sadness

Unsettled – ND #120

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Photo: L. Weikel

Unsettled

I don’t know what’s been going on with me lately. I’m feeling profoundly unsettled, and I’m pondering what to do about it – if there’s even anything I can do.

By my reckoning, tonight’s post is my 1,231st. The initial 1111 were consecutive – not a day (or perhaps more accurately – not a 24 hour period) went by without me writing something to share with my readers. When I reached my professed goal, I indulged in a 12-day hiatus. And since then, I’ve written another 120 short posts, mostly observations of nature and contemplations on life, with a heavy emphasis on walking, puppies, clouds, and cats and a smattering of political and social observations.

Most of the time, even though I almost always think, “Ugh; I’ve nothing to write about tonight,” I’ll look at the photos I took with my iPhone and some small tale will ask to be told. Or a cloud formation will vie for my attention. Or some celestial event will either beg to be witnessed and reported on or its energetic influence on our lives offer to be contemplated.

Occasionally, tarot cards or a selection from an oracle deck might lend a perspective for us to reflect upon.

Dial Tone

Recently, however, I’ve been experiencing what I can best describe as a creative dial tone when I sit here with my fingertips poised above my keyboard.

Perhaps it’s knowing what’s going on in Ukraine that’s making me feel…mute. Or maybe it’s reading the headlines or hearing about the abhorrent attitudes and beliefs being spewed by so very many people who should know better. Or if they don’t know better, should not be in a position of leadership, power, or influence.

But I have to say, the images from Ukraine and the inner depths of darkness that must be within the soldiers who committed these acts seem to render me…bereft. The ability to perpetrate such acts upon another person has to stem from hopelessness.

What Has Happened?

It all seems to be related. And surely it must be – why else would we be seeing such harshness and cruelty toward ‘others’ all over the world? Is humanity bored? Has our species become so stagnant that, instead of joining together to care for the future of the Earth and the animals and our fellow humans, we’ve collectively just decided to say, “Screw it; let’s burn it all down?”

Again, it feels like hopelessness is the culprit. Which is interesting to me. Because I think so many of us think love is the answer. But love, while I do believe it is fundamentally the most powerful force in the Universe (all Universes), has – as a concept – become watered down and misunderstood.

No. I think hope is what we yearn for in our hearts right now.

The question is, where can we find it and how can each of us cultivate it in our lives?

Photo: L. Weikel

(T+120)

Blanket of Warm – ND #89

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Rabbit and Schnauzer Cloud Beings – Photo: L. Weikel

Blanket of Warm

Wow, was it warm out today. Holy cow. I thought I’d looked at the weather forecast a day or so ago and I could’ve sworn it wasn’t supposed to warm up significantly until a day or two from now. Apparently I was mistaken. The shock of walking out the door and expecting it to be a bit chilly, only to be whapped in the face by a blanket of warm, bordering-on-hot, air, was unsettling.

Perhaps I would’ve embraced the warmth today a little bit more had I been expecting it. Geesh, that makes me sound rigid. And perhaps even petulant.

Nevertheless, the warmth of the day inspired me to get outside and get things moving. I cleared the yard of a bunch of sticks and broken tree limbs. I tell myself they’re fodder for the next fire we have, hoping having kindling at the ready will encourage more of them.

Even the Clouds

Even the clouds got in on the act today. I was delighted to see a very obvious gigantic and ferocious rabbit bantering playfully with a puppy right before my eyes. Indeed – to my eye – the puppy might even be a Schnauzer.

By the time I got ‘round to Princess, Middle, and Liddle this evening, they’d apparently bedded down for the night. It was dark out and not a snuffle nor a snort was heard emanating from their enclosure. Guess I’ll have to catch them tomorrow.

The Best Part

But by far the best part of tonight’s walk was the magnificent chorus of tree frogs and peepers. They’re definitely erupting from the mud early this year – in fact, I’m pretty sure they first started singing on the last day of February! That just seems way too early.

I sometimes think the ones that are my favorite are not the ones that sound brave or never, ever tire. The peepers I like the best are the ones that have extremely deep and gravelly voices. I’ve conjured images of them in my mind that undoubtedly have nothing in common with what they actually look like.

They do seem to be getting louder and louder each night, though. They were nearly deafening tonight and could be heard at least a half mile away.

I wonder if they have peepers in Ukraine?  If they do, do they know enough to be quiet at critical moments? Or are they simply blasted out by the overwhelming noise of war?

I saw a terribly sad story of a young woman who was killed last night. She was helping deliver supplies to a dog shelter.

All these heartrending stories of lives disrupted as a result of a deranged man who wants what he wants and is willing to tell lies and sacrifice the lives of millions to get it. I can’t go there tonight.

I’d rather listen to peepers and see Cloud Beings masquerading as rabbits and puppies.

(T+89)

Roar – Day 1049

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Roar of the Whitewater – Photo: L. Weikel

Roar

Once I finally crossed everything off my list today, I finally allowed myself to sit on a massive slab in the middle of the creek. The volume of water coursing downstream was significantly less than yesterday, yet its roar continues to be deafening.

Every once in a while it’s deeply satisfying to find one’s self ensconced in the midst of so much noise. There’s no easy way to discern if anyone is trying to get your attention. In fact, unless movement catches your eye, it’s almost impossible to know whether anyone else is even around you. Instead, there’s this ‘white (water) noise’ pouring into your ears.

Layers of Flow – Photo: L. Weikel

It Takes Me a While

It actually takes me a while before I fully settle down and allow myself to just be with the relentless sound of the creek.

I eventually succeeded, but now I’m finding myself feeling like I left myself at the creek. I’m profoundly tired. Tired right down to my bones. It’s probably all the emotional upheaval of the past week.

It’s hard to believe it was only last week at this time when I heard a noise erupt from Spartacus that I thought was a massive and very peculiar sounding fart – but which I now strongly suspect was something bursting inside him.

It’s thoughts like these that are curiously similar to the swirls and eddies of the creek that I witnessed quite close to where I was sitting. If I let myself dwell too long on that weird sound then my feelings get stuck in a shallow little vortex that is hard to escape.

And that’s when I realize once more how brilliant it is to just succumb to Mother Earth’s healing ministrations.

She makes the creek loud enough to drown out the thoughts on purpose.

And when I re-emerge from my perch on the slab, I feel different.

Swirls and Eddies – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-62)

Grief Shared – Day 685

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Sheila’s Fire – Photo: L. Weikel

Grief Shared

You know, there’s a lot of ugly, divisive, mean-spirited stuff playing out every day. It’s enough to make any of us despair over the state of humanity. And while I know in my heart that innumerable examples of kindness and love are happening all over the world as well, it’s a rare gift to experience it directly. What I experienced at the hands of all of you is proof of the proverb, “Grief shared is halved; while joy shared is doubled.”

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the many comments on FB I received about yesterday’s post on my family’s loss of our precious Boston Terrier, Sheila.

I could tell almost all of you have loved a pet fiercely and know the searing pain that rips through us when we lose them. Is the pain really halved? Perhaps not. But it is, without question, soothed. The love of others and receiving their understanding and compassion is literally a balm to the soul.

So thank you.

And while the simple statement of thanks feels inadequate, really, to express appreciation for that balm, we will soon have an opportunity to test out the truth of the corollary to the adage. Perhaps we’ll be in a better position to assess the accuracy by then.

Amazing Stories

Of course, what would a significant event in my life be like if I didn’t also experience a bit of magic that would generate some amazing stories? I will probably share them in the coming days because part of my purpose here is – in fact – to share the magic that is our lives, to help us remember

But I have to admit to you: I am emotionally exhausted. I’m also physically ready for bed in the worst way because I’ve been awake since around 4:00 a.m., which is when Sheila decided she was going to give me a bit of a talking-to.

Luckily, I wrote it down, even though at the time I felt confident I would remember it all easily. Thank goodness I listened to my own advice. Like a dream, it could easily have slipped away had I not honored it. And then…the rest of the magic that unfolded in the day wouldn’t have made nearly as much sense.

Sheila’s Burial and Sacred Fire

Early this evening we buried Sheila. Karl did a yeoman’s job of digging a hole some 4’ by 1’ by 2’ deep, where we could place her facing toward our home so she can keep a guardian’s eye out over us. Our daughter-in-law Tiffany attended (diligently maintaining safe and appropriate distance), as did Sage and Sarah from Boston (via FaceTime). Spartacus was also in attendance.

We sent off our sweet Sheila with some snacks for the journey, including three dried praying mantises which I’d scraped off the road just a few days ago on a walk. I’d forgotten to give them to her when I got home that evening, so I buried them with her. We also gave her a couple of her favorite dog treats and wrapped her in one of her wolf blankets. We also included a lot of sage, which of course was significant on many levels.

Afterward, we had a sacred fire to honor and give thanks for her life and her irreplaceable contribution to the love and light of our family.

A photo of the flames is at the top of this post. Tell me you think this is any ordinary fire.

Spartacus Snuggling All Day – Photo: L. Weikel

Thank you, again, from the bottom of my heart. Your love for me (and all of my family) and your willingness to share our grief and sorrow is extraordinary.

(T-426)

A Cosmic Reminder – Day Eighty Nine

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A “Nothing” – (c) Karl D. Weikel

A Cosmic Reminder 

Life is weird.

It’s just strange how you can be going along, living your life, basically minding your own business and doing your best to be as conscious as possible, when – thwack!– you get hit upside the head and challenged to hold your center.

That happened to me today.

And it wasn’t until I got home this evening that I felt the repercussions and even fully realized I’d received a spiritual thwack! upside the head – a cosmic reminder of why I engage in the discipline and commitment of my 1111 Devotion.

An Unexpected Flood of Sadness

Come to think of it, I was hit with the overwhelming wave of emptiness as I was driving home from my session. I told myself it was because I hadn’t eaten all day, but I knew that didn’t ring true. It’s not an unusual occurrence for me not to eat on days I see clients, and it doesn’t bother me at all. The truth was, I was missing Karl. And it was creating a pit-in-the-center-of-my-chest kind of sadness.

The short explanation is that my client had a connection to my son Karl that they didn’t even realize. When the appointment was initially set up, I’d had this vague tickle at the back of my mind. In the minutes before they arrived for their appointment, I literally wrote in my journal, “Why does that name sound familiar to me?”

I whipped out my phone and searched the name in my email, just to see if perhaps I’d seen this person a long, long time ago, perhaps in another context, unrelated to my shamanic practice. Maybe as their lawyer?

Nope. No record.

Realizing the Connection

There was no recognition on either of our parts when they arrived. They didn’t even mention that my name sounded familiar, so I shushed myself, opened Sacred Space, and began the session.

It didn’t take long before I realized that their son and Karl had had a strong bond back in high school. Indeed, so strong that, the last time Karl was home, the final Christmas and New Year’s holidays he spent in Pennsylvania, indeed, on Earth, he’d made a point of getting together with this friend specifically to give him permission to imitate Karl’s artwork – a unique art form he’d developed and honed since elementary school and eventually won awards for in high school, as well as in independent juried art shows.

An Uncommon Generosity of Spirit

I’d always wondered why Karl went out of his way to give this friend his ‘blessing,’ so to speak. I’d been shocked when he told me he intended to do it; and was even more shocked when he followed through with it. Perhaps on some deep level, both of us knew his time was growing short. Did he know? Did I know? It’s impossible for me to answer.

It was such a profoundly magnanimous gesture – loving and kind and generous. Made even more so because he’d only discovered through others that his art was being copied by this friend; his friend hadn’t disclosed it himself.

So why would he do that, I wondered. Why would he make it OK to be copied, imitated?

I remember standing in the kitchen and asking Karl, “Why?”

And I distinctly remember him shrugging and saying, “It doesn’t really matter in the end, Mom.” I just looked at him, struggling to keep myself from saying all the things that shrieked in my mind. Of course it mattered, I wanted to say.

Non-attachment and Serenity

“He knows,” Karl continued. “And I want him to know I know. But I also want him to know I give him permission.”

How could I argue with that? Karl’s attitude was intensely serene and – there are those words again – generous; magnanimous.

It was not unlike how I’d felt in Ann Arbor the year before, when I watched him give away to a homeless person the food we’d wrapped for him to take on the long bus ride back to California.

His non-attachment and serenity were profound. And I have to admit, I struggled to find them in my own heart. I wanted to feel ok about it; it was his art, after all. His talent and imagination. His vision.

In the End…

I was sad to notice that very same friend failed to come to Karl’s Gathering, held only two weeks after his death. Their meeting had occurred only ten months earlier. Surely it gave him pause?

And I was sad to realize my client didn’t even recognize his name. It was as if they’d never been friends.

I miss Karl. I miss his spirit. And most of all, I don’t want him to disappear.

Which reminds me of the entire point behind my 1111 Devotion.

(T-1022)

“Disappearing” – Photo by L. Weikel

Sudden Sadness – Day Fourteen (T-1097)

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 6 Comments

 

Sudden Sadness

 

Karl and I just safely arrived home from Massachusetts a short while ago.

Knowing I needed to write my post for the day, I logged onto my laptop. (My MacBook Air, for those of you who might be wondering. I will deal with Dell tomorrow.)

I clicked on Face Book almost without thinking, and the very first post that showed up on my feed was something from a dear friend from high school.

Her Use of the Past Tense Said It All

As soon as I started reading it, I noticed her use of past tense when referring to her brother, giving me a terrible, hollow feeling in my heart.

I didn’t know Mike – not really. He was a presence, but I was not; so he didn’t bother with me – as is not uncommon with older brothers in general, especially when they’re somewhat close in age, but just out of range, so to speak. But I knew ‘of’ him, and over the course of the recent years of FB, I’d gotten a taste of his sense of humor and loveable-bearness.

But Ann’s use of the past tense, and her description of the past two weeks – yes, only TWO WEEKS – before losing him this morning to an apparently lightning-swift or long undiagnosed cancer is stunning and heartbreaking.

And so I am once again left wanting to comfort, to console, to make sense of how devastatingly quickly any of our lives can change through loss or end.

I am glad for him that he did not linger or suffer. And I am beyond sad for the grief and loss of my dear friend Ann and her sister Jane.