A few days ago I made a discovery that literally made me yelp with joy. Our local farmer is raising pigs again. Seriously: just look at this face!
It seems like it’s been a very long time since our walks were last graced with these curious creatures. A search of my posts indicates it’s been a good two years since I wrote about them. So it’s no wonder my heart skipped a beat when I beheld their adorable faces again.
It’s been a very long time since any animals have resided within the fencing surrounding this gorgeous tract of land. With the absence of the four-leggeds that used to live there, the grasses have grown tall, thick, and lush. When I first detected movement on the far side of the small pen within the vast enclosure, I dismissed it as wishful thinking.
Definitely Sentient
I think what bowls me over the most about pigs is their friendliness. While I adore the sheep that have grown up within these confines, their personalities overall pale in comparison to the pigs’. It’s undeniable.
The first time I spotted them last week and realized Teddy-the-Farmer was raising pigs again, I called out in my customary sing-song voice that I reserve for babies and small animals. (OK, I’ll admit, I use the voice on toddlers and not-so-small animals, too.) I could see them reacting. The largest seemed to lift her head and grunted, “Huh? What’s that? You talkin’ to me?” She immediately headed over toward me, not caring one whit that Spartacus was with me.
I saw a second one peek at us from around the corner of the pen. A third rambled out of the pen as if awakened from a long winter’s nap.
The three of them chatted with us for a few minutes. I felt bad that I had nothing to give them in that moment and hoped they wouldn’t hold it against us.
Prancing Passel
They didn’t. The next time we saw them, which was a few days later, I couldn’t see any of them as we climbed the hill. I called out to them in my usual way and didn’t the three of them come tearing out of their pen?
Honestly, they appeared to prance as they made their way happily over to see us. The joy they bring is almost too much to bear.
As mentioned yesterday, in yet another example of reaping rewards for simply paying attention to the details of life that surround me, beyond catching sight of the flourishing bleeding hearts, I also noticed my tulips performing sun salutations.
The flat-out, open-hearted nature of this tulip bowled me over when I saw it. I took the photo above at 12:34 p.m., when the sun was directly overhead. This particular specimen could not have been more unabashed in its eagerness to soak up every last drop of solar nectar. Moments after I took the photo, I’ll admit, I sat on the porch and just stared at it. I drank in the exquisite harmony and balance of the petals; the way the patterns repeat themselves over and over again. Almost mesmerizingly, I see a plethora of sixes. The brilliant yellow stamens are half a six, but the rest of the flower is a blatant celebration of sixes. Numerologically, sixes can represent exuberance.
I dare you to look at that tulip and not feel joy stirring in your heart. Joy simply at being able to witness such a precisely-wrought piece of art created from a bulb that wintered underground throughout this long, cold, snowy winter.
Long Gone
When I spied this exaltation to spring, and saw its petals stretched out far and wide, I honestly thought I was witnessing its greatest expression of its tulip-hood. The feeling I got (and still get) when I immerse myself in the beauty of the patterns contained within the face of this flower is that it spent it all. This flower didn’t hold back one iota of energy when it flung its six petals out in an ecstatic embrace of the sun.
I didn’t think it could recover itself in time to live, and rejoice in, another day. I thought she’d be long gone within a day.
Imagine my surprise, then, when I set off to take my walk last night and glanced in the direction of my exuberant tulip, only to find this:
Child’s Pose Following Sun Salutations – Photo: L. Weikel
Boundaries
Wow! She was closed up tighter than a drum! What a worthwhile example of both being in the moment and setting boundaries.
It’s weird, I know. Don’t I know tulips aren’t the type of flower that just bloom one day and then have their petals fall off the next? Of course I know that. But I’ve certainly not been as aware of the cellular sentience of these beings as I was in that moment. For whatever reason, it hit home. These tulips embrace their sustenance with zeal and close up shop at the end of the day to preserve all they’ve gathered.
There’s no debate; no waffling. Life is lived with gusto and boundaries are set to protect itself and the life force coursing through it.
And my day was made all the richer for it because I paid attention.
Finally
I ran across a tree tonight as I took a walk following the announcement of the verdict in the trial of Derek Chauvin for the murder of George Floyd last year. I’ve walked past this tree a bazillion times before. But I’ve never seen it look quite so much like a Black goddess with arms upraised in victory and celebration as it did tonight.
Victory – Accountability – A Step Toward Justice – Photo: L. Weikel
Our walk late this afternoon yielded a remarkable observation that just begged to be photographed and shared. A branch of a tree had fallen on one of the back roads we travel when we go on our longer ‘walkabout.’ It obviously had been cut with a chainsaw and tossed on the berm to decay. While this is a relatively common occurrence, the mystery evoked by the natural hieroglyphics lurking under its bark was a welcome addition to our day.
Yes, of course. We know the markings are the result of insects living beneath the bark. But it doesn’t take a deep dive into the ocean of whimsy to see the designs created by these creatures resemble early efforts by humans to convey thoughts, ideas, and perhaps emotions as well.
I guess the markings probably resemble more the musings of our most ancient ancestors (those I referenced in my recent post about a Cloud Horse) – not necessarily the further evolved ideas of the ancient Egyptians. Nevertheless, one could definitely ‘read’ meaning into this discovery.
Signs and Symbols – Photo: L. Weikel
Intuition or Baloney?
I’m not positing that we drew any conclusions from our discovery today, beyond the fact that the natural world creates works of beauty filled with symbols recognized by humans for millennia.
And even though we didn’t ‘read’ anything into the figures and faces, spirals and meandering paths we could see as plain as day etched into this chunk of wood, I’m not reluctant to say we could have. We didn’t see messages or interpret signs because we hadn’t asked a question. We weren’t seeking answers to anything in particular.
Or maybe we were – and maybe we received exactly what we needed. Maybe we were yearning for a flash of creativity from Mother Earth or the creatures with whom we share our environment. Perhaps we needed to see some freeform artwork that would send our own creative juices into a state of demanding expression instead of always being happy to step aside for more practical and logical endeavors.
Photo: L. Weikel
Permission
When we give ourselves permission to imagine we unleash a whirlwind of potential.
Maybe that’s why, as a culture, we tend to instill in ourselves and our children (because it was instilled in us) a disdain for embracing our intuition. Actually, beyond disdain, it actually feels like a fear of embracing our ability to tap into the Unseen. There’s an incredible amount of power inherent in imagination, creativity, and making intuitive connections to signs, symbols, and patterns in our lives.
What happens when we give ourselves license to truly engage our imaginations? To read the patterns engraved in wood by insects that may have died months or years ago? Could it be possible that there is a web of connection between all beings we encounter – between us and everything else in our world?
Is it be possible that we can access insight and guidance from beings we arrogantly deem lack sentience?
It makes me wonder if the message brought by our natural hieroglyphics was to provoke a musing on precisely these questions.
Walking this evening in the brilliant clarity of late fall atmosphere, I noticed the simple beauty of this tree growing alongside the road. Both branches part of the same trunk, I couldn’t help but notice how drastically different were the paths they were growing along.
One seemingly chose to take the straight up path, while the other chose the scenic route.
The stark difference in the appearance of these branches brought me up short. I’m not even sure why. Perhaps because they’re growing from the same trunk and it would at least appear from my perspective that they haven’t been exposed to substantial differences in environmental stresses.
So what in the world would cause one to go all swirly and creative, while its sibling just buckled down and got to work at the business of reaching for the sky?
Nature vs. Nurture
If these branches were human, we might attribute the differences in their ‘personalities’ to…what? Their nature? Their inherent souls, which even if their bodies were identical would still encourage development of their own unique, creative characteristics?
Is that possible with trees? Could it be that each branch of this tree has its own way of reaching for the sun? Might the curly branch be yearning for its individual expression along the same lines as Jonathan Livingston Seagull* did, while the straight branch just did what was expected?
These are the paths my mind wanders sometimes takes when we walk in darkness.
Judging from the faces appearing in the clouds as torrential rains approached us earlier tonight, I’d say we’re being visited by some distinctly opinionated wind spirits.
I can’t, and am not going to, venture to guess what messages these wind beings may be bringing us, but I do think it would be wise to heed them if we can. It’s possible they’re bringing each of us our own distinct message.
A Storm “Blowing” In – Photo: L. Weikel
For instance, you may look at the photos accompanying this post and think, “Of course I recognize the West Wind swooping down to clear away my fearful thoughts.” Meanwhile your neighbor may look at that very same photo and sense, “I need to have faith. I see and know that benevolence is looking down on me. I may be buffeted now, but this will pass.”
And then there’s the odd rectangular clouds that also preceded the wild and woolly torrential rains that hit us about ten minutes after I took these photos.
I have a couple of gut-level senses of what that cloud formation might be saying. But I’ll leave you each to your own interpretations.
Photo: L. Weikel
Working With the Winds
I think I can safely say that I am a middle-of-the-road person when it comes to oracles and interpreting signs and omens. What I mean by that is that I don’t make it a habit to rely solely on other people to interpret the messages that cross my path or come directly to me. But neither do I eschew the guidance or wisdom tools available to us that are designed to help us interpret our encounters with the numinous.
That’s one of the reasons I like to quote the books provided by authors of certain oracles or tarot decks. Some interpretations feel especially ‘tuned in’ to either the cards themselves – or – perhaps it’s just that they have similar sensibilities as I and so tune into the messages and articulate them in ways that feel natural to me.
Whatever it is, I like to approach discernment of messages in a balanced manner. I trust both my own intuition as well as the interpretations of others, provided they resonate with both my head and my heart.
Winds of Spirit
One unique and distinctive aid to helping us interpret the messages of the Winds in particular is a book written by a very dear friend of mine, Renee Baribeau. Her book is Winds of Spirit, Ancient Wisdom Tools for Navigating Relationships, Health, and the Divining*. This book is a valuable and unique addition to the field of augury and interpretation, and provides a wonderful compendium of Wind Beings that have been known to cultures across the world for eons.
I make no secret of my approach to the world, which is that there is sentience in everything. The Winds of the world have waited a long time for people to wake up to the fact that they are capable of being in relationship with us. This book provides us with ideas on how to enter into conversations with the Winds. Those chit chats could change your life.
Yesterday Karl and I made a point of taking our walk a little later than the day before, when we knew we would have the best chance to witness the rise of the vaunted Super Pink Moon. We walked along one of the roads near our home that meanders through several fields belonging to a horse farm that sits atop a ridge. It’s a vast expanse of land and is a great place to observe all sorts of celestial events. It’s one of my favorite ‘go-to’ places when meteor showers, eclipses, and other such happenings are taking place in the night sky, although this turned out to be a somewhat strange evening.
As we waited for the moon to rise, we were distracted and intrigued by some unique cloud formations. Most noticeable were a handful of lenticular clouds that almost seemed to be moving ‘against the grain’ of the greater cloudbank behind them.
UFO clouds 2 – Photo: L. Weikel
Missing Time
The funny thing is, we were both hell bent on catching a glimpse of the moon rise, and by that I mean we wanted to catch sight of it as it rose above the horizon, since we knew it was supposed to be the largest ‘super moon’ of 2020. As a result, we were fixated on constantly checking the horizon line.
Meanwhile, these lenticular clouds were quite distracting – at least to me. The clouds seemed to be moving in relation to one another, in a more conscious than usual manner. I’m not entirely sure why they kept drawing my attention, but they did. And it felt as though they were communicating with each other. It was an odd feeling.
Photo: L. Weikel
Eventually, though, we decided that perhaps there was more of an overcast pall to the horizon than appeared to our eyes. So we decided to resume our walk, after having hung out at this spot for a good 20-25 minutes. As we started resuming our trek, one of the horses came galloping across the field toward us. I’d brought a carrot just in case, and walked back toward where the mare was now standing, grazing nonchalantly, pretending she didn’t really want any attention.
I called to the beautiful creature, holding out the carrot, when all of a sudden she arched her tail and took off like a shot, tearing across the field away from me like she was being chased by the devil.
All in all, an odd reaction that was completely unexpected.
I left the carrot inside the fence and caught up with Karl and the pups. We continued walking for about five minutes when – all of a sudden – I glanced to my left and there she was: Grandmother Moon in all her full, Super Pink glory, a beacon of glowing orange gorgeousness already a substantial distance above the horizon.
Karl and I just marveled at her magnificence. How in the world had we missed her slipping above the horizon?
It was as if we’d lost almost an hour of time. Between the odd clouds, the spooked horse, and the lost span of time between the moon rising above the horizon to when she became obvious to us, it just didn’t feel as though it added up quite right.
Finale
And as a grand finale last evening, after writing and publishing my post, I went outside with Sheila to give her one last opportunity to tinkle before bed. The sky was bright, and I knew where the moon should be – but once again, she was nowhere to be seen. The night sky was so uniform in appearance that it didn’t even appear to be cloudy. But it had to be. There were no stars. No moon in sight. And yet, as I said, it was ‘bright.’ Sheila, oddly, turned right around without doing a thing and made a bee-line for the door, as if to say, “Nope. Not peeing. Let’s get outta here.” (That’s significant for her, since she’s always good for a tinkle.)
We immediately went upstairs and got into bed. I read for about ten minutes and, falling asleep sitting up, turned my light out. It couldn’t have been half an hour later when I was awakened by flashes of really bright light. No thunder. Just lights. Lighting up our room. My first thoughts were of ambulances, weirdly, or search lights. But then I realized it was lightning – yet it seemed to be coming in all four of our bedroom windows. It was as if we were surrounded by lightning. And there was no thunder. I woke Karl briefly so he could at least fleetingly verify my perceptions.
Suddenly, rain pelted the roof. But the lightning didn’t relent. The flashing was almost kaleidoscopic. Yet somehow, in the midst of all of this, I just ‘decided’ to just go back to sleep.
The whole experience qualified as a very strange evening. And when I awakened, I could feel I’d slept hard – and deeply. It took a long while and a couple cups of coffee to feel fully ‘in’ my body.
Super Pink Moon w/cloud halo – Photo: L.Weikel
**And another layer of strangeness? Tonight’s post was the FIRST post in 514 days that I was unable to get published before I went to bed. My website’s server was down for over THIRTEEN HOURS.
The brilliance of the emerald moss caught my attention and insisted I honor it by sharing its image. Truly, it called to me and when I say it insisted, I mean it. I sensed a desire to have its beauty shared.
Semi-Mindful?
So I guess I could claim that I was being semi-mindful as I strolled through the woods. I had a destination in mind, but I was at least conscious enough of my surroundings to appreciate the lush moss blanket and the intricate pattern of leaves splayed across it.
At least I heard the call for attention.
But now, as I look at this photo more closely, I’m starting to wonder just who it was that called me to stop and pay attention to this particular tree at this particular moment.
Are those eyes? Photo – L. Weikel
Eyes Looking Back
As I shushed forward through the piles of gold and brown leaves, I was called back to pay specific attention to this tree, this moss, this small but obvious portal into the darkness of Mother Earth. But when I look more closely at this snapshot of a moment in time, a blink of an eye, I see something staring back at me.
I peer into the tiny entrance at the heart of this tree and I realize…I’m not alone.
What’s behind the eyes I see staring back at me from inside the tree? Instead of fearing me, did it energetically reach out and snag me, pulling me back to engage in some energetic exchange? Was there a challenge issued from within this hollow, a call to stop and witness its presence?
Are the Beings that usually remain invisible to us humans demanding to be Seen and perhaps Heard in these volatile times?
