persistence Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

What In the World

What in the world is brewing in our country? If we’re honest, I think we all have a good idea – and it is ugly. Ugly and craven and, if we’re not careful, a recipe for injecting a poison into our country that could kill who we are and what we stand for.

I received an earnest reaction to my post last night, my post that encouraged us all to embrace stillness. That reaction was simultaneously one of embracing the power of stillness as well as urging the continued resistance to tyranny. And truth be told, I couldn’t agree more.

While there is wisdom in retreating to the stillness until a dissipation of the current fog of distraction and disinformation occurs, it would behoove us to take one crucial action before our retreat.

One Crucial Action

There is nothing as seminal to the identity of Americans as the concepts of freedom of speech and freedom of assembly. The deployment of what is essentially a secret army of unidentified armed forces against American citizens under the guise of keeping the peace, which is actually inciting the exact opposite effect, is the antithesis of our country’s ideals and values.

The behavior we’re seeing in Portland at this very moment, brutalization, tear gassing, rendition (complete with hooding suspects without advising them of their rights or where they are being taken), and the threat of a ‘surge’ of these secret police and their illegal and unconstitutional tactics being inflicted upon Chicago, Albuquerque, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and elsewhere (all cities run by Democrats, naturally) within the coming days, should bring terror to the hearts of all of us.

We are at a crossroads.

So before you retreat into stillness, call or write to your senators. Tell them in no uncertain terms that they must not condone or enable the outrageous behavior being conducted by the DHS at the behest of our rogue president and his enabling Attorney General.

Persistence – The Ocean Oracle by Susan Marte

Persistence

Which could explain the card that just happened to be underneath (meaning on the bottom of the deck) when I chose Fog/Stillness yesterday. The foundational card, the card at the bottom of the deck, was Sandpiper/Persistence.

Make a call. Send an email. Express your outrage.

Then retreat into the STILLNESS.

I feel the sky this afternoon reflects the volatility of our world right now. Huge thunderheads that threaten potential destruction pierced by rays of light and clarity.

We are capable of being persistent in our resistance yet true to our soul’s need to withdraw into a cloak of stillness that rejuvenates our spirit. We are capable of living this paradox. And now is the time when we must.

(T-491)

Icy berries – Photo: L. Weikel

Ice and Fire

The accuracy of the weather forecasts so far this season has not been impressive. I realize meteorology is an imprecise science, given the whims and vagaries of the elements, but I really thought the field had its act together better than this.

We awakened this morning to a lovely coating of ice on practically everything living: trees, plants, grasses. Not so much coating on inanimate objects, though. And the roads were, luckily, a piece of cake.

There is a crystalline beauty to ice storms, though. And it’s much easier to appreciate that beauty if you are lucky enough not to lose boughs off your trees or electricity due to downed wires. I’m grateful to report that we lost neither limb nor light.

Nevertheless, It Persisted

I was surprised that the coating of ice on all the branches didn’t melt as the day wore on. In fact, even though the temperature hovered right around 33, I actually think some of the coatings grew thicker. In spite of expectations of yielding and bending to thermodynamic facts, the ice nevertheless persisted. All day – and into tonight.

Fire In the Belly

And in spite of the cold and raw temperatures that dominated the day, several hundred people gathered outside Congressman Brian Fitzpatrick’s (R-PA 01) home office to demand that he represent the will of his constituents and vote yes in tomorrow’s impeachment vote in the House of Representatives.

I have to admit, I’m actually starting to feel like an old hand at this protesting stuff. For each cause I’ve been moved to show up for and speak out about (climate change, women’s rights, immigration reform – particularly the separation and caging of families and children – and now impeachment, among others), I’ve found my fellow protestors to be kind, polite, peaceful, yet passionate – with a fire in their belly for what they believe is right and just for all.

The only one of my photos I could upload. (The others will arrive tomorrow via email from my phone to my laptop.) Thanks, VZ wireless. Photo: L. Weikel

A Sense of Melancholy

Perhaps it was the ice. Perhaps it was the rain. Perhaps it was the effect of both working to dampen the fire in everyone’s belly. While there absolutely was a sense of determination in this crowd, a resolute insistence that no one is above the law, the evening felt tempered by a sense of melancholy.

For all the hundreds of people there demanding the president be held accountable for his transgressions, there was a pocket of about 30 of those who feel he is an example of everything that’s right with the world.

What I noticed was their meanness.

A large white diesel pickup truck with the barest excuse for a muffler rode slowly among the rows of parked cars behind the crowd revving its engine. Over and over. Just revving its diesel engine, spewing fumes as it crawled from one row to another, quite obviously on a mission not to park, but to distract and annoy. We made a point of moving deeper into the plaza.

So it was ironic that 45 minutes later, the driver of that same vehicle took notice of us as we were leaving. Just as we were unlocking our car, I heard the familiar revving again. I glanced toward the truck, as it once again started revving its engine as it waited in line to exit the parking lot. The driver, a young man probably in his mid to late 20s, had his window down and his left arm hanging out the window and down the door of the truck’s cab. Picking up on my glance, he looked over at me with a grimace and quite distinctly called me a “fucking whore.”

Really?

He followed it up with a taunt that I should enjoy driving home in my “piece of shit Prius,” then revved his engine again, apparently for emphasis.

Wow. I’d only glanced in his direction precisely because he kept revving his engine. He’d been looking for attention. And when he received it, when I made eye contact, he used the opportunity to hurl an ugly heap of nasty on me.

That’s when the melancholy hit me hardest. I looked at Karl, who I could tell wanted to respond but was actively choosing not to engage, and felt a wave of despair. Talk like that, antagonism toward us as someone ‘other’ than their own family and friends, is disheartening.

Here we are, speaking up and taking a stand for this kid to live in a country where the elite do not have more or better rights than he does. And here he is, taking the part of those who would exploit him at the drop of a hat. Buying the lies that the powerful use to divide us.

I don’t know how to heal the wounds if we can’t even agree on a shared reality anymore.

(T-710)