solitude

Hot and Humid Week – Day 1006

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
IX – Hermit – Tarot of the Crone by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince

Hot and Humid Week

Here’s something pretty interesting that just happened. As I sat down to write this evening, I felt a nudge to pull a card from Ellen Lorenzi-Prince’s Tarot of the Crone deck. It’s been an oppressively hot and humid week, and weather like this is exhausting in and of itself. Add to that any personally stressful or tough emotional stuff one might be ‘weathering’ and inspiration might best be sought outside of oneself.

I’ve mentioned before that I love this deck and yet I haven’t worked with it for a while. As with anything, I go through spates of working with one deck or another. There are about six decks I own that I go back to again and again. Others, while they may look good or have cool artwork or imagery, just never seem to click into a deep, reliable groove with me. I tend to cultivate relationships with the decks that speak to me.

Looks Familiar

So when I chose a card (and looked at the bottom card for context) for tonight’s post, I thought it looked familiar. In fact, it felt like the pair, working in tandem, felt familiar.

Doing a quick search I was surprised (but not surprised) to see that I’d chosen this exact same PAIR of cards back on June 9th. Only I chose the Hermit on top (as the main card) this time, with the 9 of Cups providing the ‘healing’ foundation.

Well, here we are. Last time, I chose the 9 of Cups as the main card for us to focus upon. Healing. How appropriate. With the Hermit card underneath providing the foundation upon which to heal.

This time it would appear this Hermit/Wise Woman has us continuing to consciously separate ourselves for a time from the intensity and insanity of society. Hmmm. Wisdom indeed.

One interesting synchronicity I discovered when I read my post from the last time these cards appeared together? I chose them during the last oppressive heat wave we endured – the one that started our summer ‘early.’ Tarot decks are comprised of 78 cards and I tend to shuffle relentlessly and bordering on the obsessive. So their appearance in reverse positions is…notable. And my title in that post? “Our Collective Feelings.”

Here are the images and passages of those two cards again. Apparently they require our considered reflection yet again:

IX – Hermit

“I speak

No one listens

But I know what I know

The Hermit is a bag lady rejected by and rejecting comfortable society. She stands on the street of a faceless city, her own face exposed and eloquent. Her dress is a blue that recalls the depths of ocean and sky and the boundlessness that lies beyond their shallow edges. She carries her bags in both hands because she’s learned that balance gives her endurance. She is alone but her isolation is the result not the goal of her journey. Where she goes, others cannot follow. She seeks the mystery at the core of life, at the core of herself. She looks for the magic that exists even in the most artificial environment. She seeks answers to questions that have not yet been born.
The Hermit says look to yourself for the answers, look into the worlds inside you and the uncharted realms within, behind and beyond the ordinary. There are secrets only you are meant to discover and truths only you can divine.”

9 of Cups – Tarot of the Crone by Ellen Lorenzi-Prince

Nine of Cups ~ Healing

“I am the Many and One

I am whole who has been broken

I am the power of redemption

I am the renewal of creation

Two unusual beings, with ribbons of red life spiraling through the serene lavender of their skin-like cloaks, touch and twist and merge in the creation of something wonderful, whole and new. The Nine of Cups represents healing of the heart and soul: when what has been separated comes together again, when feeling flows free and true, when you are aligned with your greatest good, when you become more than you believed you could. The authenticity of your self is not subsumed by bonds with others, but is enhanced through acting with integrity and love.”

(T-105)

All’s Quiet – Day 407

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Rainbow – Photo: L. Weikel

All’s Quiet    

I’m sitting here in the silence of my living room (if you don’t count the snoring of Sheila and Precious) – and it is exquisitely delicious.

Karl and I took a walk tonight, once I finally got home from doing some errands. The sky had a smattering of clouds, but we could still see a vast array of stars splashed from one horizon to the other. What we really noticed the most, though, was how quiet everything was.

It almost felt as though we were walking during a snowstorm. You know, that muffled silence that always accompanies falling or freshly fallen snow? In fact, I just read something about that the other day. The muffling of ambient noise is attributed to the fluffiness of the snow, I think – the air trapped between the flakes.

I don’t know; I can’t really remember. It doesn’t actually matter, since snow was not the cause of the quiet tonight. Perhaps it was the sound of people starting to slow down, to take a breather from the inevitable frantic pace that precedes this time of year in particular.

What We Really Want

It’s easy to pick on the materialism of our society and criticize the obligation so many people feel to give gifts to ‘everyone on their list.’ We’re a consumptive society. It’s been ingrained in us all our lives that the way to show someone you care about or love them is to buy them something. And even worse is when people equate the depth of the love to the cost of the gifts.

We’re bombarded from every direction with messages barking at us that this widget or that doodad will make the difference. We’ll know we’re loved or, perhaps even more importantly, we’ll know we’ve made it (or at least tell ourselves we have) if we can give that impressive doodad. And if we can’t? Well. Many feel an overwhelming desire to fake it – and there are lots of ways to fake it.

But I think the real burden is the desire to express heartfelt caring and not knowing, really, how to give that feeling. How do we go about bringing light into someone’s life?

Maybe it’s by sitting quietly and figuring out what would bring light into our own life. Maybe it’s by listening to what our heart is saying over and over and over again – hoping that one day we’ll actually stop and listen.

Time

As we were walking in the starlight this evening, Karl and I talked yet again about having – or, rather, not having – gifts to give each other this year. Neither one of us wants for anything. We are surrounded by an abundance of comfort; indeed, we have too many ‘things,’ if we’re honest. And we have zero desire to buy stuff just because – whether it’s because we don’t want to or because it’s expected.

We don’t need new clothes. In truth, we don’t need anything that can be bought in a store (besides groceries; we do love to eat). Even the most exotic boutique of hand-crafted amazingness would fail to provide the gift that is most precious to both of us. And that is time. Time together. Time to create. Time to read. Time to listen to music. Time to feed our souls. Time to allow ourselves to stop thinking about selling or buying or going to meetings or paying the bills, but instead to stop thinking altogether.

Our greatest gift to each other is making – and taking – time to walk under the stars and listen to the silence. Time to notice and appreciate the quiet, together.

(T-704)

Chestnut Resurrection – Day 314

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Quercus Alba, White Oak (Matson’s Woods) – Photo: L. Weikel

Chestnut Resurrection

A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to spend some quality time, in solitude, on the banks (and actually in the midst) of my beloved Tohickon Creek.

During those several days, I took a deep dive into the novel The Overstory, by Richard Powers. And oh my goodness, did I revel not only in the solitude but also in the actual story of The Overstory, which had as the centering thread woven throughout the lives of all of its characters: TREES.

The first character to whom we’re introduced in the book is connected to and influenced by the American Chestnut. And while I’m sure I’d heard about the blight that decimated this tree in the early 1900’s, I did not fully comprehend the devastation until I read this book.

Another bit of character development in The Overstory has to do with old growth forests.

An Invitation

Thus, when I received, on one of the very days I was immersing myself in reading The Overstory, an email advertising a local program focusing upon a small patch of old growth forest right here in neighboring Northampton County, I jumped on it. (It seemed like a pretty fascinating coincidence of awareness and timing.)

Today was that program and dedication.

Matson’s Woods

Briefly, I learned that there is a small wooded area known as Matson’s Woods in Northampton County, in the Louise Moore Park, which is part of the Northampton County Park System. Due to the age of the trees found on this relatively small tract of land, it has been nominated for registry in the Old-Growth Forest Network.

When we walked the trail this morning, even though I believe the ‘woods’ comprise only approximately 7 acres or so, and there is development surrounding much of the Louise Moore Park, there nevertheless was a profoundly noticeable shift in energy when we walked amongst these grandmother and grandfather beings, the eldest and tallest being Quercus Alba or White Oak.

Do you see the face? – White Oak – Photo: L. Weikel

Most noticeably, a deep sense of quiet emanated from the forest floor. This sense was remarkable and unmistakable, and I noticed that the entire group immediately lowered their voices to a whisper. Without even realizing it consciously, we all acted as if we’d entered a cathedral.

Chestnut Resurrection

While I reveled in the opportunity to walk in the presence of these elder statesmen, I have to admit, I was very excited to hear about the apparent breakthrough in reclaiming the American Chestnut.

Before entering Matson’s Woods, we approached a hillock upon which six wire cages containing leafy green seedlings were arranged roughly in a circle. It was explained to us that research had yielded what forest scientists are hoping will permit a resurrection, in a sense, of the American Chestnut.

It’s been discovered that a single gene associated with wheat (I don’t know the specifics), if introduced to the genome of the American Chestnut, yields offspring that are resistant to the blight that decimated billions of these trees in the last century.

I believe it is the intention of the arborists in charge of this project to plant an American Chestnut that has received one of these blight resistant genes in the center of the circle of seedlings. When they mate, chestnuts produced should result in seedlings that are resistant to the blight.

I’m including at the end of this post a photo of the flyer that gives an email address for Allen Nichols (fajknichols.75@gmail.com) should you wish to request nuts and/or seedlings in order to plant a grove of chestnut trees on your property.

Trees Are Integral to the Health of Our Planet

I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to celebrate the dedication of Matson’s Woods into the Old Growth Forest Network and to learn about the hope associated with a blight resistant American Chestnut.

We’re definitely hoping to plant some new seedlings!

(T-797)

Solitude’s Companions – Day 296

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Water snake – Photo: L. Weikel

Solitude’s Companions       

If you read my post from last night, you know that I spent many consecutive hours yesterday immersed in a captivating novel that uniquely weaves together the lives of trees and humans. Naturally, given my love affair with nature and Pachamama (a Quechua word for Mother Earth – and more), I’m loving it.

It is no wonder the book, The Overstory, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize. It’s an amazing feat of complex storytelling – and I’m saying this while remaining extremely aware of the fact that I’m only half way through it.

What you didn’t know is that I was thwarted in my desired illustration of the post by a 13 hour delay in my photos being ‘sent’ via email from my iPhone and their arrival to my laptop. (I know. Old news. I can’t figure out why sometimes they come through immediately and other times it takes them a day to make the trip.)

But arrive they did, just after noon today. Finally.

Far From Alone

I guess I should be grateful. The delay gave me the opportunity to harvest two posts out of one luscious, Labor Day afternoon spent perched in the middle of Tohickon Creek.

Because while I spent the afternoon in delectable solitude, I was far from alone.

Of course, there was and is the relentless movement of the creek itself. She is alive. Her waters flow around boulders and under tree limbs and through sluices of haphazardly strewn rocks and fallen branches, each maneuver amplifying or quelling her contribution to our conversation.

Her voice has the ability to reassure and center me in a way that keeps me in a swirled state of awe and gratitude. Day after day. No matter how many times I visit her, or at which point in her winding, ox-bowed, seemingly meandering journey to the Delaware River I approach her, she somehow manages to speak directly to my soul. Sometimes I go to her knowing she will wash away my very human concerns, and other times, inexplicably, I resist entering her presence. Perhaps I’m embarrassed; maybe I feel unworthy.

Beyond Her Presence

But beyond the undeniable presence of the Spirit of the Tohickon itself, there’s never been a visit to her shores that I’ve not been greeted by at least one and usually a myriad of other beings.

Yesterday was no exception. Nor was today. Nor, for that matter, was a day last week.

Last Thursday, an osprey made sure I noticed it flying upstream by calling out to me just as it passed overhead. I thought it a bit odd that it called out at that moment, but wrote it off to good luck on my part. The encounter felt a bit more like a determined bid for my attention when the bird did exactly the same thing on its way back downstream, about 20 minutes later.

I’m sure it would be no surprise if I told you that the appearance of Osprey held astonishing significance to me and reinforced a message I’ve been receiving for, well – one could argue at least six months. In fact, I’m almost ashamed to admit that until Osprey showed up last week, I’d actually forgotten the initial onslaught of pointed messages I’d received back in March, although I had noticed and heeded other cameos in recent weeks.

Yesterday’s Companions

So while I descended into the ‘understory’ of The Overstory, I nevertheless maintained a slightly heightened awareness of my peripheral vision. A number of times I sensed creatures around me, riding the currents, slipping around boulders, but didn’t see much other than the occasional little feeder fish or water spiders skimming the surface like speed skaters.

As quickly as that, a head popped out of the water, its red tongue tasting the air. The currents buffeted its slight body and made it waver as it held its head up. I said hello and asked if I could take its photo. It answered in the affirmative, as you can see from above.

I couldn’t zoom in as closely as I would’ve liked, but my sense was that it was a water snake. A youngster, I was pretty sure, as I’ve seen them grown to much (much) larger dimensions than this little guy. I was pleased ‘serpent’ had decided to pop in and say hi.

Last Night

Later, as I sat by the fire and continued my immersion into my book, my peripheral vision again kicked in – despite the competing bids for the attention of my rods and cones. (The firelight flickered and danced, yet I was also focusing the laser-like beam of my phone’s flashlight onto the pages to read into the night.)

Surprised, I trained my phone’s tractor beam to my right. Just outside the stones stacked neatly to create a firepit sat this wonderful toad. We had quite the conversation, as it was not in the least afraid of me, and I felt its presence acutely. I wondered if it was a little chilly, since it seemed determined to explore the spaces between the firepit stones, which must’ve felt warm and toasty.

Fire Buddy – Photo: L. Weikel

Shortly after my little friend made its way wherever, I decided it was time to find my way home as well. It was quite a day of amphibian love yesterday – enhancing my solitude, by letting me know I wasn’t really alone at all.

(T-815)