Tohickon Creek

New Moon in Aries – ND #114

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Graceful and Glorious Landing – Photo: L. Weikel

New Moon in Aries

In only a couple hours, we will experience a New Moon in Aries. As we know, a moon is considered new when it is conjunct, or exactly lined up with, the sun. And the sun just entered Aries last weekend.

A new moon in Aries is considered especially auspicious and powerful as far as initiating new endeavors and becoming aware of (and seizing) new opportunities. Beyond noticing what short term goals we might want to set and implement, this particular new moon, being in the initiating sign of Aries, may be especially powerful in marking the beginning of a new two and a half year project.

It’s intriguing to ponder what seeds we might plant today (Friday, April 1, 2022) that may either run their course or only come into their fullest expression by June 2024. It just feels like there’s so much volatility and potential for change all around us.

Will we manifest the change so many of us yearn for deep in our hearts?

Blue Heron & Goose – Photo: L. Weikel

Creek Visit

All of which reminds me that I only managed a ‘drive-by’ of the Tohickon today, which is where I go when contemplating time – past, present, and future. When I turned onto the road that passes within feet of the creek I immediately noticed two Great Blue Herons having a chat on a boulder amidst the flowing waters. Of course, as soon as I pulled up to the side of the road (albeit as slowly and unobtrusively as I could – in a car), they took their leave. One seemed less irritated with me, though, and seemingly teased me by only moving a dozen or so yards upstream.

It hung out with a couple Canada Geese and I wondered if it was going to try spearfishing one of those ginormous carp that – surprisingly – were still hanging out in that same spot I saw them last week. (I saw much less evidence of the snakes, though. Or maybe I didn’t linger there long enough for them to surface.)

Yes, we had a chat – Photo: L. Weikel

 

Instead of pondering my intentions for this new moon, I had a silent chat with this Great Blue Heron. It was obviously aware of me as I playfully stalked it with my iPhone. I love the shot I got of it landing on a rock a bit downstream, its wings outstretched and magnificent.

I’m thinking the message of this new moon may be honoring the need for self-reflection, which is the key concept attributed to the Blue Heron in the Medicine Cards. There are so many ways we can honor Blue Heron’s nudge to engage in this activity. I think it may be time for me to cultivate and offer new opportunities to myself and others who may want to join me to do just that over the next couple of years.

Set those intentions! And maybe even, perhaps, join me in embracing Blue Heron’s urge to know ourselves even better?

Great Blue Heron taking flight – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+114)

Memory Lane – ND #107

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A Carp in the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Memory Lane

I took an unexpected trip down memory lane this afternoon.

In spite of the overcast gloom and intermittent drizzle, I managed to stop for about half an hour at ‘my spot’ along the Tohickon Creek. When I got out of my car to pay my respects to this beloved body of water, I was surprised to see two significantly large carp treading water in the center of the stream.

As I do occasionally, I’d brought with me a rice cake or two that I crumbled and then blew into it my whispered gratitude and love to the Spirit of the Tohickon. Then I offered the crumbles to the creatures (and the water itself) in appreciation.

When I did this, I noticed that several concentric circles kept rippling the surface of the creek all around the two carps. Only once did I see something black briefly break the surface. Yet clearly there were creatures all around these two carps, which mostly just seemed to face into the headwaters, barely moving.

Two Carp – and Notice the Concentric Circles… – Photo: L. Weikel

A Memory Triggered

All of a sudden I remember visiting the creek about half a mile downstream (as the creek flows), where there used to be a low dam. That’s where I used to take all three of our sons to play. My youngest son and I went there a lot after I picked him up from pre-school.

The memory that was triggered was of one afternoon (almost certainly in late March!) when Sage and I were at ‘the dam.’ He was playing along the concrete wall, in the center of which there was a gap through which water rushed to the next level of the creek, where it splashed along a myriad assortment of rocks making up the creek bed. I was sitting on the concrete wall myself, writing in my journal.

This particular day, Sage and I were delighted to see dozens and dozens of huge (to us) fish swimming upstream! For all the times we’d spent at the Tohickon, we’d never experienced such a sight before. Golden orange fish whose scales reflected the sun and were simply magical to behold! It took us only a moment, though, for our eyes to adjust to what we were really seeing.

That’s when we realized that, in addition to scores of carp swimming up the Tohickon, we also were witnessing scores of snakes feasting upon these fish!

The realization was at once astonishing, horrifying, and fascinating.

And that’s what I believe I was witnessing today – only the flow of the Tohickon, at least at the spot I was at today – was allowing all those snakes to remain under the ‘radar.’

What a memory.

Try as I might, I failed to snag a photo of those dark sea serpents lurking beneath the surface. But I knew they were there.

(T+107)

Respite – ND #91

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Looking South along the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Respite

I managed to get myself to my beloved Tohickon Creek today. Granted, I was only able to stay there for about half an hour – but it was a most exquisite and essential respite, and that 30 minutes was incredibly restorative. It put a smile back on my face for at least a few minutes. (Ask Karl!)

It feels like it’s been months since I had the opportunity to sit beside the creek for any length of time. It does get a little harder to spend any quality time there (with my journal) when it’s freezing cold out or, as has happened several times this fall and winter, when the creek overflows its banks.

One More Thing

Before I write or share any more photos from my creek time today, I need to provide you with the link that actually was the impetus for me to write what I did last night. You see, I didn’t initially set out to write about the appalling situation in Ukraine. Heck, I initially tried to focus on the relentless energy of the puppies and their exuberance in running free in the mild weather.

(They really are hilarious. And they play with such reckless abandon, it’s a wonder they don’t hurt themselves when doing barrel rolls across the yard.)

There I go again, distracting myself. What the heck?

As you may recall, I’ve provided a list compiled by Professor Timothy Snyder (author of On Tyranny*) of excellent resources we can use to help Ukraine and the Ukrainian people. I also updated that list a few days later, I believe.

Well, he just came out with yet another list yesterday and I wanted to share it with you. Because the situation is so volatile and fluid, needs are changing and different organizations are stepping up to help. I really appreciate his efforts to find organizations that can accept our credit cards, as making a wire transfer can be a step too much for some people. Plus, I love the range of options he provides. They’re unique and practical – and some even address the crisis of providing accurate information to Russians.

This hawk and the one pictures below are the same bird. Photo: L. Weikel

Tohickon Again

I found myself just staring at the ripples created by the stones in the bed of the creek. Much as I wanted to write in my journal, which I did do at least a little (not enough for my satisfaction, though), my brain insisted on disengaging.

Naturally, I’m always on the lookout for birds of prey patrolling the waters. Today I was surprised to hear a crow squawking in indignation. It was chasing a hawk, which undoubtedly had been caught red-taloned trying to raid the crow’s nest.

Luckily for me, I managed to catch it in flight a couple times. One of those photos, though, you need to ‘look between the lines’ (of the trees), though, to see it!

Makes me wonder what else we need to look between the lines to see. Maybe it’s personal. Or maybe it’s global. I have noticed pretty acutely lately the profound truth of “as within, so without,” and “as above, so below.”

Look for the beauty hiding between the lines of the trees – Photo: L. Weikel

*affiliate link

(T+91)

Balmy Then Frigid – ND #59

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Tohickon overtopping her banks – Photo: L. Weikel

Balmy Then Frigid

Short one this evening. I have a vague headache and I wonder if it’s related to the indecisive nature of the temperature outside over the past few days. First balmy, then frigid; pouring rain, massive puddles, swollen creeks and rivers. Tonight, utter clarity revealing the cosmos causes another plunge of temps.

I don’t think I’ve heard one car drive past our house tonight. People must be heeding the entreaties to stay home. It’s refreshing. People are always out tooling around when it’s snowing. But maybe everyone just decided that it’s Friday and, what the heck, they might as well just hunker down where they are.

Nothing’s worse than driving and suddenly realizing you’re on a sheet of ice. As soon as you feel that vague but unmistakable sense that there’s suddenly no traction between your vehicle’s tires and the surface of the road, a pit of terror strikes. It’s sort of like the plunge your stomach takes when you breach the top of a roller coaster.

It’s the sudden and unmistakable sense that, in that moment, you have no control over anything.

Swollen Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Swollen Tohickon

I made a pit stop to my beloved Tohickon Creek earlier this afternoon. I haven’t had a chance to sit beside her and just have a conversation with her in a few months. Yes, I visited – briefly – when I walked there a few weeks ago. But the sun was setting and there was a lot of snow and ice around and nowhere for me to just sit and ‘be.’

Communing with the creek wasn’t in the cards today, either. My usual spot was inaccessible. The Tohickon was overflowing her banks and her waters quite literally would’ve poured into my car had I even attempted to park there.

The mighty Lenape Sipu (Delaware River) was equally as swollen with muddy, opaque water coursing downstream. Chunks of logs and spiky broken tree limbs bobbed and swirled in the eddies caused by rocks and other obstacles hidden from view.

But even more troubling, knowing the temperatures were soon to plummet, were the sheets of water streaming across most of the roadways. So much water with nowhere to go.

Nights like tonight are the stuff of comforters and candlelight and gratitude for a warm home and a good book.

(T+59)

Strength and Tranquility – ND #40

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Strength and Tranquility – Photo: L. Weikel

Strength and Tranquility

Adding an extra leg to my journey, I took a detour from my usual walking route and paid a visit to an anchoring source of both strength and tranquility: the Tohickon Creek. In spite of the cold, I felt drawn to her soothing presence. It’s been a while since I had a chance to just be with her and listen to her voice.

Along the way, both coming and going, I encountered a number of deer. I didn’t even try to take any photos of them. It was as if they moved just enough to reveal their presence, grazing amongst the trees and weeds of the rocky hillside. Then, entering stillness again, they melted back into their surroundings.

Perhaps it was the rather specific amount of leftover mini-piles of snow sporadically strewn about the hillside that made me appreciate how well-suited deer are to blending into their milieu. Up until now I was pretty sure the white tails of our ‘white-tail deer,’ were more a ‘tell’ than a tool. But today? Today I was fascinated to see that the glimpses I caught of their tails resembled the random pockets of snow scattered amongst the dead leaves and other detritus of the forest floor.

Huh. I never noticed that before. And I’ve seen a lot of deer in my time.

Cormorant? – Photo: L. Weikel

Icy and Cold

When I got to the creek itself, I could make out a single large-ish sized bird standing on a boulder further down the creek. My gut tells me it was a cormorant, even though that’s not a bird I routinely associate with the creek.

The ice forming along the banks took on the blue-ish hue of the overcast sky. Even though the sun had set and snow crystals were just beginning to spit from the thick blanket of gray above me, I see hints of magenta and green in the geometric forms of the freezing water. Or maybe its my imagination as I view these photos now.

No matter. My beloved Tohickon worked her magic. My heart found peace.

I offered her some strands of my hair in gratitude for the comfort she unfailingly provides me when I need it most.

Serpentine Currents of the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

 

(T+40)

Owl Shagging Moon – ND #39

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Spotted on my walk (but not today) – Photo: L. Weikel

Owl Shagging Moon

The full moon making its appearance this Monday evening (6:48 p.m. EST on January 17th) is often referred to as the Wolf Moon. Given the paucity of wolves in our local environs, at least, and also based upon my personal observations (at least audibly), I propose it is more appropriately named the Owl Shagging Moon.

Most of our walks this week took place at dusk. Despite of our best intentions, inevitably the sun is making its last hurrah just as we get going. On the plus side, I’ve captured some stunning sunsets on my iPhone. And while I hope I’ll never tire of appreciating the magnificence of these works of art, I’ve become acutely aware of something else happening recently, just after the sun dips below the horizon.

All of a sudden, literally moments after the sun’s brilliant, usually carnelian visage slips beyond our view, a chorus of Great Horned Owl hoots starts bouncing off the massive walls of rock carved by Tohickon Creek through the millennia.

Hoot; counter-hoot. Sometimes hoots overlapping each other. One thing I can tell you: I’ve heard more hoots in the past week than I usually hear the rest of the year combined. It’s mating time, baby!

In the glow of a July night – Photo: L. Weikel

Some Action Happening

I can only surmise there’s some action happening in the treetops, and sometime in March we can  expect some owlets to be hatching. Not that I’d be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of them. But a girl can dream.

This has been the most active January (hooting-wise) I can remember in quite a while. It could just be a function of the time of day we’re walking, or the relative mildness of the weather we’ve had recently compared to other years. But hearing them calling to each other yet again this evening reminded me that I do think this full moon needs to be re-named. I can’t say I’ve heard a single wolf howl. (Thank goodness, given where we live!)

The calls of the Great Horned Owls are kind of a lovely reminder of how fertile our nesting can be during the cold moons of January and February.

It makes me ponder what I can do right now that’s playful, satisfying, and inherently creative, that just might lead to something new hatching in 6-8 weeks.

(T+39)

Support Staff – Day 1099

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Burning Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

Support Staff

It’s been a while since I chose a card to guide us through the week ahead. And as I approach the end of my 1111 Devotion, I am reflecting on the assistance and inspiration I’ve received from the handful of tarot and other oracle decks that became my ‘go-to’ support staff.

I’ve been trying extra hard over the past week or two to steer clear of watching anything but the barest bones of news. The trials going on in various parts of our country feel like we’re witnessing Theater of the Absurd. As an attorney, I’m appalled at the behavior of the judge in Wisconsin. His rulings, his behavior, his attitudes all embody impropriety. Right now, right when our institutions are perilously close to crashing all around us, this petty, vindictive, obviously biased man pollutes our nation’s belief in justice.

Right when we need them most, our systems are failing us.

And it goes without saying that this includes Congress. Good grief. I know I don’t even need to write a word on that subject. It’s painful to watch each day tick by without the egregious and unprofessional behavior of a faction of Congress create a mockery of this essential branch of government.

Accountability

There’s a word that all of us are probably feeling pretty obviously doesn’t apply to the rich and powerful in our country. First of all, it barely seems as if anyone is even made to break a sweat when they brazenly lie, cheat, and steal while holding public office (or fraternize with those who do). And then, even when an occasional subpoena is issued or indictment is handed down, we get a front row seat to all the tricks of the trade that the wealthy use to delay and obstruct justice in our country.

I used to see it when I practiced family law. Money used as a bludgeon to maintain an untenable status quo. And when that doesn’t work? Delay, obstruct, and bleed the weaker side dry.

January 6th was a failed coup attempt. You know it; I know it. We all know it. But every single day that goes by and people keep pretending it wasn’t exactly what it was, our country becomes that much weaker. Every day. Drip by drip.

Despair

I don’t want to give in to despair. And the last think I want to do is promote it. But at the same time, I feel like most of us who kept the faith through the debacle that was the Trump Administration are losing hope that our country can be reunited. There is precious little overlap between realities anymore. And without common ground? How do we salvage what’s left of our country’s future?

The Ocean Oracle

I turn to a deck created by a wonderfully creative friend of mine, Susan Marte, for inspiration and perhaps a way forward. Susan is the creator of The Ocean Oracle.

Holding the energy of my words in my heart as I shuffle, I seek a way forward. What do we need to know? How can we help ourselves?

The two cards that appear make me catch my breath.

Alas, I don’t have time to upload the images or share the wisdom of the cards in this moment. But I promise to share them tomorrow night.

I will tell you this: The top card was Nautilus and the foundational card, the card holding space at the bottom of the deck, was Sea Urchin. When you hear what they represent, I suspect you, too, will see and feel both the promise as well as the turbulent path we’ll need to navigate in order to ‘get there.’

Until tomorrow, then. Remember: Nautilus/Sea Urchin.

Tohickon Creek- A Fork in the Path
(11 November 2018) Photo: L. Weikel

(T-12)

Trickery – Day 1074

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An 8-point buck; I swear! – Photo: L. Weikel

Trickery

I don’t know what it was about today, but things did not seem to be what they appeared. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say they didn’t appear to be what they were. Either way, the trickery with which I felt my eyes and brain were being teased was unexpected.

I think I was expecting the light of this powerful full moon to illuminate everything that needs to be seen, both easily and obviously. If we have been deceiving ourselves, then certainly it stands to reason that when the big reveal arrives, we should be able to recognize it. Right?

Well, maybe that’s not the way things really work. I don’t know.

Or maybe some things were being revealed while others were just messing with me. Or – a third option: maybe the ephemeral is the reality. Maybe what I take to be something certain and obvious actually isn’t.

A Better Look – Photo: L. Weikel

 

Chupacabra?

My first example of what I mean is the creature I encountered early this evening as I was driving home from the grocery store. The moon was just coming above the horizon and was filling the backdrop of blue-black sky with an eerie orange glow. I rounded a 90 degree turn and this was standing in the middle of the road. It took me by such surprise that I had to fumble for my iPhone – and even when I found it, I only managed to take this single photo.

I think it’s a chupacabra. And I think it usually disguises itself as an 8-point buck.

Sea Lion Amused at the Illusion – Photo: L. Weikel

Number Two

My second surreal moment today came while permitting myself a couple moments at the creek. The weather was flawless. Ha ha –  I take that back. In all the vastness of this perfect autumn day, one single cloud appeared in the middle of that cerulean sea. Even that moment felt like it was hinting that there’s more to what things than what meets the eye.

But the photo below took what felt like an inordinate amount of time to come into focus. It literally felt like my brain was doing that in-and-out with a telescopic lens that cameras do now. No matter how I looked at this photo, I couldn’t make heads nor tails out of it.

The wavy attempts to focus and make sense of what I was seeing did settle. And when they did, I very clearly saw the smiling Sea Lion sitting at the base of the portal –  err, I mean, the shimmering entrance to another world.

So, you tell me. What was revealed?  The truth of the way things really ‘are?’ A glimpse into another realm?

Which makes me also wonder what ‘the truth’ is about the things and circumstances I’m seeing now in other areas of my life. Am I engaging in trickery over myself?

Puppy Pic

Brutus Beefcake – Photo: L.Weikel

(T-37)

Idyllic – Day 1050

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Idyllic September Day – Photo: L. Weikel

Idyllic

Today was one of those days that will go down in the books as idyllic from start to finish. After spending the entire day outside in the autumn air, I can barely keep my eyes open. In fact, tonight is one of those nights when I keep falling asleep at the keyboard.

I wanted to choose a card for us this evening – something for us to keep in the back of our minds as we watch this week unfold. My sleepiness has thwarted my intentions, so I guess I’ll have to do it tomorrow.

In the meantime, if things start getting dicey right out of the gate tomorrow (on any of the myriad fronts our lives could go sideways, personally and/or collectively), I’d like to at least offer you these photos. Drink their loveliness in. Let them remind you of what’s deeply important and without which we will fail to survive.

Feeling Loved Again

As I sit here writing this post, I’m surrounded by our three cats. It’s as if they’re sentinels. Cletus is directly across the room from me on the couch. Tigger is behind me on my left, sleeping on the back of the couch I’m sitting on, and Precious is behind me on my right.

Speaking of Precious, she’s doing great. It is as if, energetically, she’s let out a huge sigh of relief. To me, it feels like she was holding her shoulders up toward her ears for the past, umm, couple years – and all of a sudden someone just touched her to make her relax and she’s looking around, bewildered at how she’s feeling now.

I’m excited for her.

I’m also managing to get at least half of the hyperthyroidism medicine into her every day. Score! I can’t tell at all whether that’s having an impact. But the steroids definitely are. Poor bunny girl. She must’ve been so uncomfortable for so long…

Here’s to a better week than last.

Idyllic (& Starry) September Night – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-61)

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)