No, I’m not suggesting that you’ve forgotten that you need to heal something you’ve put on the back burner. The title I chose for tonight’s post is a reminder of the words President-elect Biden used early this evening when he and Vice President-elect Harris, along with their spouses, paid tribute to the over 400,000 people who’ve lost their lives to Covid-19 over the past year. We must remember to heal. The crux of his speech was that healing cannot take place without embracing our memories and allowing ourselves to feel. We must remember in order to heal.
When we sustain the loss of someone we love and cherish, it can feel like we’ve been burned. We shy away from the flame. We don’t want to go there again. It hurts too much.
But the truth of life and love is that we cannot separate our emotions. It’s impossible to parse out only the so-called ‘good’ feelings and emotions and simultaneously refuse the existence of the harder, more painful ones. You simply cannot have one without the other. They truly are two sides of the same coin.
Yet We Try
Just because the pain comes with the joy, the delight comes with the sorrow, doesn’t mean we won’t try to separate them. Of course we will – at least, most of us will try. As humans, that seems to be our default nature.
And that’s pretty much been our national reaction to this pandemic up to this point. There’s been a denial by many of the devastating loss. The deaths – so many, so staggeringly predictable, yet callously rejected as true. And the utter loneliness in which so many were forced to endure these losses.
Now, We Remember
This evening we were finally given permission to acknowledge the losses many of us, and so very many of our brothers and sisters, have sustained – and are enduring at this very moment. We remember. We know. We acknowledge the truth of our love, our relationships, our heartbreak, our loss.
Here we are again, at the beginning of a week that could have ramifications that extend from our own personal survival to that of our democracy, and indeed influence the balance of power in the world. Yeah, I know. It sounds hyperbolic. But if we’re honest, anyone who’s paying attention knows it’s true. So in order to give us some guidance and perspective as we navigate this week, I decided to ask the Crone.
I sat with my Tarot of the Crone deck and closed my eyes. I held within an awareness of the challenges we’re facing this week and started shuffling the cards. I could feel myself yearning for some kind of light, some indication from Spirit of what we should hold in our hearts as we witness the coming events unfold.
Where We Are/Where We’re Headed
I chose two cards. The first was to help us understand where we are; what we’re experiencing. And the second card I chose was where we’re headed; what’s coming; what’s in store for us.
Visually, just laying the cards out beside each other was stunning. They are remarkably similar at first glance, but the differences, while subtle, are unquestionably meaningful. And it’s not insignificant that I chose two Major Arcana cards. (Out of the 78 cards in a tarot deck, only 22 are Major Arcana and represent powerful archetypal concepts.) The fact that both cards are ‘Majors’ reinforces my sense of this week’s importance.
I also found it meaningful that Where We Are is only one card away from the end of the Majors. It is number XX, and in this deck its name is “Calling.” It doesn’t escape me that in traditional tarot decks, the XX card is called “Judgment.” We’re pretty much at the end game in our democracy. Our system is being challenged in ways the founders almost certainly never imagined. And yet…the Where We’re Headed Card is the very first card of the entire deck. We’re headed – hmmm. Back to the drawing board? Back to “Go” so we can redefine a more perfect union?
Even beyond the Constitutional crisis we’re approaching, there’s the horrifying reality of the surge in the pandemic creating vertical spikes in numbers of infections, which will inevitably lead to spikes in hospitalizations and, ultimately, deaths. Add to that the discovery of several mutations of the virus – the most recent, I believe, being in South Africa – and once again the eerie appropriateness of the “Calling” or “Judgment” card is obvious.
Tarot of the Crone by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince – XX Calling
Where We Are: XX – Calling
“Come
It is time for you to wear the cloak
Accept your power
And accept your responsibility
Come
Be with me now
Show me your power
The Crone holds up a red cloak, asking you to wear it, calling you to join her. She appears as a shadowy fantastical bird. The background is the rich blue of the deep sky. The red and blue represent power and justice. These are the colors and this is the card of the superhero. How an ordinary human can become extraordinary is the mystery of this card and it has nothing to do with anything you’ve been told before.
When you get this card, your life is changing, whether you want it to or not. From this change arises an opportunity to become greater in person and spirit, to step up to another level. Something is asked of you and you feel urged to respond. If your response is resistance, know it will take more energy from you than accepting the challenge would. This is your big moment. Take your courage, the strength of your heart, and fly.”
It seems to me that we are all being ‘called’ at this juncture to step up. To be superheroes for the greater good – to demand the right use of power and reinforce our belief in justice. This is big. History will judge us by our reactions and responses in the coming days.
Tarot of the Crone by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince – 0 Fool
Where We’re Headed: 0 – Fool
“To know me, you must first know this ~
In the Beginning, as in the End,
There is Nothing
Behind your ordinary world
Behind all manifestation
Lies the Void
I am the emptiness surrounding the universe
I am the uncertainty of the electron
I am the nothingness hiding in your soul
In the Void you have no name
Words do not exist
You have no memory, no past or future
Time does not exist
You find no landmarks, you have no body
Matter does not exist
But You
You may still exist
A mere spark of awareness
But that is enough
That is where you begin
The Cloak of the Crone is all you hear, all you see, all you know of your everyday world. Only a Fool would try to see what lies beneath. Only a Fool abandons the known for the unknown and perhaps unknowable. Only a Fool risks becoming lost in the Void, becoming a tiny star in endless space.
A force beyond your small self opens a new space in your soul. You are impelled to start on a new path. One in which you cannot predict the final destination, or possibly even the next step, but feels inevitable all the same. Can you truly trust the Universe? In the Void, where there is no up and no down, you can do nothing else. Remember there is a part of you that wants this, that welcomes it, because it knows becoming formless and timeless is what you need to create a new future.”
It seems to me that where we’re headed is uncharted territory. This is the time when we have the power and responsibility to create and hold a vision of what we want to manifest as our future. We really are at that crux in time when our choices, our values, our vision matter most. What do we truly hold dear? How passionate are we about the importance of truth, honor, accountability, integrity? What kind of a world do we want to create going forward?
Maybe it was the way the sunshine of the morning was almost imperceptibly overtaken by a gray comforter of overcast. The sleet that started prickling us as we rounded the final turn of our walk hastened our gait. The warmth of our fireplace beckoned. A sense of timelessness set in as daylight dimmed so dramatically that we had to check the time. Had we lost a few hours somewhere?
Was it the weather? Was it the arrival of the first day of the year on a Friday – giving us a full weekend to get used to the fact that we’re no longer under the spell of 2020?
If you are lucky enough not to be part of the front line troops in our most recent war, it was almost possible to imagine life unfolding in any configuration you might want to fantasize today. The cranky closeness of the clouds was the perfect screen upon which you could project any fantasy of reality you might want to conjure.
That’s such a strange facet of our reality right now. We have the world at our fingertips. But we also have the ability to cut ourselves off from the vast majority of it. For instance, living out in the country as I do, it’s a fact that if I choose not to look at my phone or computer or turn on my television, I can remain in total ignorance of the chaotic lives hundreds of thousands of people are living (and thousands are losing) every single day as a result of this pandemic.
It feels disrespectful and cold-hearted to realize that ‘out of sight, out of mind’ is both so easily employed and radically true in our country. Especially when you hear people saying that Covid-19 is a ‘hoax’ simply because they don’t know anyone who’s sick or died from it. Yet.
I’ve written before about my sense that it’s part of my personal responsibility as a member of society to maintain an awareness of what’s unfolding in our lives politically and otherwise. I’ve also written that it’s essential to maintain a healthy balance. We can become so consumed by anything (whether we judge that thing to be ‘good’ or ‘bad’) that it can do us harm by making us oblivious to the rest of our lives.
Cocoon
Today, though, with the weird color of the daylight and the remarkable quiet when we took our walk, it was stunningly easy to imagine the world to be much different than I know in my heart it is.
Perhaps there is some merit to total withdrawal every now and then. If we project onto our personal screens of overcast clouds a vision of a world where people honestly care as much about their fellow Earthlings as they do about themselves, maybe it will matter.
I can say one thing for sure. I could use another couple days of timelessness and projection of a better world. I’m glad we still have the weekend ahead of us.
Be well. Take care of yourselves. Spread love and kindness, not virus.
Times Square – New Year’s Eve 2020 (technically New Year’s Day 2021 at 12:35 a.m. or so)
A New Year
Not much to say this evening beyond, “Happy New Year. May your 2021 be filled with excellent health, justice, opportunity, sustenance, clarity, truth, compassion, and unconditional love.” It’s a new year, but I truly feel our scourge of 2020 has not quite run its course.
Just look at the photo above. I have to say, witnessing ‘the ball drop’ this year was one of the most unsettling experiences I’ve had in quite a while.
Don’t get me wrong! I was thrilled that there were so few people in NYC to celebrate the end of 2020 and the beginning of 2021. Thrilled in the sense that people are being smart and strong, compassionate and safe.
But honestly, it felt weird.
I’m tired. I wish you all a sweet and peaceful first day of January, 2021.
May we all experience some joy today, even if it’s in the simplest of things. Our best hope of getting through this in one piece is to lean on each other – and do it together.
Here we are, entering the home stretch of 2020, four digits comprising a year that will surely live as infamously in our collective memories as the three digits of 9/11.
Even though I sense it’s a mistake to think everything will suddenly improve once 2021 arrives, there is something to be said for ringing in a new year (or sometimes even a new month or a new week – if we’re desperate). No matter what our circumstances, it’s our nature as humans. We look for a reason to renew our hope, to believe that the tide has turned, that something – even if imperceptible – has changed.
And the truth is, things will change in 2021. As it’s been said countless times over the years, change is constant and therefor inevitable. Every single thing we look at, taste, touch, smell, perceive in any way is changing. It may be imperceptible at any given moment, but change is inexorable.
Fear of Change
Another truth? We humans tend to fear change at the deepest level of our being. How much do we fear it? We fear it so much that we’ll often opt to remain in a situation that literally hurts us physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, including combinations thereof, rather than affirmatively act to change our circumstances.
So these two competing concepts set us up for some serious stress. Everything changes; therefore change is inevitable. Yet we fear change, resist it, and plain just do not like it.
Coping with these internal stressors can be hard on us on a good day. But when you think about what all of us have been dealing with over the past year (and some might even argue for the past four years), including massive job loss, complete disruption of our lives on every level but especially socially, food and housing insecurity felt by people who’ve never encountered this situation before, pandemic infection rates rising exponentially, massive loss of loved ones on a scale not seen in a century. I could throw into this toxic mess the instability and fear that an unstable person in the White House who refuses to abide by the results of our election (and the appalling behavior of his enablers in the U.S. Congress) creates in the pit of our collective stomach.
It’s just all so very much to handle. We are at once being asked to duck and bob and weave the repercussions of change all day every day, while also, again, feeling like any change could lead to something worse.
Hope
And so? With change on the horizon, as it inevitably is, the best we can do is hope that it’s bringing us a better tomorrow. We have the ability to make choices that impact the change we experience.
We can choose to behave safely. We can choose to stay home unless absolutely required for our employment or survival. We can choose to be compassionate toward ourselves and each other. The person who is stressed out beyond measure in the grocery checkout line may well have just lost a family member or friend.
One in 17 of us have contracted the virus and one out of every 1,000 Americans have now died from Covid. The chances of personally experiencing the ravages of this pandemic – or knowing someone who has – are increasing at an alarming rate. Knowing this, we can choose to be kind. We can choose to respect each other and not force a choice between one person’s ‘rights’ and another’s.
We can choose to be people who engender hope – in humanity, in each other, in our future.
We’re in the home stretch of 2020. Let’s set the bar for ourselves for 2021 and stretch to meet our best selves this coming year.
The day we lose our hope, we lose ourselves.
Home Stretch – Spartacus (aka “Kissing the Bear”) – Photo: L. Weikel
I’m sitting here listening to rain pelt against the dining room windows while a long, lonely gust of wind whistles through the keyhole of our front door. No need to worry about ‘closed building syndrome’ in this old house – and that’s just fine with me. I’m happy with the creaks and cracks of this home, the things some people might consider imperfections.
In fact, I’d go so far as to say I love the imperfections that make our house our home. Not all of them, of course. (Oh, for even a smidgen more kitchen counter space.) But overall? I honestly think it’s the imperfections that keep me sane.
Maybe it’s because I grew up in a house that was built in 1770. It was nothing like the houses of most of my friends. Our wooden floors were known to occasionally cast splinters as big as spears into my foot, piercing my socks and making me yelp (and causing my father to reach for the black gunky stuff that smelled like tar, that would supposedly ‘pull it out’ if it was embedded too deeply to dig out).
Christmas Eve 2020
I think many of us would agree that this Christmas in particular is filled with imperfections. Certainly, it’s far different than any Christmas most of us can recall. But I have to wonder. What will we remember most about this most abnormal of yuletides?
There are so many people enduring untold grief this Christmas. (And of course, I am using Christmas as a shorthand for all the holidays we may be celebrating at this time of year that celebrate the return of light, and encourages going within, hibernating, and reflection.) Nothing feels the same. And precious little is the same.
People are losing loved ones to the pandemic and other causes by the thousands – every single day. We’re being asked to sacrifice our traditions for the safety of ourselves and others. We’re wondering just how long this no-longer-fresh hell is going to last.
A Reminder
Karl and I were lucky enough to be able to spend a few hours with one of our sons and daughter-in-law. Because the weather is as unpredictable as it is, early this evening, it was balmy enough for us to safely sit outside in their enclosed porch and eat dinner together – occupying opposite ends of the long dinner table.
As we were driving home in the pouring rain that luckily mostly held off until we were leaving, the wind starting to whip around us, a couple of deer jumped out into the roadway in front of us. Luckily, I was driving slowly enough that I saw them well ahead of time. Turned out, though, that the three that popped onto the roadway before us were joining quite the cadre of peers on the other side of the road.
They were so beautiful and such an unexpected sight! I rolled down my window and took their photo, in spite of the raindrops splattering on my face. They were a lovely reminder of the gentleness we’re all wise to exercise with each other and ourselves over these holiday times.
I’m grateful we didn’t have an accident. And I loved the looks they seemed to give us as they stood there in the rain, returning our gaze. I realize this post probably makes little sense. But I wish all of you a peaceful, loving Christmas Day. May we all enjoy a day of respite from the insanity that has marked this year in particular.
And I’ll forgive myself for the vast imperfections of this post – not least being the fact that I just blew right through the witching hour of 1:00 a.m. (when it gets automatically sent out to my email list).
Merry Christmas. Happy Solstice. Let’s let the light shine into our hearts.
Shortly into this downhill slide our country is experiencing, I felt in my bones that something wasn’t right. Indeed, I wrote a post about what I saw unfolding in our country that, upon re-reading it for the first time this evening, has me sort of wondering at the sad accuracy of my screed back at the beginning of March (almost nine months to the day ago). And while I was finishing up the last few pages of my journal at the time, I actually started a new one on the 7th of April – and eerily enough, declared on the very first page that it would probably end up being my “Pandemic Journal.”
To quote myself and my inelegant observation that day: “The shitstorm has already started.”
Our Unique Experiences
I suspect every person who keeps a journal has some idea in the back of their head that someone, someday, may find value in the description of our mundane lives and thoughts, our descriptions of what we encounter in our daily lives, and how we perceive the slow steamroller of life’s events. It’s intriguing to me to consider that what I take for granted as everyday normality will someday read as a curiosity. Quaint, even. But that’s ok. That feels like a normal evolution of consciousness. It’s the way we are.
I nevertheless wish I could read the musings of my own ancestors. Would I find their thoughts and innermost contemplations quaint? Or would I find them even more profound than I sometimes fancy my own? (I’d like to think I would.)
Cool Opportunity
Anyway, just today I discovered this very cool project being undertaken by the University of Connecticut. It’s called the Pandemic Journaling Project. I encourage you to check it out. No matter whether you’ve contracted Covid-19 or not, lost or suffered through scary times with a loved one, lost your job, had your opportunity to contribute to society multiplied, been exhausted as a healthcare worker, organized the less fortunate for safer working conditions, or found yourself staring at four walls all day wondering who you are and what this scourge has done to your life…here is a place to document it.
Someone, someday, may discover something remarkable about our experience of the infamous 2020. We may display hues of resiliency we never dreamed possible. We may exhibit compassion or despair in equal measures, only to be buoyed by the tiniest gesture of kindness coming from a totally unexpected source.
Documenting the large and small experiences of living through these times is a gift we can all give to our progeny. If you check out this site, you will see there are a number of ways you can make a contribution. Verbally, by the written word, privately, or allow your thoughts and experiences to be shared.
Tomorrow I will share with you the blow I suffered with respect to my Pandemic Journal. It’s taken me all these months to share, but maybe now is the time.
I just logged onto my laptop to write tonight’s post and was met with something that’s just gross. Call me a prude, call me old-fashioned, but I was disgusted when my computer’s calendar popped up a notification alerting me to the fact that tomorrow is Black Friday.
Really?
Black Friday gets as much of a calendrical shout out as, say, Memorial Day? New Year’s Day? Or dare I say Thanksgiving?
Why in the world would this even be something marked on anyone’s calendar? It’s not a day of honoring, celebration, reverence, seasonal significance, or even religious observation. It’s simply a day of mass consumerism.
Breaking Even
Yes, I know the importance of Black Friday is that it is a day where people go out and purchase stuff in such a massive frenzy that the dollars spent cause retailers’ balance sheets to not only break even but go from being ‘in the red’ to ‘in the black.’ Therefore, it’s a day of huge importance to purveyors of goods, mostly – although those who sell their services also get in on the scramble.
I’ll confess: I’m not a big shopper to begin with. But this year, especially, the whole concept of Black Friday feels utterly icky. I can only hope against hope that we’re spared videos or photos of people clambering cheek to jowl for the chance to barge into stores for bargains. They’re disheartening to witness any year – but now? In the year of Our Dear Lord Please Don’t Let It Get Any Worse 2020? It makes me want to take a hot soapy shower just thinking about it.
It also makes me want to cry.
From Today to Tomorrow
How do we manage to internally shift gears from spending today feeling grateful for the people and circumstances in our lives, great and small, that make life worth living – and feeling responsible to express that gratitude and love by remaining away and separated from those we love and cherish – to spending the next day potentially exposing ourselves and each other to a deadly virus just to buy stuff?
Kind of ironic, all that ‘spending.’
Maybe my cynicism is unwarranted. Perhaps we’ll all be pleasantly shocked tomorrow evening by the dearth of evidence that people threw public health and caring for friends, neighbors, and loved ones (not to mention themselves) to the wind in service to their need to acquire stuff.
I’m not in any way suggesting that if Black Friday is your day to spend lots of money and help shopkeepers breathe a sigh of relief that you should refrain from doing so. I’m only hoping you’ll do it remotely, or at the very least intelligently and compassionately. If we don’t take care of ourselves and each other, next year there will be significantly fewer of us around to buy a damn thing.
Let’s carry forward our gratitude and appreciation for each other. Stay home; spend money online, and if you have to go out, wear masks and stay far away from each other. Short term hassle, long term health and life and the opportunity to spend another day – and hopefully many more – spending.
Whoosh, what a blast of chilliness blew into our area last night! While I haven’t seen or felt any yet myself, a coating of flurries was due to arrive sometime this evening. And in spite of an urge on both Karl’s and my part urging us to forego bundling up and venturing out, we pushed through. We did it, and it was the highlight of our evening. Hence, I’m launching into an old refrain: when you’re feeling glum or defeated or overwhelmed with the state of the world, take a walk.
Yes, the air was crisp. Tonight was the first time this season we had to bundle up and break out our neck gators. Aaaah – made of Turtle Fur, I must admit, I adore how soft and warm they are. They make all the difference when contemplating braving the elements. Keeping your neck warm is essential.
The Real Good Stuff
But enough of my late fall dressing tips. What was really important for us over the past two nights of walking was the gloriousness of the night sky. First, the sliver of a moon last night, which became noticeably larger and brighter crescent in the passage of just one evening.
As you can see, I managed a lovely shot of that tiniest of new moons last night – dangling enticingly in the burnt orange sky.
While tonight, although she was dramatically brighter and a noticeably more pronounced waxing crescent, I couldn’t for the life of me get a good shot of her. I did try; and I could share them with you. But nah. They didn’t do her justice.
Vast Beauty of the Night – Photo: L. Weikel
Starry Cloudy Night
So I turned my attention away from the setting moon and onto the clouds parting directly above, revealing a thick blanket of glitterati.
I’ll confess: Karl and I had both been in a bit of a foul mood as we cajoled each other into taking our evening constitutional. It’s helpful, as always, when Spartacus gets wind that we’re “going to take a walk-y.” His enthusiasm is sometimes the only thing that drags or guilts us into setting out – especially when it starts getting cold out.
But we did tonight. Thank goodness.
The spiraling crisis of the pandemic as it starts to devastate the Midwest and Southwest, as it starts to raise its ugly head again here on the East coast, is sobering. If we’re paying attention, we can see the irrefutable proof that gathering with anyone beyond our own household for Thanksgiving or the Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanza holidays (not to mention New Years) could result in rampant community spread, hospitalization, and potential death.
We walked. We reveled in the recollection and appreciation of just how precious our lives are in this moment. Gazing upon the growing young moon and boundless stars has that effect on most of us. But it’s easy to forget. It’s easy to talk ourselves into staying home, hunkering down, and ducking for cover.
But I promise you. There’s still plenty of time to cuddle and cocoon upon your return. But there’s no substitute for a dip into the vastness of Mother Nature to remind us that life is fleeting. It’s healthy to expand our horizons and remember just how precious these moments are.
I just realized that about fifteen minutes from when I’m writing this, it’s going to be Friday the 13th. Normally, I embrace the 13th of anything – and I certainly do not ascribe any ill-fated inclinations to the number. As a matter of fact, I’ve considered the 13th to be a fortunate number in my own life. It is historically associated with women and the moon, and best yet, my eldest son was born on the 13th, albeit not a Friday. That said, when I saw that tomorrow is Friday the 13th, my first thought was, “Ugh oh.”
Let’s not forget: it may be November, but it’s still 2020. I don’t think there’s been much of anything this year that’s not had a little bit of “ugh oh” associated with it. But the next several days are going to be particularly intense.
Jupiter Conjunct Pluto
In fact, one astrological aspect that occurred today and that’s impacting all of us is Jupiter conjuncting Pluto. This is an aspect that occurs every 13 years. It’s generally associated with big death or major (Jupiter) transformation (Pluto).
The unique specialness that we’ve come to know as 2020 brought us the tremendously lovely (eye roll) opportunity to experience this conjunction three times within seven months. Why? Because both planets went retrograde this year right around when they were aspecting each other in Capricorn.
That means that Jupiter and Pluto were conjunct (meaning occupying the same degree and sign at the same time) on April 4, 2020. It may be recalled, that’s right around when the pandemic started exploding in New York.
Both Pluto and Jupiter then stationed (appeared to ‘stop’) and went retrograde (an optical illusion that makes a planet appear to be going backwards in its usual orbit), Pluto at the end of April and then Jupiter in early May. This caused the two planets to meet up with each other and become conjunct again – on June 30th. This coincided with another blip in the coronavirus spread.
And today, we just had the third conjunction of the two planets, as they both are moving forward again and have, once again, caught up with each other. Sad to report, but the pandemic is reaching crisis proportions here. Just today, I believe there were something like 158,000+ new positive cases. That’s more than 10,000 more cases today than yesterday. And hospitalizations and deaths are increasing as well, although they are, as always, ‘lagging’ indicators. (Because people don’t usually get hospitalized and rarely die the same day they’re diagnosed with Covid-19. That takes some time.)
On the Bright Side
We’ll be experiencing a new moon early Sunday morning (late Saturday evening for those on the west coast), so we might want to think about planting some fresh intentions geared toward keeping ourselves, our families, and everyone we come into contact with safer. It feels especially important to set such intentions this weekend because the next two weeks will encompass Thanksgiving. Remember: short term sacrifice for long-term gain.
There are other planetary aspects occurring over the next few days that could portend additional likelihood of volatility, rage, and acting out. Given that tomorrow is Friday the 13th, then, it might behoove all of us to be mindful of everything that’s going on right now and just chill out.
We didn’t get a chance to walk today because every time we thought about setting out, it started to drizzle. Here’s hoping we get to walk tomorrow. Stay well, everyone.
