Eagle on the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Unmoored

I’ll admit it: I was on edge all day. It wasn’t even truly conscious. I just felt a vague unease, an inability to settle down and focus on anything. I tried taking a break and visiting my refuge: the Tohickon Creek. Even there, I felt a bit unmoored. I even noticed and commented to myself that everything was shades of brown – and not a bird or an animal in sight.

Today, of course, is the Senate run off in Georgia. The stakes in that election are monumental. They literally stand to change the course of our country’s trajectory, and possibly even our future as a country as way we know it. That’s a huge responsibility.

And then, even just sitting at the creek, I became aware of the shenanigans afoot in Pennsylvania’s Senate. Occurring prior to tomorrow’s meeting of both chambers of Congress, I can see that this is just setting the stage for more outrageous behavior that will rip at the core of our democracy. As a Pennsylvanian, I am incensed with the behavior of our Republican led Senate.

Bereft

As I sat writing in my journal at the creek late this afternoon, I felt bereft. I want to have hope, but sometimes I just feel overwhelmed by the cynicism and disinformation being spewed into our discourse. It’s overwhelming and threatens to drown us all.

After expressing myself on my journal’s pages, I decided I needed to get back to the house and take affirmative steps to make things better in my little corner of the world. It felt like the only way forward in that moment.

As I turned my car around to return home, I groused that I felt I alone and definitely unheard. It felt strange that not even a woodpecker or duck, not even a sparrow had crossed my path as I sat beside the Tohickon, listening to her voice.

That’s when the white caught my eye. I stopped the car in the middle of the road, grabbed my phone and got out.

Yes.

The Eagle was sitting on a branch poking out of the water streaming by in a cocoa colored flow. I took a few photos, and switched to video. S/he turned, looked straight at me, and took off, extending its gigantic wings to skim upstream about four feet above the surface of the water. About four ducks freaked out and joined it in flight, acting as startled wingmen.

I felt heard.

Just In Case

I jumped back in the car and resumed my trek home. Not 1,000 feet later, just as I started to cross the bridge that spans my Tohickon, a Red-Tailed Hawk caught my attention, staring at me from a towering sycamore.

Yeah. Just in case I felt unheard – Spirit reached out to reassure me.

“Have faith,” Hawk whispered.

I do.

(T-325)