Silence

Tonight is Silent – Day 576

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Magical Twilight – Photo: L. Weikel

Tonight is Silent

Perhaps it’s because it’s a Tuesday evening and everyone who isn’t working a night shift somewhere is probably at home in bed. The night tonight is silent.

I imagine those who are just getting back to work this week, their job resurrected by their state or county ‘moving to yellow’ – or perhaps even ‘green’ (albeit not around here) – are reeling a bit from the unfamiliar chafe of resuming their old routines.

The past 11 weeks or so have proven uncomfortable for many of us. Initial binges on bread, Netflix, and puzzles actually, maybe, gave way to a gradual unraveling of the knot that’s resided in our gut for longer than we can remember. Perhaps we actually were getting the chance, for once, to sit with that knot for a bit and start picking at it. Loosening the restrictions. We began untying it ourselves.

Oh Those Retrogrades

There’s definitely a comfort to resuming old habits. The rhythm. The routine. The sense, real or imagined, that we have control over our lives. Or at least some dominion over our unique piece of real estate in what we collectively experience as our reality.

But now that we’re back to work, how does it feel? Has the extended time spent away from the mundane made the mundane feel any more or less compelling? I’m asking completely without judgment, just wondering if your job feels like a welcome relief or a much bigger oppression than it did 11 weeks ago.

With four major planets retrograde right now, our arms are being twisted to review, reassess, and remember. We’re being asked to look at what we’re doing and how we feel about doing it.

How did we feel when we thought, however fleetingly, that we might never return to our job? Does it feel as though we’re putting on an old, comfortable slipper when we return to work? Or have our feet spread out a bit, connected barefoot with the Earth while we were off, and now refuse to fit comfortably in those work shoes?

Grackle Persists

What jumped out at you in Grackle’s message last night? Are your emotions congested? Is there a situation in your life that you realize right now is keeping you stuck, trapped, or disempowered? Perhaps it isn’t your work that’s hindering your breath but another aspect of your life.

Perhaps you’re just supposed to stop talking (to yourself or everyone else) and act.

To be honest with you, I’m still reflecting on the myriad ways in which Grackle’s message dips in, pulls out, circles around, and braids an amazing tapestry of interconnection between my mundane life and the stuff the rest of the world is confronting.

The night tonight is silent. No crickets, no peepers, no bullfrogs nor owls. No foxes screaming or raindrops splattering. No wind whooshing through freshly unfurled leaves.

Just silence. My thoughts. And a willingness to dream a new reality into being.

Grackle Pair – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-535)

A Loss for Words – Day 558

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A Loss for Words

I know. With everything going on in the world, how could I possibly be at a loss for words?

It’s true though. Sometimes no words are appropriate.

I feel as though the weather outside is mirroring both my feelings and my outlook. Having just taken Sheila out for her evening ablutions, I know it’s murky. Rain poured out of the sky earlier, but now the air just seems to be still and thick. Oppressive.

Gray Day

I took a good long walk today, veering a bit off my beaten path to make it by foot all the way down to my beloved Tohickon Creek. This was before the rains came, so she seemed to be running a bit low. Her bones were showing.

No fish jumped out of the water to snag a bug just above the surface. Come to think of it, I don’t know that I saw any insects. Not a bird could be heard in the treetops, or the fields, and the only ones I actually spied in my nearly six mile walk were two red-tailed hawks sitting in a dead tree two fields away from me and four turkey vultures coasting lazily aloft.

Today felt distinctly different than yesterday, or really any of the other days this week. I’m trying to put my finger on it, and it may just have been the malaise of the weather. Could be.

Summer’s Here

Maybe it wasn’t our country realizing that summer’s unofficial start kicks off this weekend – and absolutely nothing about it is normal.

No matter how angry anyone gets, we cannot tantrum ourselves back to life the way it was six months ago. As every day ticks forward, chances grow – exponentially – that we will know someone who gets sick with Covid-19. Hopefully, they’ll recover.

I needed to be by myself today. I needed to walk. I needed to just be alone in the stillness.

If the forecast for tomorrow is to be believed, I may have to dance between raindrops if I’m to get even the shortest of walks in tomorrow. At this point, I guess, all I can do is keep my eyes open and hope.

Have a wonderful Saturday.

Hope – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-553)

Hawk’s Message Today – Day 435

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Hawk Stink Eye – Photo: L. Weikel

Hawk’s Message Today

I chose Hawk reversed on my day today – with Dog underneath.

As you may be aware, the so-called* Weikel Way of choosing Medicine Cards** interprets that as Dog adding color or somehow guiding or laying a foundation for interpreting the meaning of the primary card, in this case, Hawk reversed.

Hawk is a messenger, and of course, choosing Hawk could indicate that either I was going to act as a messenger in some way today, or I would receive a message. At least, those would be the two scenarios I would expect to arise as primary interpretation possibilities.

Perhaps at least partially due to my post last night on Silence, I’ve had a rather extraordinarily quiet day today.

Didn’t Really See It

I read out loud the text of both upright and reversed Hawk this morning, as recommended by the authors, Jamie Sams and David Carson, in the instructions. (When a card is chosen upright, however, it’s customary to read only the upright narrative.) As we not all that infrequently have happen, Karl and I both chose the same card, in this case, Hawk reversed as our primary today – so we listened and contemplated Hawk’s message twice. (Karl had Elk underneath.)

A few salient lines are as follows:

“If you have drawn Hawk reversed, it may be because you have shut down your powers of observation on some level.  If something in your life has become too painful to feel, too unbelievable to hear, or too dark to see, it is time to examine the point at which you chose to let yourself become emotionally involved, and to no longer be the observer.”

I’ll admit, there have been a couple of recent instances in my world in which each of these descriptions of circumstances could reasonably have applied. While I’ve done my best to exercise vigilance and remain the observer, that detachment is not always easy to maintain.

Nevertheless, I didn’t really see it. What was I being told to look at and, possibly, remediate?

Another clue might have been these lines:

“Freedom of flight is a privilege, and being a messenger is an honor. The responsibility for delivery of the message is up to you. Take your flight and forget about interpreting the omen your own way. Let the receiver decide what the message means. After all, unless it was sent specifically for you, you would be tampering.”

I could see how this might apply to some of the more difficult challenges I’ve encountered recently, but I still couldn’t really see it. Maybe…but it was a stretch.

So I let it go and hoped the meaning and its application to my life might reveal itself to me as the day wore on.

Regarding Dog underneath (at least in my case), I couldn’t help but imagine I was being asked to examine whether I was being loyal to either my role as a messenger or loyal to a message I was receiving (and perhaps not taking in).

Wondering Aloud

As a result of wondering aloud about these questions, I received answers, I think – in both respects – from some unexpected sources.

I’ll fill you in tomorrow, since time is running away with me and I want to deliver the message accurately. (Wink.)

*so-called by me and me alone

** affiliate link

(T-676)

Silence Abounds – Day 434

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Wolf Blanket – Photo: L. Weikel

Silence Abounds

It’s time to step back; it’s time to withdraw into the place where silence monopolizes all conversation, where silence abounds.

Sometimes silence imparts more wisdom and nuance than any number of words could possibly convey, no matter how artfully cobbled together or intricately woven.

Silence is not to be feared. I say that, and I write that; and I know it to be true. Yet no matter how much we may crave it, no matter how earnestly we may seek it out, when it arrives, we sometimes aren’t quite sure what to make of it. Or do with it.

For my part, I intend to revel in it.

Horrors or Riches

I intend to dive into the deep end of the pool of silence I’ve recently found myself encountering.

There very well may be unspeakable horrors waiting just underneath the surface. My toes, as they tread the silence, may graze the skin of these monsters, sensing ever so fleetingly the stubbled, clammy surface of half dead lies, that thing that wants only to consume voraciously, without discrimination, refusing all limits.

And there just as easily – and likely – may be untold riches waiting to be discovered in the silence. The trick is not allowing the monsters to distract or dissuade.

The trick is also never assuming you’ll always recognize the monsters. Or the riches either, for that matter.

Sometimes they’re nested within each other, making the whole process intricately more complicated and fascinating.

Silence abounds. All bets are off. I wonder what I’ll discover.

Cletus knows – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-677)

Night Sounds – Day 350

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Coyote – Photo: Wikipedia

Night Sounds    

I’m sitting here with our front door open. It’s the 27thof October, and it’s mild enough outside that I have the front door open so the swan songs of the crickets and katydids can filter in unimpeded. They were so comforting tonight that they lulled me into a premature slumber.

I’ve written many times of the joy crickets, katydids, and peepers give me, especially when they make their debut appearance of the season. But the truth is, I never tire of their voices. I love having them be the background soundtrack of my life.

Tonight’s Walk

Karl and I took advantage of the complete transformation of the weather today to take a walk this evening. A vast amount of leaves had been knocked down in the torrential rains that pelted our area this morning. So this evening’s walk in nearly 70 degree temperatures (even though the sun had already set) was all the more remarkable.

We were afforded a magnificent view of the stars, unimpeded by moonlight (since it’s a new moon today!), yet serenaded by the heartiest of crickets and katydids. The survivors of the season, the holdouts, the elders, shared their words of wisdom while we gazed upwards, marveling at the brilliance of the stars, which in a way was more akin to a winter sky in clarity than the summery temperatures would imply.

Which Reminds Me

A couple of evenings this week, we slept with our bedroom windows open. Again, these ‘tween times are my favorite. I love it when there are no mechanical noises disturbing the silence. No air conditioners, no whole house fan (although that is comforting), and no humidifier, the noise we unfortunately endure throughout the winter.

There may be three weeks or so, give or take, in the spring and then again in the fall, when the temperatures drop outside enough to cool the whole house down all by themselves, with just the windows being open. Those are the times when I usually hear the screech owls and Great Horneds. Of course, the neighbors’ two wonderful donkeys, who decide to bellow brays that emanate from the bowels of their beings and (again) sound like the Sand People from the first Star Wars movie (Episode IV).

This past Wednesday and Thursday evenings, though, Karl and I both shot up in bed at the sounds coming in our window. Well, we weren’t quite as spooked the second night, so Thursday’s experience really was just another opportunity to discern the nature of the creatures vocalizing.

Coyotes

Yep, we are almost certain the calls, yips, and just plain weird noises that woke us both nights were coyotes. I’m sure, if anyone from out west is reading this blog, you’re probably rolling your eyes and wondering why I’m making such a big deal over hearing these creatures.

That pack yipping and yowling just is not something people expect to hear in this neck of the woods. And adding a bit more of an interesting twist to the experience (which really was extraordinarily cool to begin with – albeit a bit worrisome with respect to our cat, Cletus, whom we only allow out at night, for the sake of the birds) was the fact that Karl and I each picked Coyote in one form or another (either as main card or as the undercard) within a week or so of having them show up basically in our back yard.

Hmm. Are we being told to lighten up? Embrace our playful, irreverent sides? Or is the message to beware of falling for the old stories and sabotaging ourselves in the process?

As I write this final sentence, I realize that although my front door is open and the only thing separating me from the outside is the screen door, I do not hear one single sound outside. Not a leaf rustling, not a cricket chirping. Utter and total silence. It is deafening.

(T-761)

Pondering Audiobooks – Day 330

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Hickory nut – Photo: L. Weikel

Pondering Audiobooks      

I’ve read some comments and received some feedback on a few of my posts about reading and the difficulty I sometimes experience giving myself permission to make time (or is it allow time?) to bask in immersing myself in a book. So I’ve been pondering audiobooks.

Of course, a lot of my judgment around taking time to read books stems from unkindness to myself. And here I found myself having to go back to that last sentence and insert the word ‘books’ because, in truth, I spend a great deal of time – every day – reading. I read lots and lots of things every day; plenty of articles and emails, especially.

But books? Pretty much all the books I read are for pleasure. Even when they’re memoir, the reading of which I could (and should) legitimately tell myself is related to my own work as a writer, I still harbor some deep-seated sense that because I derive such pleasure and delight from reading a good book, it’s something I should put off until all my other responsibilities are addressed.

Rather draconian attitude, I know.

Obviously, it’s a big deal for me, since I’ve written about this a number of other times already in the past 11 months. Yet I still struggle with it.

Why Do I Resist Audiobooks?

As I mentioned at the outset of this post, I’ve had some suggest that I listen to books instead of reading them. That I snag time to indulge in books being piped into my head via earphones rather than my own eyes.

There are two primary reasons that suggestion doesn’t hold out a lot of appeal to me, and I’ve actually only just this second realized that they’re actually related.

The first is reflected in this fragment of a sentence: “…I’ve had some suggest that I listen to books…” Hmm. Yes. Precisely. The keyword here is (as is oft the case with me): listen.

Listening is what I do. It’s what I provide as a service to the people who seek me out in almost any capacity. It’s arguably my best attribute as a partner, as a friend, as a family member, as a healer, as an attorney, and basically, as a person. And my listening includes reading and responding to emails and text messages as well as actual verbal exchanges (be they in person or telephonic).

Silence, to Me, Truly Is Golden

Let me be perfectly and unambiguously clear: I love what I do. I love ‘being there’ for whomever needs me. And I wouldn’t trade the privilege of doing so for the world.

But! This also means that when I am driving (not long distances), cooking, washing dishes, and mowing the lawn (probably the four activities I do primarily in silence), I really do truly revel in that silence.

I cherish  my silence.

So the thought of filling those precious moments with more listening holds no appeal.

Long Distance Driving, Though?

Driving long distances is another matter entirely. And I can totally relate to the joy of becoming immersed in a great story as the miles fly by.

Actually, I could easily make the argument that listening to an audiobook while driving long distances is actually so incredibly efficient, it makes the entire endeavor of getting from Point A to Point B a win-win.

Indeed, Karl – who travels extensively with his work – has become completely enamored with ‘Libby.’ I’m not sure if that’s an app or a service provided by local libraries, but it enables him to now devour books as voraciously via his ears as he used to when he was a kid growing up with no television. (No, he isn’t that old. His parents just didn’t believe in tv.)

The funny thing is, as a result of Karl and so many other friends and relatives blowing through tome after tome via the wonders of Audible (etc.) and extolling the virtues of audiobooks, I’m actually in the process of figuring out the best way to record Owl Medicine, so it, too, can be accessed in that manner, as well as paper and e-book.

I’m all for progress. Even if I choose to stay ‘old school’ most of the time.

(T-781)

Shhh – Day 324

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I surrender (Cletus) – Photo: L. Weikel

Shhh

At least I walked my talk this evening. I just came inside from standing on the back end of our porch, overlooking our barn, and doing the EoP Biodiversity Process. Even though I didn’t get home until quite late this evening, I made a point to remember to engage in the simple process before the clock struck midnight. I managed to get the process completed by the hair on my chinny chin chin.

It’s weird out tonight. The atmosphere got muggy and distinctly warmer. The crickets and katydids are maintaining their ‘stuck on’ calls, creating a monotonous backdrop to everything. They are so relentlessly ‘on’ that when they suddenly stop, for whatever reason, it takes a moment to realize the silence.

Delete, Delete, Delete

I just had a bunch of stuff written and I decided to delete it.  I didn’t want to even chat good-naturedly about all the appliances and other things abruptly ceasing to work around our house. It’s frustrating, and it’s one of those things that seems to happen in waves.

What brought it to the forefront of my mind was my comment about the crickets and katydids and how relentlessly they sing.

This prompted me to focus my attention upon our refrigerator. It’s been relentlessly going on and off, on and off (with an empty <<ping>> at the end of each shutoff of something) for a couple days now. It had been doing this a few months ago, but then stopped. Of course, our ice maker stopped at the same time, but Karl’s been keeping me in ice, so I barely noticed.

Well it restarted again just last week. Wednesday night, to be exact. On/off. On/off. On/off <<ping>>. I can’t tell exactly what it is, but I can’t imagine something turning off and on, over and over again, can be good for anything mechanistic. And whenever it turns on, there’s some sort of fan or something that’s turning on, so that starts whirring. Over and over again.

I managed to get an appointment with a repairman for Friday afternoon (after my appointment at the Toyota dealership). But of course…just like the crickets and katydids…

It took us a bit, but we suddenly realized that the annoying noise had ceased.

Long story short, I cancelled the appointment for Friday afternoon and we crossed our fingers that perhaps it had resolved itself on its own. (Yeah, I know. A ridiculous fantasy. But oh well.)

So Predictable

You and I both know what happened. The stupid refrigerator resumed its nonsense by Saturday night. And now – right now – I am listening to it go on/off. On/off. But now it pings three or four times in a row sometimes. Randomly.

Ah yes.

Tomorrow morning we find out if it’s a motherboard or something, or the compressor. One is fixable, the other means it’s earned a trip to the appliance graveyard.

All through writing this post, that refrigerator has been doing its thing, annoying the absolute stuff out of me. And now? As I go to hit <<publish>>?

SILENCE.

(T-787)

Listening (Retreat) Reminder – Day 249

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A Bright Spot Amongst the Gloom – Photo: L. Weikel

Listening (Retreat) Reminder                                                          

Sometimes being a one-woman-band has its downsides, and one of those is paving the road to hell on a regular basis with all my good intentions (and even better ideas).

I know I need to send out a Hoot Alert announcing my upcoming Listening Retreat at Amadell the weekend of August 9-11. I’ve become so used to ‘talking out loud’ to you, my faithful followers of my 1111 Devotion posts (have I mentioned lately how much I love and appreciate you guys?), that I tend to forget I have an entire other mailing list of people who’ve asked to be kept in the loop on my retreats and other offerings.

Need For Silence

The thing is, like pretty much everything else I do that involves writing, my Hoot Alerts require silence for me to create them. And sometimes silence is in short supply.

But lately, even if and when silence arrives on my doorstep, the hour may be so long in the tooth that I fall asleep within its embrace as soon as we connect.

I’ll blame the heat.

Lots of Heat This Coming Weekend

Speaking of the heat, it looks like we’re going to really need to take care not only of ourselves but each other over the next few days. Good grief! The heat index may potentially reach 100 to 105 tomorrow (Friday), 105 to 110 on Saturday, and 100 to 105 on Sunday.

That’s nuts. But it’s also a call to pay attention. If you know you have an elderly neighbor, especially one who lives alone, and they pop into your mind over the weekend – listen to your intuition. Check on them, even if you aren’t one to usually pay a visit.

Listen to the Call to Care

Even if they’re perfectly fine and have hunkered down in their living room with a bowl of popcorn and their tv’s remote in hand to ride out the heat wave, imagine what a ‘cool’ thought it would be to realize somebody cares enough to just check in.

I have a feeling that even the most reclusive among us yearn to know, deep down, that somebody else gives a hoot that we’re ok. That other people think about us occasionally. That people, even if they keep to themselves and don’t intrude on our daily lives beyond the occasional wave or neighborly nod, care that we’re alive and will help if we’re in need.

So yeah. I started this post out with the intention of reminding everyone of the upcoming Listening Retreat. I guess it only makes sense that I end it by suggesting that, if someone pops into your mind this weekend and you wonder if they’re doing ok or might need something, listen to yourself and your intuition. Honor it; and most importantly, act upon it.

You just might make someone’s day.

(T-862)

Time That Got Away – Day 227

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Lone Daisy in a Field of Green – Photo: L. Weikel

Time That Got Away           

Playing on the title of yesterday’s post, the Photo That Got Away, I’m backhandedly admitting that I got caught up tonight in watching the post-debate opinion-fest in ‘real time,’ which means I just looked at the time and realize I only have 29 minutes to the witching hour!

Which reminds me: I’ve been slacking off on the walking. I’ve managed at least two miles every day in the last week or so, but I’ve yearned to do more. The thing is, it takes time.

And it’s funny. I do not begrudge the time it takes me to walk four – six – eight miles. But I sometimes find myself wishing I could write or read while I walk. Those are two of my other favorite activities of mine.

Yes, I know, I could listen to an audio book while I walk. I could listen to an audio book while I mow lawn, too. But I don’t. I do not want to block out the noises of my walk with headphones or earbuds. And I truly love birdsong. I love silence as well. And yeah, I even like (I don’t love, but neither do I loathe) the drone of a 3 hp lawnmower.

I Need to Reconfigure My Time

When I’m walking by myself, the most I will do is occasionally field a phone call while I walk. But even when I do that, I find myself surprised and a little disappointed that I’ve walked a certain distance and I’m not entirely sure what I may have passed.

So I guess what I’m saying is that I wish there were more hours in the day. (I realize that’s rich coming from a person who needs eight hours of sleep.) But especially when it starts getting hot out, like today, I find myself wishing I’d gone on my walk-about in the very early hours of the morning.

I’m getting the feeling that the onset of truly sustained, summer heat is going to require me to reconfigure my timing of certain activities.

Yes, some part of my current routine needs to shift.

(T-884)

Deep Thrum – Day 217

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Tohickon Creek – Photo: L. Weikel

Deep Thrum – Old Fashioned Cool

I’m sitting here on my couch, alone in my living room. The front door is open, and that usually means I can hear the nighttime sounds of ‘outside,’ which for the most part at this time of the year consists of bullfrogs. In a month or two, crickets and katydids will join the boisterous, gravel-voiced amphibian chorus. But for a split minute, there are no bullfrogs, no sounds at all filtering through the mesh-screen door that separates me from the wilds of the darkness outside.

Even Sheila is failing to provide her usual contribution of deeply resonant snoring.

As many of you who’ve been reading my posts for a while know, I savor silence. Every single time I give myself the opportunity to bask in it, I’m better for it.

And so it was a surprise when I closed my eyes and just sat for a few moments, pondering what I would write about tonight, that I recognized a comforting, lulling sound far in the background of my consciousness. Don’t get me wrong: it’s a real sound alright. But it is such a deep part of me and what makes me feel ‘at home’ that I rarely think about it consciously.

Deep Thrum of a Different Silence

I’m speaking of the comforting deep thrum of our whole house fan. This contraption, comprised of a small motor, a belt and a couple pulleys that turn the blades of the fan, and a slatted vent that opens in the ceiling of the hallway of our second floor, sucks air into the house from outside through our screened windows and doors. It pulls the air in from outside, creating a cool breeze, and circulates that air right up into our attic.

Most of the time, except when the weather is extremely muggy or relentlessly hot (such that it barely cools off at night at all outside), our whole house fan is a wonderful way to keep us cool. We have a couple room air conditioners perched in a smattering of rooms throughout the house, but we try to minimize our use of them.

Part of our desire to rely primarily on our whole house fan is environmental. It uses a lot less electricity. And it also just feels more natural, less of a subtle stress on our constitutions by jerking our bodies from cold to hot, muggy to dry.

It’s the Memories

Trust me, though, this is not a crusade. It’s not some holier-than-thou passive aggressive attempt to shame others who use air conditioning as soon as it gets a little warm or elevate myself because I don’t. Not in the least. I’m simply realizing that I love the whole house fan because of the memories, not least being the aforementioned deep thrum.

Yes.

I grew up in a stone farmhouse that was built in 1770. For a long time in my childhood, I remember the only means of staying cool in our home was via our whole house fan. That fan, too, was mounted in the hallway ceiling of the second floor of our home and sucked all the air up into the attic. It was situated right outside my bedroom, so I grew up with that deep thrum front and center in my consciousness.

Nearly every summer night I’d be told to ‘run upstairs and put the fan on,’ and it was always sweet relief to feel the coolness of the evening cascading into our rooms and throughout the house as soon as I turned it on. Not only did I fall asleep to its rhythm, I also realized I couldn’t hear anything from downstairs (like the tv or my parents having a conversation). This could feel disconcerting. I could either be afraid something would happen to them and I wouldn’t hear it, or I could let myself feel wrapped in a cocoon of cool, quiet thrum.

Always a Choice: Fear – or Surrender and Trust

I remember consciously making that choice a bunch of times. Was I going to give in to that fear? Or was I going to surrender to the comfort of the deep thrum.

I think I was in high school before my parents bought the first couple of window air conditioners for the house. One in the kitchen and one in their bedroom were the first to arrive. Eventually one in the ‘den’ where we would watch tv. But my parents still used ‘the fan’ most of the time. Just like we do now.

It’s a peculiar comfort, I suppose. And yet installing our whole house fan was one of the very first things Karl and I did when we bought our home (which is also old – not 1770 old – but more like 1840 old). Installing central air has never even crossed our minds.

All of which brings me back to an awareness of what I sense at this very moment. I hear (and feel in my very bones) the deep thrum. The thrum that’s both a visceral reminder of my childhood and a present-day comfort, calling me to come to bed so I may savor the stream of night air being drawn in to dance across our summer sheets and keep us cool.

Good night; sleep well. And don’t forget to whisper your sweet dreams to the full moon tomorrow night.

(T-894)