crossing my path. It wasn’t until this morning and my careful reiteration of all the various connections that I realized the orchestration and choreography that had to have been deployed in order to make the messages make sense to each other.

I didn’t get a photo of this particular bird, but I am happy to share a photo of another hawk that crossed my path some months ago.

Yes, Hawk has been tapping at the window pane of my life for many months now. And if you ask him, he’d say it’s been a long hard slog to get me to pay attention to him again.

Spirit

Finally, as I was moments away from leaving my sanctuary and in the midst of closing Sacred Space, I reached the final ‘Direction’ I address, which is ‘Above.’ This is where I greet and give thanks to Spirit and all the representations and emissaries of Spirit that are associated with ‘Above,’ such as Grandmother Moon, Father Sun, the Great Star Nations, God, Goddess, All That Is, Great Spirit, Ascended Masters, etc.

As I was specifically thanking Spirit for helping ‘connect the dots’ for me and illuminating the meaning behind the pattern of messages I’d received all week, I looked up and could barely believe my eyes. The very moment I expressly gave thanks for providing me with such clear messengers and messages, two eagles appeared in the sky visible through a clearing in the tree canopy. Two eagles danced together, circled a few moments, and were gone.

Unlike all the other days I’ve written about this week, I did not even try to get photos of these profound messengers. Instead, I simply, consciously, and reverently took in the totality of the experience.

Convergence of Earlier Encounters

While I don’t have photos of the winged ones who visited me today, I do have photos of a couple who visited me back in the springtime.

Indeed, the stories of those encounters (which took place on exactly the same day in two separate locations) remain to be shared. While I knew the direct experiences were utterly profound in the moments I had them, I also felt the time was not yet right to relay the stories and their significance. That time is drawing nearer.

In the meantime, though, and in honor of their capstone appearances today, I share a couple of my best photos from our April contacts.

I could not have asked for more direct, immediate communication and support. I am filled with gratitude.

Eagle giving me the stink-eye from afar – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-812)

Change is Afoot – Day 212

Wishes Bursting Forth – Photo: L. Weikel

Change is Afoot

For months, I’ve been receiving messages that it was time for me to make some changes to my “work” in the world.

Some of the pushes have centered on what and where I should be focusing most of my attention, at least in the ‘now.’ Many of the shoves have been to increase my hourly rate for the healing work I facilitate. And a fairly significant number of nudges have come for me to expand opportunities for others to work with me.

On the one hand, I’ve done my best to listen to at least most of these messages.

For instance, I’ve expanded my legal expertise by training to serve as a “Parenting Coordinator,” which is a new role established by local rules in Courts in Pennsylvania. I’ll explain about that another day.

I’ve also been spending more time than I was (which, admittedly, wasn’t any at all) on my next manuscript. The drumbeat on that score continues to grow louder, for I’m still barely devoting any significant time to this task. You might wonder, “What’s the big deal? Just sit down and write it.” And I would agree with you. What is the darn deal?

Immersion

The ‘deal,’ I suppose, is my need for immersion. The books I write are memoir. They require me not only to write about a time and set of circumstances I’ve lived, but also require me – if I’m going to capture those times and circumstances as accurately as possible – to immerse myself in the totality of that time of my life.

I’m not good at skimming the surface. I don’t ‘do’ superficiality well, no matter where it might try to intrude in my life. I’m not one for small talk. I’m not a good pretender. I’m either ‘all in’ or I’m not in. And that goes for my writing, and my writing process, as well.

So when I’m working on my manuscript and basically writing from a place of ‘where my head was’ and ‘how I felt’ back then, it is like riding an old fashioned tilt-a-whirl to go back and forth from ‘that’ life to ‘this’ one. I get jerked back and forth from one reality to another. Karl can probably attest to this best, as he can tell when I’ve been working on my manuscript. Out of the blue, sometimes, I’ll snap at him and dredge up something that’s long been over. He’ll look at me with astonishment and, having been in it and reliving it all day, writing about it and remembering our conversations, I’ll be like, “What? Don’t you remember? Did you really do that?”

Ha – great fun. Not.

It’s fresh for me, when I’m writing about it. It’s long gone down Karl’s memory hole, for him, though. So going back and forth is hard. And I resist it. Which leads to procrastination. For years. Hence, I need to give myself permission to just be in it, and with it, and give it the chunk of time I need.

I’m hearing that message. Really.

But on the other hand, there’s the elephant in the room: my hourly rate.

Photo: audubon.org

Elephant = Time + Intensity + Hourly Rate

I’ve been offering shamanic work to the public for 15 years. In that time, I’ve not raised my hourly rate even once (once I started charging at all). For the first two years, I offered my work for free. Then I started charging my current rate: $110/hour.

Because my sessions are unique, they often last an average of 4 to 6 hours – and because that’s an average, yes, some sessions go even longer.

By the same token, because my sessions are unique, when a person comes to me with an issue (or mainly, just a ‘knowing’ that something is awry and needs to be addressed) we stick with it until we get to the root of it. I listen – and help my client listen to their own self – until we get a sense of how their life has woven together the unique picture, circumstances, and – often – wounds that brought them to my door. And then we – but mostly Spirit and their own soul – work together to heal what we’ve discovered.

A Session Is Usually a One-Time Deal

It is rare that a client comes back with the same issue. This work is profound and very often life changing. Almost always, clients feel as though they’re starting an entirely new chapter in their life after a session.

After the session, I write a comprehensive follow-up email that describes what happened during the shamanic/energetic portion of the session. (That’s the part during which the client simply lays down, sets their intention, and let’s the good stuff happen.) It usually takes me 2.5 hours to write it all down, because – as I mentioned above – I don’t ‘do’ superficial. Yes, I’ve managed to take notes while doing the shamanic work. But often I have to get myself back into the ‘place’ I went in order to fully flesh out the notes I took. I need to once again immerse myself in the energy of the session.

Follow-Up Emails are Precious

I’ve found, especially lately (perhaps because I’ve seen and heard from some people recently who were my earlier clients), that those follow up emails hold more information in them than I could’ve realized at the time I wrote them. That’s because things that might not have made total sense (or even a little sense) at the time – to either me or my client – have come to have startling significance upon being re-read years later. So these emails are precious.

And I never charge for the hours I spend the next day, writing them.

My Rates are Going Up

And so it is that I am finally heeding the pokes and prods I’ve received for well over a year, with increasing frequency lately. I am increasing my hourly rate to $350/hour, effective June 30th, 2019.

I realize that this is significant. I realize it may feel daunting. But I also know the shifts I’ve seen in people’s lives; the transformations people have chosen to embrace. And I know the toll it takes on me to provide this work in the deep, precise, and loving manner I do.

Out of My Comfort Zone

Raising my rates drags me out of my comfort zone. So don’t be fooled – this is not a decision I’ve made lightly. In fact, there’s a whole story that goes with how I was doubting myself right up until this morning when Spirit literally plucked a card from my Medicine Card deck as I was shuffling (and asking for guidance one last time on whether I really should follow through with this rate increase) and plopped it into the birdbath I was standing beside.

I’ll write about that tomorrow, though.

(Oh – and remind me to tell you about the new opportunity to work with me one-on-one!)

 

(T-899)

What’s It Going to Take? – Day 161

Easter Sky, 21 April 2019 –  Photo: L. Weikel

Change is in the Air

Just look at that photo.

That’s a reflection of what I’m feeling inside, this Easter Day.

I can’t say I’m feeling ‘blue skies.’ Or ‘sunshine.’ But I can’t say I’m feeling ‘foggy,’ either, nor would I characterize my internal meteorological state as ‘blue,’ ‘miserable,’ or even ‘torpid.’

If pushed, I’d probably suggest ‘glorious,’ ‘volatile,’ turbulent’ and most definitely ‘changeable.’ Certainly ripe for transformation.

I’m ready. Ready to shake things up. Break out of my rut. Stop being so conventional.

Sensing Karl’s Presence

A few weeks ago, I was feeling the distinct sense that Karl was ‘around.’ Truth be told, his presence had receded to a great extent over the past two years or so. He was much more communicative (in his way) the first five years following his death.

While sad that the messages weren’t coming through to me anywhere near as often, I’ve also felt deeply at peace with it. In fact, I’ve actively refrained from reaching out to him; I want him to be moving on, continuing on his evolutionary path, doing whatever he was called to do ‘next.’ I certainly did not want to be responsible for tethering him in any way to this reality.

So imagine my surprise when he actually arranged for me to either meet in person or have a conversation with three different people (none of whom know each other, one of whom I’d never met before, a second I’ve not seen in person for at least 8 years and only spoken to sporadically, and the third I’d only met twice in my life, the last time being five years ago) all within the span of three weeks.

Three Unexpected – and Unrelated – Messengers

I should note that I did not know any of these women as people who actively communicate with beings on the other side of the veil.

Yet, in each of those conversations, none of which had anything to do with Karl, he ‘broke through’ and made himself and his presence known.

And each one of them gave me essentially the same message, which was Karl provocatively asking, “Mom, what’s it going to take? It’s time.”

Each instance, naturally, has been stunning. Astounding. Completely and totally unexpected. And as each encounter followed the other, the urgency of the core message became harder to escape or dismiss.

The invitation, his hand, is extended. I need only accept.

“There’s work to be done.”

Beam of Light (Breakthrough?), Easter 2019 – Photo: L.Weikel

(T-950)

Getting Psyched for the New Moon – Day 143

Tohickon Creek 3 April 2019 – Photo: L. Weikel

Getting Psyched for the New Moon          

The moon will be ‘new’ at 4:50 a.m., EDT, on Friday, April 5th . When a new moon occurs, as I’ve mentioned before, it’s a perfect time to launch a new project, set intentions, or implement changes you’ve wanted to make in your life, etc.

The new moon that will occur on Friday will be especially powerful with respect to moving forward into something new and powerful because it will be in Aries, the first sign of the zodiac, symbolized by the ram. This will be the first new moon since the spring equinox – so there are just heaps and heaps of initiating energy bursting forth at this new moon.

What Seeds Do You Want to Sow?

I’m mentioning all of this now so you might actually give yourself a day and evening to seriously contemplate what new seeds you would like to plant in your life, now that we have the first full quarter of 2019 under our belts. Surely you want to take all of the energy associated with this new moon and ‘carpe diem.’ Take into account all of the life and circumstance review and reflection you engaged in over the past three weeks while Mercury was retrograde.

Personally, I had a day today that held so much magic in it, I have to admit that I am still contemplating what happened and deciphering the precise message(s) I received. Amazingly, most of the exact same messengers who showed up in my life throughout March made unexpected guest appearances today. And they were accompanied by truly some of the most spectacular winged messengers that I’ve ever encountered.

I will elaborate more as the days unfold.

Prairie Dog (Rx) / Dragonfly

In the meantime, I just want to let you know that I chose Prairie Dog reversed today with Dragonfly underneath. And the mood I was in when I chose these cards was, shall we say…dark. Indeed, I was so distraught within my own self that I could barely read our chosen cards out loud today without bursting into tears.

I am not one to cry easily.

I managed to keep it together, though – at least initially – getting the dishes done from the night before and then heading to the creek, my Tohickon, my life-long refuge when existence gets too hard to handle.

I parked in my favorite spot, put down my car’s window, and sat about four feet from the bank, the water rushing past on its way to merging with the Delaware (Lenape Sipu). After surrendering to my mood, shifting my gaze into neutral, and allowing myself to be bathed in the sound of Mama Tohickon’s voice, I started writing out my fears.

A Duck That Wanted to Play

My first visitor. Photo: L. Weikel

Within the time it took to write a paragraph, the first visitor arrived.  A beautiful duck that chose to just drift along following the current – then shot the rapids. Mind you, the ‘rapids’ might not be perceived as such by you or me – but for a duck that size? They were a wild ride. So much so – and so apparently much fun – that when it shortly flew back upstream, I wondered if it would drift by once more and ‘shoot’ them again.

He did, and he did.

But that was just the warm-up act. Oh. My. Goodness.

I’ll save the rest of that tale for tomorrow. As I said to Karl on our walk this evening, this was one of the single most magical days I’ve ever experienced. And trust me: that’s saying a lot.

The ‘rapids’ he shot. Photo: L. Weikel

Spirit Heard My Call and Held Me

As for my Prairie Dog reversed? I made a point of stepping back from all the tasks I had written in my Day-Timer that I wanted to accomplish today. I needed to retreat from the world before I created an illness that would ‘take me out.’ I needed to listen– and ultimately, I needed to be shown the illusion (Dragonfly).

I needed guidance. I needed perspective. I needed hope.

I received all of that and more. More than I had a right to even hope for, much less expect (but am oh-so-grateful to have received).

In my photos, you have to look closely to see my rapids-shooting duck, because all I had was my iPhone. I did manage to video him shooting the rapids – but it’s a video –  and I’ve yet to figure out how to upload that somewhere where I can put a link to it here in the blog. (Oh technology, you foul temptress.)

I’ll try to identify him. Just not tonight.

Don’t forget to mull over your intentions for the new moon arriving Friday morning…

(T-968)

Not a Power Post – Day 131

Sleeping Beauties – Photo: L.Weikel

Not a Power Post

OK, I’ll admit it. I am super tired.

I ended up squeezing in about 2.5 hours of sleep last night. Got my beloved to the airport in jig time (only to have his flight delayed for four hours, including having to switch planes). Yikes!  His delay, however, did not provide any respite for me – and as a result, I have not stopped moving forward, either working or meeting with people, since then.

And that includes right up to this very moment, since until I started writing this post, I was trying to get a follow up to my client written while it was still fresh in my mind.

A Nagging Thought

While I was doing that, I felt this nagging sense at the back of my mind – as if I should be doing something else. And then it dawned on me: I have to get this written early tonight! I won’t be here at my usual ‘muse-time!’

Needless to say, while I would not characterize writing this post as ‘work,’ I would emphasize that my 1111 Devotion is an Act of Power, as well as a visible expression of my love for and memory of Karl. So, it’s beyond ‘work.’ It’s ‘love’ – making the writing of it all the more non-negotiable.

Sacred Space Shifts Everything

I did have an amazing session, though. What a gift it is to do shamanic work. And what’s really cool for me to have experienced first hand (yet again) is how creating Sacred Space shifts everything.

Yes, I was tired. But once Sacred Space was opened, I forgot all about myself. Indeed, the room was filled with such a sense of excitement and anticipation for the breakthrough that eventually occurred that I did not even once think about anything other than the person I was with and the confluence of events that brought them to work with me in that moment.

All of which makes me think about the series of truly astounding experiences I’ve had (and messages I’ve received) over the past 10 days or so. I want to share them with you, but I know I must digest them first within my own self.

I’m hoping I will get some time this weekend to do just that.

Agenda: Baking and Reflecting

Ah yes, I seek time to reflect upon my recent experiences and give myself the space and freedom to chart where they may be leading me next. Other than baking the walnut torte (a/k/a “Aunt Grace’s Cake”) I promised my son I’d make this weekend, I want to point the Eye of Sauron on myself.

(Hey, I know how some people, mostly my own family members, feel when I give them the look and demand they really dig into their feelings, motivations, fears, and aspirations. It’s only fair I direct that no-bullshit gaze on myself occasionally.)

So there you have it, my agenda for this first weekend of spring: Me time.

Needless to say, this will only happen if I get a long, delicious night’s sleep. That’s also in the plan.

(T-980)

Onion Snows and Messages – Day 121

 

Onion Snows and Messages          

I’m ready for spring.

Yeah, I know. Join the crowd, Lisa.

We’ve not even had a hard winter (in my opinion), and yet I’m ready for the curtain to be lowered on it. In fact, I think we got off pretty easily this year. Yeah, we may have one more good snowstorm (and when I say ‘good’ I mean really good – like over a foot of snow at least). But even if we do get a couple more snowstorms before our patience is rewarded with an abundance of colors and sounds, buzzes and buds, they’ll probably just be ‘onion’ snows.

That makes me smile. Do people even use that term anymore? Obviously, it was coined to describe one of those snowstorms in late March through mid April that might leave a couple of inches on the ground, but which melts by mid-day. It’s called an ‘onion’ snow because it serves as an insulating blanket and then watering system for one of the earliest crops of the season: onions.

Wow.

From Onion Snows to Car Stories

You can tell I don’t feel like talking about ponderous topics tonight. Ha – I’m so transparent! I can’t hide anything from you guys.

I do have another car story for you, but I’m not going to tell it tonight. My Prius employed creative license and a rather impressive dramatic flair yesterday to bring home an admonition I’ve received recently from a variety of messengers. I mean: you can’t make this stuff up.

But I need to give it a few days to settle in before I write about it.

Perhaps I’m feeling a need to formally acknowledge receipt of the message before I go talking about it? I’m not sure.

Some Obvious Messages and Some Painful Ones

I actually feel like I’ve been bombarded with messages lately. Some have been obvious. Some have been painful and potentially life-path changing. Given what unfolded yesterday, I’m guessing that Spirit was assuming I wasn’t listening. And truth be told, maybe I was blowing them off.

It can be distressing to have Spirit ‘call you on your shit.’

Which makes me wonder why it’s sometimes so hard to do what we know we should do; need to do; must do. It’s especially vexing when the thing we’re being told we should do, need to do, must do is something we yearn to do.

What’s With the Desire for Comfort?

That tells me that it must be more comfortable to be in a somewhat dark place, hunkering down fearfully, worried about the implications of what might happen if we listen to the messages, than it is to just burst up out of the darkness and do something different.

Perhaps it is comfortable. Yeah, I can see that maintaining the status quo can produce a rut that’s familiar, if nothing else. Perhaps not snuggly comfortable, but known.

Onion Snow? Or Avalanche.

Yet I yearn to listen, to poke through my resistance like the first green blades of crocus and daffodil leaves that revealed themselves today from under the crusted, dirty snow of last week. But I don’t know if I can do it.

I was all psyched Sunday night. I saw what I’d unwittingly achieved for liberation of my own awareness, and I could taste the possibility of implementing some of the messages I’ve been receiving (from inner and outer messengers). And then it all shut down.

Maybe what fell on my head was just an onion snow. Or maybe it was a freaking avalanche. I’m not sure yet.

(T-990)

Good Grief! – Day 102

 

 

Good Grief!               

Things are getting a little intense. To be accurate, they’ve been getting more and more intense for weeks, but good grief!

Just to recap, I’ve been having issues with Good Girl, my wonderful Prius with whom I do not want to part. A lot of my resistance has to do with my slightly competitive nature. Not that I’m competing with anyone outside of myself. Rather, I’m motivated to see just how many miles I can get out of her.

Karl and I pride ourselves on taking good care of our vehicles. We’ve managed to get hundreds of thousands of miles out of every car we’ve owned. Except for that company car he had early on in our marriage…not sure how many times (if any) we got the oil changed in that puppy. And it ended up “throwing a rod,” which turned out to be worse than throwing a fit.

That was a lesson we took to heart. Ever since then, we’ve been religious (there’s an ironic term coming from me, eh?) about changing the oil in our cars and keeping them otherwise well-maintained. And it’s paid off handsomely.

Good Girl

This one, though…Good Girl. She’s gone the farthest of all of our vehicles, and I want to stretch her record out as long as possible.

That said, she’s sort of been falling apart and behaving somewhat haphazardly. Mirroring in some ways, at least you could argue, my own frustrations of late.

Others might scoff at how I entertain the possibility that experiences with my automobile could somehow be indicative of a message applicable to me and my life. But that’s how I roll. I do my best to pay attention to what goes on around me. Notice the details. Remain open to possibilities. And listen to the messages.

So when I let you guys in on my ‘ripping the ass off’ my car the other day (“ripping her a new one?” Karl suggested), I realized as I was writing about it that I was using a specific word to describe what had happened that was consistent with another event that had occurred only a week earlier.

Even the Loaner Failed to Escape Unscathed

The evening before my two day CLE seminar in Philadelphia, I ran out to the grocery store for some frozen spinach. I parked the car my mechanic had generously allowed me to use while he and his men tried to figure out what was wrong with Good Girl. I went to hop out – and the lever that opens the car door on the inside snapped off in my fingers. I just sat there for a moment, stunned. I stared at the hunk of baby poop brown plastic in my hand. Good grief, I thought. I cannot believe this. I’ve succeeded in breaking the loaner car.

Not thinking clearly, I crawled over to the passenger’s side to exit the vehicle. Snagged my spinach. Returned home.

I’d texted Karl in the store and he greeted me in the driveway, helpfully suggesting that I could roll down the window, reach out, and open the door that way. Yep, better than crawling across the console.

What’s the Message, Kenneth?*

I didn’t write about that situation in a post – even though I did get the metaphor of snapping, and it did feel significant – because I found other, debatably more interesting, things to write about.

But as I wrote about all  the plastic and all the metal connections snapping on the back end of my Prius the other day, I have to admit, I was not feeling all that cavalier about the potential message I was receiving. I have been under a lot of stress for a fairly extended period of time. So has Karl. Was I somehow unconsciously transferring pent up frustrations, anxieties, or other energies into the objects around me causing them to snap? Were they warning me that I’d better pay attention? Perhaps be extra careful with myself, my health, my attitude?

Yikes.

So I laughingly shared the story with you, but didn’t delve too deeply into the possible implications other than to breezily remark about the potential metaphoric application to my life.

Et Tu, Printers?

Cue another weird experience I’ve been having with our printers. We have two, one of which is a great but ancient color laser printer from my law practice days, an undeniable workhorse, and the other a more recent vintage black and white laser printer/copier/scanner. Earlier this week, Monday I believe, the black and white simply stopped working for me. No error messages come up. It appears to accept the print command. Yet  nothing comes out of the machine. It works fine for Karl and his laptop. It even prints from his stupid phone.

Fine, I thought. I’m not going to get bent out of shape over this. It’s just another odd glitch. I’ll use the color laser printer. So I did. It’s been fine.

Karl needed to print some stuff out in color for a presentation. He got most of it to print, but a couple times the paper got jammed. Not a problem. This morning, he was printing out one last thing before leaving. It jammed again. I corrected the problem and thought it had all cleared. I closed the machine and it started whirring, as it normally does when it needs to bring itself back up to speed.

It continued whirring. And whirring. And freaking whirring. I was standing there, getting really annoyed as I waited to see if it was going to spit out any additional pages for Karl, because what was with the freaking whirring?

Suddenly, it stopped. Its lights were blinking. I walked over, irritated, and looked at the message on the printer. Believe me, I felt a chill. I think I need to pay some serious attention.

Good Grief!

(T-1009)  *A reference to a bizarre incident involving Dan Rather that only those of us of a certain age will get.

Instagram – Day Eighty

Photo by L. Weikel

Instagram…      

Or “what I did on this frigid cold day.” OK, full disclosure: this may not be the most scintillating Ruffled Feathers ‘1111 Devotion’ post you’ve read. But the fact that my desire to be read by as many people as possible is pushing me to actually start creating a presence on Instagram  is big news in my living room.

Talk about getting messages. And being resistant to listening.

Face It, Facebook is Becoming Passé

I’ve watched and listened and observed first hand that younger people are eschewing Facebook. I’ve not wanted to acknowledge what I’ve been seeing because, heck, I’ve been busy feeling all ‘not-archaic’ for posting my blog’s link on my personal and two commercial FB pages!

While this realization about the fading status of FB wasn’t exactly breaking news, it seemed to culminate over the holidays, and I did. not. want. to. hear it. I did not want to admit that Instagram has quite obviously supplanted the popularity of Facebook – even if I was seeing it with my very own eyes. Well, through my kids’ eyes. So I just looked the other way.

How Many Times Did I Have to Hear It?

Then about a week ago, I’m in the local health food store and recognize a young person who used to stay at one of the places I would give Listening Retreats. When we started talking about when I would be scheduling my offerings for 2019, I asked her for her email.

She looked at me a little funny and said, “Gee, I rarely check my email.”

I wondered aloud if she was on Facebook – I could ‘friend’ her and she would see when I posted a Hoot Alert there… I let my voice trail off as I could tell she was going to lay on me the same comments my kids had. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I try to stay away from Facebook. It’s just too…” she reached for the right word.

“Yeah, I get it,” I said, interrupting her search. “I bet you’re on Instagram, though, right?”

I had a hard time hiding my irritation at the way her face brightened at the mention of Instagram. Not with her, but with my own annoying resistance to learning a new technology platform.

And then, again, when I was attending that CLE seminar in Philadelphia last week, weren’t there a few what I can only presume were Millenials standing near me on one of our breaks, waiting for hot water for tea. (And I make that presumption because I am pretty sure none of them had hit the big 3-0 yet.) I could see them scrolling on their phones, occasionally stopping the scroll, thumbs flying over the keys as they elicited that soft ‘slup slup’ keyboarding sound as they made comments or posted something of their own. One of them caught my eye and I laughed. “Instagram?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling. “It’s how I keep up.”

I Get By (or Got On) With a Little Help From My Friends

So today, with some shepherding and encouragement from Sarah (mysustainablechoices on Instagram), I took some steps, big to me, to actually make my Instagram account ‘live.’

And of course, when I excitedly shared my breakthrough with another of my tech-savvy friends (probably the most tech-savviest), cosmic.meta.crow, she helpfully (if a tad tongue-in-cheek) mused that I will now have a forum for all the photos I’m discovering and organizing. Ha ha. (But hey, at least that shows she’s been reading my posts!)

So this is the extent of my post today: to let the world know I’m going to be making my Ruffled Feathers blog, and 1111 Devotion posts, available on Instagram. And hopefully posting some cool photos, too.

Stay tuned you guys. You never know what’s going to happen when I start getting the hang of this. (I know, though. As soon as I really start to feel comfortable with it, some way cooler platform will come along and I’ll be going through this metamorphosis yet again.)

It does give me pause to wonder: Was getting over myself enough to give Instagram a try maybe at least one of the messages being sent to me by my Bat? It’s entirely possible.

Oh – and in case you’re wondering, my (what’s it even called? Account? Handle? – Don’t worry, I know it’s not that) is: owlmedicine29.

Join me! No. I guess it’s “Follow me!” Ha ha. And if you have any tips, feel free to share.

(T-1031)

Magic – Day Thirty One

 Magic

Once again, if you’d asked me this morning what tonight’s post would be about, ‘magic’ would not have occurred to me, just as ‘trust’ wasn’t on my radar yesterday.

In case you didn’t notice, I was feeling a bit…passionate when I wrote last night’s post. Hard as it may be to believe, I’d actually brought it down a couple notches by the time I wrote the post. (You can imagine what it was like earlier that evening; it wasn’t pretty.) Indeed, I actually think I’ve been suffering from an adrenaline hangover all day today. My body aches and I’ve felt exhausted. Like a wet dishrag, actually. Just wrung the heck out.

Anyway, although Raven (which is associated with ‘Magic’ in the Medicine Cards), was not what I picked on my day this morning, it did end up being chosen by me in another context. And as the day unfolded, I honestly could feel Raven exercising its influence, even after the primary purpose for choosing it had passed. Indeed, I felt it working with the situation about which I was so upset yesterday.

While there are a couple of particularly salient paragraphs I could quote, I’m going to settle for just a few portions:

“If you have chosen Raven, magic is in the air. Do not try to figure it out; you cannot. It is the power of the unknown at work, and something special is about to happen. (…)

It may be time to call Raven as a courier to carry an intention, some healing energy, a thought, or a message. Raven is the patron of smoke signals or spirit messages represented by smoke. (…)

Remember, this magic moment came from the void of darkness, and the challenge is to bring it to light. In doing so you will have honored the magician within.”

Hurt Feelings Abounded

As it turns out, hurt feelings abounded last night, and not just on my end. Out of the darkness of that sense that I had unwittingly uncovered a betrayal from a completely unexpected source, the two of us were able to bring light to the situation.

Reflecting on the heartfelt emails that went back and forth between us today, I can only say that I know for certain both of us encountered magic. The volcanic eruption that occurred yesterday took us both completely by surprise. And yet, because we do have the level of trust that I described as only one tier below that of my inner circle of closest family, we each cared enough to express ourselves with utter vulnerability and honesty.

Need I say how startlingly rare that is in the world?

In the end, I am called upon to trust. I do not need the documentary proof that may or may not exist. I choose to rely on my instincts, and trust. I choose to listen to Raven, and embrace the magic.

Oh – one last thing? Moose was underneath that Raven. Wow.

(T-1080)