metaphor

Another Dimension – Day 711

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 4 Comments
Crescent and Fog – Photo: L. Weikel

Another Dimension

Sometimes we stumble across a person, place, or thing in our everyday lives and we almost have to pinch ourselves to see if we’re dreaming. That’s sort of been Karl’s and my experience the past two early evenings. Not just once, but twice we’ve encountered a very obvious threshold; a portal into another dimension.

The spontaneous rising of a rather substantial bank of fog in the fields surrounding our home lent an eerie and ethereal atmosphere to our walks the past few evenings. On the one hand, we were treated to a spectacularly clear view of Saturn, Jupiter, and the waxing crescent moon creating a graceful arc in the evening sky. It’s also kind of cool to realize that, if our eyesight were only powerful enough, we’d also be able to see Pluto nestled in the expanse between Saturn and Jupiter.

Yet at the same time that we revel in that unobstructed view of those outer planets and our moon, when we bring our gaze down to ground level, we can barely see beyond our own shoes. There’s a little inner double-take that happens when we first realize how backwards this all seems. Why is our ability to see things up close so obscured?

Perhaps it’s a metaphor; I really can’t say. Maybe we’re supposed to be setting our sights on what we want to create and the ideals to which we choose to aspire. We know what we want; we can see it clearly. But maybe we’re supposed to reach those goals through an act of faith.

Approaching the Portal – Photo: L. Weikel

Entering the Portal

We reached a point in our walk both last night and tonight when the way ahead appeared to be an illustration straight out of a book of fairy tales. Clarity prevailed almost everywhere we looked, but straight ahead? Our path led us directly into what appeared to be a portal to another dimension.

Entering this portal felt like it might lead to another time and space. We joked that at least we had each other; maybe we should hold hands so as not to lose each other in the heavy mist. Perhaps the Beings of the threshold would try to persuade us to take a nap and we would awaken a decade or two hence.

It felt like we weren’t alone as we broached the almost cave-like threshold. A photo I took captured not a wall of fog but rather shapes and swirls and the maybe even the faintest source of cool hands brushing our cheeks and tickling our necks.

We walked maybe 25 yards through this ground cloud of haze only to emerge – suddenly – into a what felt like the other side of the mirror. We returned to the road, further along by far, but with our surroundings revealed to us with laser-like focus and clarity once more.

Photo: L. Weikel

Emergence

Were we changed by the experience? At first glance, it would appear we weren’t. But maybe we should take a little time. Wait and see. Was this a metaphor? Do we feel relatively unscathed because we persevered? Because we continued walking through the veil, putting one foot in front of the other and having faith we’d eventually emerge from the fog?

I don’t know.

It felt significant that we stayed the course; that we didn’t turn around or freeze up just because the way forward was suddenly and dramatically obscured. Not that we even entertained stopping. Or turning around. Not really. But…what was that passing in front of me as I tried to take a photo?

(T-400)

Things Look Different – Day 668

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Photo: L. Weikel

Things Look Different

I took the two photos I’m including in tonight’s post within less than a minute of each other. The only change was the use of the zoom on my iPhone. While I do this a lot with a vast majority of the subjects I photograph – zoom in and out to see how much detail I can capture or what the big picture might tell about context – tonight’s two photos really caught my eye. Things look different.

Perhaps it’s just my mind struggling to make sense of the latest revelations billowing across the airwaves. Hearing our president admit, knowing he was being taped, that he was warned back in January of the colossal impact and likely devastation the Coronavirus was going to bring to our country. Hearing him relate to Bob Woodward in an eerily breathy and awestricken voice just how deadly and easily transmissible the virus is. And then recalling him telling us day after day the exact opposite of what he knew to be true.

It’s a lot.

And tonight’s clouds just felt like a darn good metaphor for what’s being revealed.

On the one hand, close up one can almost feel a bit of optimism. There’s some blue sky within the cross-hatch of the clouds, a bit of clarity. But if you look at the clouds a little more carefully, it’s as if they’re at cross purposes. Some seem clearly heading one way in the sky and another patch, almost within the realm of the first patch, seem intent on heading in the opposite direction.

Cross Purposes

One might imagine the view of the sky, if taken from a wider, more expansive perspective, might reveal even more hope; a bit more blue sky. More options.

Usually, when we ‘stop and take a step back’ we find some sense of reassurance or perspective.

I didn’t feel that tonight, especially when I got home and looked more carefully at the two photos. Nor did I feel it when I paid attention for the first time tonight to the latest ‘breaking news’ in what has become a fire hose of ugly revelations. But the thing is, the revelations are not a total surprise. If you were paying attention, the clouds at cross purposes were there all along.

We wanted to focus on the slivers of blue sky, the stark and dramatic outlines of the trees along the horizon.

If we’d adjusted our sights, taken a step back, we just might have caught wind of the blanket of darkness escaping our perception.

Then again, on second thought, perhaps it all looks rather bleak.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-443)

Empathy and Listens – Day 645

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Discordant and tumultuous sky – Photo: L. Weikel

Empathy and Listens

The two words that stood out to me the most tonight as I watched the Virtual Democratic Convention were ‘empathy’ and ‘listens.’

Throughout the evening, these words – and many others, to be sure – were used to describe attributes Joe Biden brings to the table that differentiate him from the current occupant of the White House. The way Joe Biden embodies the essence of these two words in particular was very effectively conveyed in photo after photo as the night progressed. I have to admit it: I’ve always taken for granted the genuine affection for and interest in people that he has so readily displayed all these years.

Of course, Michelle Obama knocked it out of the park when she drove home the indisputable fact that we yearn for a leader who not only listens – to experts, to scientists, to advisors, to warnings, to facts, to the people he governs – but also has the inherent ability to imagine walking in the shoes of another and can imagine their pain, their fear, their sorrow, and their needs.

It is painful to witness this president’s lack of empathy. It is virtually impossible to dispute that there is something deeply, inherently damaged in him. And oddly, it is hard not to feel sorry for him (if only fleetingly) and his obvious inability to feel sorry for anyone other than himself. (That’s quite a pretzel – feeling empathy for a person who has none himself.)

New Moon

I’m glad this virtual convention is taking place this week. Tomorrow evening is the new moon. It is, in truth, the time when the moon is darkest, which serves as a decent metaphor for the very dark times we find ourselves in as a country and, in an unprecedented number, individually.

It’s sort of that ‘darkest before the dawn’ scenario. This is the time when we plant the seeds of new beginnings, new ideas, new approaches to life. This is when we realize that what we’ve been doing isn’t working, what we’ve had isn’t cutting it.

So what do we do? We dream our world into being. We collectively envision what it is we want to create in our country, in our government, in our lives, and we paint that image for all to see. We paint it for others through words and actions so they, too, can add their energy to the collective imagining or dreaming-into-being of the world we wish to create.

And there’s no better time than to do that planting, painting, and envisioning than at the new moon. So I feel this virtual convention was well-timed.

Virtual Convention

And I for one found the format of this ‘convention’ made it far easier to hear the speakers and grasp their ideas and passions. Interestingly, it made it easier, for me at least, to connect with the speakers, get a sense of who they were and listen to what they were saying. While I’m sure those who would have been delegates to the convention are lamenting the restrictions imposed by the pandemic, it seemed to me that if people are truly valuing the quality of listening, then this format was perfect for this unique time in our lives and the life of our country.

I’m looking forward to engaging in more listening this week. I yearn to believe there’s reason to hope we can reclaim the soul of our country.

And I have to admit, as a shamanic practitioner, I feel the concept of reclaiming (retrieving) the soul of our country could not be a more perfect metaphor for what is needed.

After the storm – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-466)

Water Over the Dam – Day 455

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Dam at Lake Nockamixon – Photo: L. Weikel

Water Over the Dam

This expression is often used when something has happened and it can’t be taken back.

In the past when I’ve heard this expression, I’ve often imagined the water slurping over the top of the dam, a slosh of water sort of escaping the confines of the dam that’s holding the majority of the water back.

But when I look at the photo of the dam at Lake Nockamixon, which you could argue is ‘holding back’ my favorite local body of water, the Tohickon Creek, you can see that the water is not slurping over the barrier.

No, it’s cascading. It’s rushing headlong, determined on its course.

Reality and Metaphor

It’s fascinating to me how Spirit brings us messages much more frequently than we realize.  Sometimes we find ourselves looking for messages everywhere we turn, searching our surroundings for signs that might give us a clue as to how we should decide to respond to a situation or what kind of choice we should make when facing a dilemma.

And sometimes there it is: right in front of our face.

Yes, the eagle flying high overhead could easily be suggesting that we should rise above a situation and look at it from a higher perspective. Try to see the question or issue from more angles than might be obvious to us from our particular vantage point.

But perhaps the message isn’t the eagle flying high above our head.

Maybe the message is in the storm clouds gathering on the horizon, getting darker and darker each moment as we try to focus on the beauty of the lake or the sound of the rushing water rejoining and feeding the Tohickon.

There’s definitely darkness on the horizon – that is quite obvious.

But there’s sunshine in the distance as well.

I only just realized this evening that the answer was staring me in the face:

It’s literally water over the dam. It’s a rush of water, dashing itself on the rocks below.

The thing is, it’s reality: it’s not just a metaphor. It’s water over the dam. It’s done. It’s over. And nothing will get that water back into the lake.

Some blue sky coming – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-656)