rainbows

In For a Landing – Day 1020

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Snowy Owl Coming In For a Landing – Photo: L. Weikel

In For a Landing

A line of thunderstorms came through our area just as the sun was contemplating setting. Besides billowing harbingers of potential mayhem and torrential downpours, one scenario depicted in the sky was a snowy owl coming in for a landing.

I’d actually just completed closing Sacred Space following a session with a client when a deep and prolonged rumble of thunder rippled out across the sky. Stepping outside, I got goosebumps when I took in the scenario unfolding above my head.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter whether anyone else can see what you see. Not if the magic of a moment infuses with you awe. Or hope. Or maybe even the tiniest sliver of a sense of being part of something much greater than the superficial illusions that we normally chase and often cherish.

Besides these clouds, there were a few rainbow moments that, oddly, appeared to be less a rainbow and more a multicolored bar. I couldn’t manage to get a photo of it fast enough, but the traditional colors of a rainbow made a brief appearance in the sky sporting the sharp, clean, rectangular edges of…a flag. Or a banner. It seemed more a statement than a wish.

I was so frustrated that I missed the shot.

Speaking the Truth – Photo: L. Weikel

An Evening Chorus

The last several nights have been deathly silent as I wrote my posts. Those moments when the rain wasn’t falling and tink, tink, tinking on the metal casing of our window air conditioner, the air was still and close. The atmosphere was super-saturated (my skin’s assessment, not a meteorologically defined status statement) and no self-respecting insect, plant, or animal wanted to exert an ounce of unnecessary energy in pursuit of movement or song.

But tonight is different. Perhaps this shift will last and the weight of fearing to embrace change will lift from our psyches. It’s up to us to give our true selves permission to sing, just as the voices of the katydids, crickets, and annual cicadas are nearly deafening this evening.

We’re being pushed to question the way we’ve been doing a lot in our lives. What beliefs do we hold onto until our fingers bleed? Where do we place our faith? How do we know what’s true? What approaches to life are we so sure about that we’re willing to build our reputations on them?

What principles do we believe in so passionately that we’re finally going to risk finding our voice and speaking out?

Conversations – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-91)

Checking In – Day 802

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Karl Checking In – Photo: L. Weikel

Checking In

Every once in a while I’ll see something or hear a song on the radio (or one that randomly plays on my iPhone) that makes me feel like Karl is checking in on us. Shortly after he died, his energy was very present. I didn’t have to be psychic to notice his efforts to communicate and get our attention.

After some weeks and months, he seemed to settle into using my iPod (and then my iPhone, which had the same music library as the iPod) as his favorite, most effective means of communication. Indeed, I swear there were hundreds of songs on my device that I only heard for the first time when they began playing as I drove my car with the song set on ‘random.’ The uncannily perfect lyrics to so many songs that played – and my astonishment each time as I realized what the lyrics were actually saying and how they could easily have been coming out of his mouth at that moment – were simultaneously heart breaking and soul mending.

As the months have turned to years, Karl’s presence has diminished. I hoped it wouldn’t, obviously. While I could no longer put my arms around him or look in his eyes as we talked or see the flash of his smile, I could still hear his voice. Through the songs he chose and even the order in which he literally would have a play list lined up for me sometimes, he conveyed sarcasm, wit, occasional regret, sadness, and almost always somewhere in there an auric iteration of love.

Occasionally, he would choose songs that utterly freaked me out in their uncanny relevance to something I might be thinking about or experiencing that no one else in the world knew about.

Rainbows

There are certain animals that cross my path (and the paths of our nuclear family) that have particular significance or connection to Karl. Rainbows, too, seemed to show up as exclamation points or reinforcements to other communications, often appearing literally on objects that were connected to him. He managed to arrange for some pretty elaborate displays of light a couple of times, almost always when there was an especially important (to him) message to convey.

Even the rainbows have dwindled in occurrence over the past year or so.

I try not to wish for more frequent communications any longer. Given my experiences in other realms, I am acutely aware that life goes on. Not just for us here on Earth, but for those who shed their bodies here and move on to the next opportunity for their soul’s evolution.

I do sense, however, that he checks in on us every once in a while.

Which leads me to the photo accompanying this post. I took it the morning of the inauguration. I have not seen a rainbow in this location in our living room prior to seeing the one in this photo.

Karl and I saw it at almost exactly the same moment. We pointed, laughed, and said, “Karl’s here.”

We sensed it was a sign that hope was on the horizon. But no matter how things work out, now or in the future, the knowledge within our hearts that life survives death changes everything.

(T-309)

Wild Storms – Day 515

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Tree Lightning – Photo: L. Weikel

Wild Storms

I recently wrote about the intense lightning storm we had the other night. The astonishing and relentless strings of flashes that seemed to reach into our bedroom from all directions to shake us awake were intensely brilliant. And I know I mentioned it before, but the lack of accompanying thunder was eerie.

Today, I was sitting on our porch writing when I looked up and noticed some very bruised looking clouds amassing on the western horizon. In only a few minutes, the wind started whipping around, flinging our Christmas tree (which we leave outside near the feeders to give shelter to the birds through the springtime) into the side of Karl’s car and slamming our front door open. I ran to shut that door again and as I returned to the porch I saw a burst of searing brilliance at the corner of our road as a transformer blew.

Seeing those sparks arc halfway across the roadway made me realize just how different this social isolation would be if all of us weren’t so connected in so many other ways. Hail started clattering onto the porch and bouncing off our kitchen door.

Brilliant Sunshine

Only a few hours later, Karl and I were back out taking our daily perambulation. The only remnants of the wildness of the earlier storms were the literal logs that had broken off in the maelstrom and been strewn in the roadway in at least three places.

But the day was crystal clear and all the pollen had been wiped clean from every leaf.

Too bad I couldn’t capture in a photo the lightning of the other evening. But I did manage to ‘snag’ a shot of a different type of lightning. I call it ‘tree lightning,’ which is – well, certainly safer photograph!

Time for me to get to bed. I stayed up way too late last night, feeling sure the glitch in my server would be fixed at any moment and I’d be able to publish my post in a timely manner.

Guess I had that wrong.

But I’d be remiss if I didn’t include at least one rainbow photo from the day before yesterday. The colors were simply breathtaking. Surely the rainbows were a message that we must not give in to the sadness, worry, and fear all around us. We must dig deep and find our hope.

I can do that – at least today I can.

Full arcing (double) rainbow – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-596)