trust

Trust – Day 487

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Look Up! – Photo: L. Weikel

Trust

I’ll admit it; I’ve been following the unfolding drama of the Coronavirus pandemic as it has blossomed and spread across the world since late December/early January. I’ve listened to the reporters and epidemiologists explain what we’ve been seeing and tell us what we could expect when the infection inevitably reached our shores. And sadly, based on what I’ve observed, and read, and come to understand, I believe we’ve reached the point where we need to wake up, open our eyes, and trust.

No, not some outside force. Notice I said “sadly.” That’s because it would be reassuring and at least a tad bit comforting if we could let down our collective guard enough to trust our leaders, our elected officials, to tell us the best information on how to handle this crisis of infection.

That’s what most of us have believed in, I think. No matter how cynical we might be about politics, most of us have held fast to the belief, deep down, that when we – and by ‘we’ I mean Americans – need to face a crisis as a nation, we stick together, step up to the challenge, and overcome it.

That’s what we do.

That’s who we are.

Crisis of Faith

But that’s not how it’s working out at the moment. Right now, we are being forced to reckon with the fact that we have people at the helm of our government who are actively attempting to manipulate our perception of reality to such an extent that we don’t even accept or follow simple, common sense advice anymore.

Common sense advice like being extra vigilant about washing our hands, since physical contact with the virus, especially via our hands, is the strongest vector of contracting the illness, Covid-19.

Common sense advice like, even if we feel fine, staying away from large groups of people, whether at stores, or at theaters, or at major sporting events, since wherever lots of people gather, there are lots more opportunities to have the virus spread from person to person to person.

Common sense advice like staying at home if we feel sick. Knowing that we shouldn’t go to work if we feel like something that cat dragged in; recognizing that we really should go shopping if we have a fever and a cough.

We’re having a crisis of faith. It’s a crisis of faith in who we can trust.

A Huge Test

The way this crisis is unfolding in our country is a huge test. It’s a test of us as a nation and it’s a test of each of us on an individual basis. And yes, it is a crisis. My use of that word is not hyperbole. It’s reality.

If you’ve been paying attention, the calmest and smartest among us have been sounding the alarm, quietly but assertively. They knew that things would reach a tipping point that would change everything. All of a sudden, all of the reassurances of those who mocked science would come crashing down. Because this stuff grows exponentially.

And now it’s time to turn within. For each one of us to get quiet and sense within ourselves, “How do I want to react to this situation?”

“How can I best take care of myself and those I love?

My suggestion, respectfully, is to trust your heart. Trust your inner knowing.

Stop running. Breathe deeply. Go within your own self and find your calm center. Trust that most of all.

Dew Jewels – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-624)

Armadillo – Day 479

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Photo: AZcentral.com

Armadillo

Armadillo showed up in my cards today.

While it wasn’t the ‘main’ card for my day, I definitely felt the need to embrace its message.

Sometimes going within and creating a space in which to safely mull over the events of life is crucial to maintaining balance and, ultimately, moving forward. The key word here, I think, is safely.

That’s where the lesson and message of Armadillo can have the most effective impact upon our life. Learning how to create and deploy effective boundaries, which in turn create safety, is essential.

Right now, I’m feeling a powerful urge to withdraw from the world in order to deeply reflect upon a swath of experiences, relationships, and encounters I’ve had in the past several years. And in order to engage in this reflection, I definitely need to feel safe.

What’s That Mean?

“I definitely need to feel safe.” What exactly does that mean? If I had to define it, I guess I would describe it more as a visceral knowing than any kind of intellectual exercise. It’s a state of being that is predicated on knowing that no matter what, you’re loved; that you’re not in danger of being preyed upon.

It’s knowing that you can close your eyes and look within and not feel it necessary to, in actuality, keep one eye open.

I guess it comes down to trust.

Sometimes, when trust has been broken, it takes a while to even have the desire to cultivate a safe space where reflection can take place. It’s a lot of work. It takes a lot of courage. And it can sometimes feel like it would be a lot easier if we could just throw on an invisible coat of armor and just BE the armadillo!

I’m really glad I chose Armadillo to be a foundation of my pick today. It was a timely remainder that, ultimately, I need to take responsibility for creating my safe place for reflection. If I don’t claim it for myself, I’ll never experience it.

(T-632)

What’s Next – Day 452

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The Way Ahead – Photo: L. Weikel

What’s Next

If you’d asked me that question two months ago, I wouldn’t have had a definitive answer. No one knows exactly what’s coming next. But I would’ve felt reasonably confident of the trajectory of the handful of things in my life I consider to be most important.

Imagine my surprise, then, to discover that a couple of situations and relationships I might’ve considered ‘sure things’ in my life – aren’t.

Everyone reading this has probably encountered at least one instance in life (or more, if unlucky or, perhaps as in my case, naïve) when you’re motoring along, doing your best to pay attention to the signs and signals in life, thinking or hoping you’re living each day with greater insight and sensitivity, when suddenly you’re walloped.

You don’t see it coming. You’re blind-sided. One or more relationships you trusted, cultivated, and nurtured suddenly burst and scatter to the wind like a puff of breath explodes a dandelion gone to seed.

The Way Forward

When that happens, it’s hard to know what your next steps are. The way ahead is murky. Foggy. Unclear. The seeds, scattered, no longer form the beauty of that dandelion puff you held so lovingly in your hand.

And that’s when having faith kicks in. Knowing that if I follow my heart, step by step, the way will become clear.

I know I’m on the right path.

Perhaps I just need to find better companions.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-659)

Sheila Speaks For Me – Day 431

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Sheila Reacting to the State of the World – Photo: L. Weikel

Sheila Speaks For Me

The wind is howling outside, banging and clattering our wind chimes, making our window panes rattle back and forth and our front door occasionally burst open, not unlike Kramer making an entrance on Seinfeld.

Both the melodic clanging and the <<kloop kloop>> of our bamboo chimes outside sound so wild and undisciplined, I wish I could just stand on the edge of my porch and allow all the garbage of the world to whisk itself into the ethers.

If only it were so easy to clear away the old away.

Cleaning Out

Beginning during the days between Christmas and New Year’s, I’ve been sporadically binge-cleaning. I’ve donated a lot to charity, given away a fair share to family, sent some off to recycling, and thrown a bunch of stuff away entirely because it’s old, out of date, practically in tatters, or just astonishingly dumb to allow it to keep circulating in my inventory.

When I listen to that roaring wind blowing down the 611 corridor and into my living room, I’m hoping it will serve to further clean me up, clear me out, and coalesce The Tower’s presence and utterly necessary process in my life.

Everything is Changing

Beyond my personal needs and experience, today, with the official opening of the Senate Trial and the concurrent revelation and exposure of new evidence of – and rulings on – the impropriety (if not outright illegality) of certain behaviors of DT, it feels like these whipping winds are arriving just in time.

They’re stirring up, clearing out, sweeping away the lies upon lies we’ve been told for years now – the denials and demands that we not believe our own eyes and ears – by a myriad of actors, a tragic number of whom have taken oaths to act on behalf of the good of our country. And I wonder, if you look around in your own life: are there people or situations about which you’ve been told lies or, perhaps worse, have been lying about to yourself?

Have the north winds arrived with sudden, sweeping gusts, blowing away the unnaturally warm air of obfuscations to bring the cold clarity of truth?

It can be chilling on many levels to realize trust has been broken. That our faith in what we believed was true was, in fact, misplaced.

If any of these thoughts or feelings, worries or suspicions ring true for you during these tumultuous times, then perhaps you, too, feel like Sheila speaks for us all.

(T-680)

Trust – Day 422

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Photo: L. Weikel

Trust

If we can learn anything from this president, perhaps it is the pricelessness of one’s word.

In many ways, in spite of all the awful things I see emanating from this Administration, it’s the utter disregard for the most basic values and principles we try to teach our children from their earliest days that most upsets me.

I realize I’m not saying anything new. For instance, every one of you, I’m sure, is intimately familiar with the concept and value of telling the truth. It’s not even necessarily in the act of having the integrity and, indeed, telling the truth that most of the value is derived. No, the real value comes from the trust your pattern, your habit, of telling the truth engenders in those around you.

Trust. It is, quite simply, something that cannot be bought.

And if we’re not in the habit of telling the truth, we may realize  – too late – that we desperately need the trust that comes from telling the truth at a time or place in history when or where nothing can be done to regain what has been squandered.

A pattern of telling lies can easily come back to haunt anyone – but most particularly someone who depends upon the good will and trust of others. And sad to say, I believe our president has erroneously believed that he can rule (or perhaps more accurately ‘overrule’) everything simply by the power of his “say so.”

Trust. Integrity. Truth.

I yearn for the days when our word was our bond. I yearn for the days when people didn’t even consider lying as an option to get out of anything – particularly people operating at the highest levels of our government and serving as role models for our children, our culture, and the world.

Sometimes my idealism causes me a lot of pain.

But what do we do when someone has betrayed our trust time and time again? How do we deal with that person any further? How do we move forward with any modicum of trust? Is it trust but verify (our own president)? How do we even do that when there is such a blatant disregard for us and our right to know the truth?

That’s something we’re all having to face right now.

Here’s hoping when we wake tomorrow there’s been a de-escalation. Here’s hoping we all start to see and appreciate the value of telling the truth. And hold people accountable when they do not.

(T-689)

What’s Next – Day 372

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Light on the Path – Photo: L. Weikel

What’s Next

It’s pretty common, I think, for most of us to want to know ‘what’s next.’ And that applies to little things in life as well as some of the bigger ones; from our next meal to our next career move.

My feeling, though, is that far too many people spend so much time planning for the future that they miss out on much of the magic of the present. For instance, it’s not uncommon for many people to start planning their ‘next’ vacation before they’ve even concluded their current one.

It’s almost as if we prefer to imagine how our lives could be than actually live them.

We are a planning society. From Day-Timers to Google Calendars we’re surrounded by tools that can help us plan what’s next – and when we’ll do it.

Planning, Planning, Planning

I’m not a big fan of planning; at least, not planning down to the littlest detail. While I recognize this can be a source of some irritation for those around me, I’ve found that, for the most part, I’ve developed a fairly sophisticated sense of what truly needs to be planned and what can be improvised or decided on the fly.

Of course, I understand its purpose. Society runs a lot smoother when we have schedules and plans.

And I’m not categorically averse to all planning. I just balk when it feels as though there’s an effort being made to marshal life into predictable outcomes when we actually have no freaking clue as to how things are really going to unfold.

It’s when we try to exercise control over what we simply cannot know (not yet, at least) that I choose not to participate.

I’m Being Vague

I feel like I’m being far more vague than I mean to be in writing this post. It’s as if the idea for it is at the tip of my brain and yet it’s just out of reach.

The germ for this post started the other night when I was out walking after writing my post about the Leonid meteor shower, which was – in my estimation – a dud this year. I was walking to a clearing where I hoped to experience an abundance of shooting stars. In order to get to this clearing, I had to walk through the woods.

Crossing a spring – Photo: L. Weikel

Only a Few Feet Ahead of Me

As I made my way along the leaf strewn dirt path through the woods, I held a small light in my hand that I shone downward as surreptitiously as possible. I didn’t want to disturb the other creatures in the forest as I ventured toward my destination. Given that I was keeping the light very low and tight, I was only illuminating about a yard ahead of myself at any given time.

Naturally, this reminded me of the saying that we really only need to have the path illuminated for us one stepping stone at a time. Indeed, as I ruminated on this thought, I came to a point in the path when I was literally hopping from stone to stone.

Trust

The whole point of that saying (or whatever it’s called) is to instill in us the understanding that long-range planning is good as far as setting a course or pointing ourselves in the right direction. But long range planning, ultimately, does little to get us from point A to point B.

In actuality, we need only see ahead of ourselves just enough to take the next step and, in so doing, trust that the next one will appear.

It’s in trusting that our path is unfolding in the present moment that we pull our future toward us and answer the question, ‘What’s next?’ step by step.

And isn’t that the fun of it all?

What’s next? – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-739)

Worth Your While – Day 343

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Eagle in a darkening sky – Photo: L. Weikel

Worth Your While

This weekend’s reunion with my college friends was a hard act to follow. In fact, even the weather knew it couldn’t top its performance from the day before, so it just gave up and offered the complete opposite: the skies darkened and rain began pummeling the earth just as we began taking our leave.

It rained the whole way home, and when I decided to make a quick stop at the Wegman’s, I became soaked to the bone in the raw rain. So by the time I got home, I was deeply chilled. Shivering. I found it almost impossible to warm up.

Karl’s Agenda

Although he did demand a quick debrief on the weekend as soon as I walked in the door, Karl tenderly wrapped me in a blanket and snuggled up with me on the couch when he realized how cold my extremities were. I was tempted to take a hot shower or bath, but – curiously – Karl seemed hell-bent on locating a movie he’d discovered while clicker flicking while I was away.

He obviously felt pretty confident I would enjoy it for he persisted. While it’s not unusual for Karl to occasionally suggest that we watch a particular movie on one of our premium channels, it’s not exactly common, either.

Curiosity Piqued

Cuddled together on the couch, he kept marveling at how cold I was, while impatiently flicking through Netflix and HBO. Finally, he got to the Amazon Prime site and found what he was looking for: the movie Life Itself.

My curiosity was piqued. This was not like Karl. Even he commented, “Gee, I hope this isn’t a dud. I don’t know why I’m so driven to find this and watch it with you,” he said. “Now. Tonight,” he emphasized.

So we watched the movie.

Emotional Payday

What a great production. I loved it – we both did. I could not have asked for a more perfect confirmation of the deep and juicy conversations that took place over the weekend.

As a result, if politics or the weather, worry or commitments are weighing you down this week, then I urge you to watch this movie. Again, it’s called Life Itself and you can find it on Amazon Prime. It’s definitely worth your while.

Porcupine Concurs

In conclusion, I just want to include a photo of a little guy who made a rather concerted effort today to get our attention. Somehow or another, I feel this creature is significant to so much of what was discovered this weekend, as well as the message brought home by Life Itself. (Ha ha – I love that double entendre!)

Trust. Have faith. And embrace your innocence.

Photo: wagwalking.com

(T-768)

Trust and Amazon Burning – Day 287

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Amazonian fires viewed by satellite – Photo: businessinsider.com

Trust and Amazon Burning

Let’s face it: we’re all starting to feel that awful sense of impending doom starting to creep into our bellies. We’re actually, literally, standing by and watching the apocalyptic movie plot begin to unfold before our eyes – and we’re all freaking extras.

While I occasionally become overwhelmed with the magnitude of it all (and I’m including in that overwhelm my reaction to a plethora of awfulness, not ‘just’ watching the vast taiga in Siberia and the rainforest of the Amazon burn), I fundamentally do not want to stand by and stoke an attitude of hopelessness.

If I’m honest with myself, my overall drop-dead attitude and worldview is one of optimism. As long as we’re still here, we have an obligation to persevere and to do our best to make life better on this planet.

How Do We Make Things Better?

I mentioned that there’s one small act we can take on the 1stof every month, an act that joins us, collectively, with thousands of people throughout the world, using just ten drops of something called Essence of Perelandra. It’s an act that heightens the attention of many on a specific intention.

We can donate time, money, resources, and unique skills to causes that call to our hearts and help effect change or implement policies that reflect our values.

We can rage against the horrors, write to our legislators, stage protests, organize to ensure policies are in place that will keep voting from becoming a right only of the elite.

What About Trust?

Sometimes, as I’ve written about at least tangentially before, walking our talk and living a life that embraces shamanic principles demands an act of faith. Making the choice to maintain a sense of hope is one of those moments when we choose for ourselves: either I trust in something bigger than myself or I don’t.

I listened to and witnessed an important message this morning on dealing with our rage, frustrations, and sense of helplessness about the fires burning uncontrolled across our planet, but particularly in the Amazon.

It’s a video of Charles Eisenstein, and I’m sharing it because he makes a compelling argument for us to embrace TRUST – and to vigilantly do our best to take responsibility for how we choose to perceive the world and what we choose to ‘put out’ into the world .

As you may recall, living a shamanic life is all about our perceptions.

I’d like to offer this to you for your consideration this morning.

We always have the ability to refuse to give up, to embrace hope, and to trust in something larger than ourselves – while doing whatever we can to move things forward even the tiniest bit..

(T-824)

Fruits of My Courage and Trust – Day 281

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First Owl – Photo: L.Weikel

Fruits of My Courage and Trust   

The other night I entitled my blog post “Phoning It In.” At the time I wrote it, I was beyond tired, and it felt like anything I might write would be rote and vapid.

But as soon as I started writing, I knew the post wouldn’t be boring or average. (Short, yes. But that’s because it was after 4:00 a.m. when I started writing it.) I’ll admit it: I was giddy.

I was buzzing – literally – from giving myself permission to try something new and just diving right in. As I described in that post, I was sorta kinda pressured into trusting my friend Luz. She swore up and down that I could create a painting I’d be excited about – and she could show me how, if I would only trust her. If I would show a little courage and just immerse myself in the experience.

Immersion Theory

If I really think about it, it was this immersion in the experience that really juiced me. And what’s also intriguing is the connection between what I’ve taught Luz and what she taught me: I do believe that the skills I’ve honed in learning how to journey, as well as the further practice of cultivating the ability to take notes during my process of straddling the worlds, have cultivated my ability to immerse myself in a task.

The process of journeying takes a great deal of focus and attention – especially when receiving a lot of specific information or guidance. And I’ve found through the years that if I doubt, if a significant enough portion of my consciousness stands outside of the work, observing with arms folded and skepticism (and doubt) coloring my experience, my perceptions and ability to receive and process information from other realms is seriously compromised.

As Above So Below

Or in other words, trusting myself and just surrendering to the experience almost assuredly makes any such experience itself exponentially richer. As a result, I figured, “What the heck?” I could feel it. I needed to either be ‘all in’ or not do it at all. That’s because I could very easily have allowed a huge part of myself to stand slightly aside as I painted, with arms folded and ego fully engaged, criticizing and worrying about every single stroke I made on the canvas. And I knew, I could feel, that would buckle my ability to create.

But Luz had asked me to trust her, to trust her process – a process she’s developed and practiced herself for several years. So it was only fair.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve asked Luz to trust me many times. To trust my description of the process of journeying and to trust her ability to see, receive, and perceive other realms.

So I went ‘all in.’ As she assured me over and over, “Lisa, you can always paint over it and start again. Don’t over-think it.”

“Just go for it.”

So I did.

Beginner’s Luck

My very first creation was “First Owl,” above. I could barely believe my eyes.

My second creation, below, I call BearWolf, perhaps for obvious reasons, depending upon your perspective, perhaps not. While I don’t feel it’s nearly as amazing as First Owl (which I still attribute a bit – OK, a lot –  to ‘Beginner’s Luck,’ much to Luz’s annoyance), it’s still a piece I will enthusiastically hang in my office.

Wider Application

I’m getting a feeling that there’s a lesson here, a wider application for this Immersion Theory. I need to ponder it.

In the meantime, I offer you the fruits of my courage and trust. Thank you, Luz. Worthy investments – and a ton of fun.

BearWolf – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-830)

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)