Waiting

Stuck in Waiting – Day 1018

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Cletus – Right foreleg backwards – Photo: L. Weikel

Stuck in Waiting

I’ve been feeling a weird vibe over the past few days. It’s been most noticeable when I sit down to write my nightly post. The best way I can describe it is that I feel like I’m stuck in waiting.

I can’t even begin to describe what I’m waiting for, which in some sense makes this feeling even weirder. If you were a fly on the wall in my living room (I’d probably go after you with a swatter) – but besides that lamentable aggression, you’d see me on the prowl. I’m looking for something that feels worthy of sharing with you and I keep coming up empty-handed.

Current Events

Let’s face it; aren’t most of us just fed up to here with the world? It’s a mess on so many levels. And for the most part, unless we’re health care professionals or active-duty military people, we probably can’t actually do a lot to pro-actively tackle the problems. Of course I’m exaggerating. There are actually lots of other people doing ‘front-line’ work addressing the societal woes that go beyond ‘just’ the delta variant or Afghanistan. Firefighters. Teachers.

Pretty much everywhere we are, we’re doing our best to keep ourselves together and life progressing. I’m reminded by circumstances I see in friends and family how nearly impossible it is to secure mental health support. How tragic in these monumentally stressful times.

Neither Oracles Nor Astrology

Nothing I read or look at right now feels like it lends itself to a post. To be honest, I feel like this is the calm before the storm. But I’m also not wanting to try to pin anything down right now. It’s hard to describe, but the best I can say is that nothing feels like it wants to be defined or addressed in this moment. Everything’s in flux. Another word might be chaos, but that feels a little too strong. Chaos could be coming; but right now, we’re just sort of stewing.

Most of us are hoping for the best. Whatever that may be…

Cletus – left foreleg backwards – Photo: L. Weikel

A Cletus Puzzle

So I’ll leave you with these two photos of Cletus. They were taken within five minutes or so of each other. In one, his right foreleg and paw are splayed out backwards, behind him, in what appears to be an extremely unnatural position. In the other, his left foreleg and paw are extended in a similar extremely vulnerable position.

I may have written about this before as it freaks me out when he does it. I suspect he slept like this in the womb, shifting and tucking his little legs to make room for his kitten siblings.

Nevertheless, he’s such a weird cat. And that’s the thing I find most pleasing to write about tonight.

(T-93)

The Other Shoe – Day 598

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Innocent Clouds – Photo: L. Weikel

The Other Shoe

We’re all waiting for it. You know it; I know it. We can pretend we’re going about our normal daily lives (such as they are in the Pandemic Times), but we’re all just actually treading water, biding our time. We’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

That’s sort of how Karl and I felt as we took our walk this evening. The sky was actually relatively clear when we set out. There were some scattered, darker clouds to our north, but I checked the Weather Channel app on my phone and – sure enough – it was still declaring there was only a 20% chance of precipitation, hour by hour, for the rest of the evening.

We walked another quarter mile or so and very nearly turned back.

But then we just said the heck with it. We continued along our longer, four mile, walk-about.

Thunderhead Gathering

As we got further and further away from our home (and shelter), the clouds that had appeared to be traveling east seemed to descending upon us moment by moment. We climbed the largest hill on our trek and saw thunderheads amassing in the distance, while the sun broke through in those magical, celestial rays that, to me, always remind me of the presence of the God I first imagined as a child.

Meanwhile, as we walked and kept our vision mostly affixed to the skies above, we kept debating between ourselves whether the clouds were coming toward us or skirting us. Would we get walloped or would we managed to witness the impending storms merely from afar?

As we reached the apex of our journey, the place where we are furthest away from anywhere we can take shelter, we were rather shocked to notice thunderheads approaching us from the southeast now. It was as if they’d circled around and were herding us, prodding us on, while we could see equally threatening thunderheads gathering in the northwest.

Thunderheads amassing – Photo: L. Weikel

Discretion Was the Better Part

We arrived at a final decision point in our longer walkabout. We reached the intersection where we can proceed along the dirt road, which takes us another 1.5 miles, or turn right and get ourselves home in only about half a mile. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but perhaps it would never arrive.

We started along the dirt road, but only managed about ten steps when – again – something caused us to look at each other and decide otherwise. We turned around and took the shorter way home.

Along the way, ground to cloud lightning, ‘chain’ lightning, sizzled to the northeast. We were indeed surrounded. Rain splattered intermittently, but we made it home without getting soaked.

Once safely inside, I started making dinner and noticed how orangey-dark the whole house was. The color infusing our kitchen was definitely weird. I tried to capture it. This doesn’t do it justice. Then all of a sudden, the skies opened. The other shoe dropped.

It was as if hell was raining down upon us.

Before the shoe dropped – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-513)

Retreat! – Day Sixty Four

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Photo: Prime.peta.org

Retreat!

“Prairie Dog medicine teaches that strength and inspiration can be found by retreating into the stillness that quiets the mind. The strength of this medicine is also knowing when and how to replenish your life force. Prairie Dog medicine people tend to seek self-empowerment in silence and inactivity, where they can access dreams and visions without the intrusions of worldly chaos. When they reenter the world, they are profound and powerful anchors of calm resolve amid life’s storms.” (Medicine Cards, p. 225)

 

On the first day of January, I chose Prairie Dog not only on my day, but also as an indicator of the essential theme for my 2019.

But instead of having Raven underneath, as I did last year, Beaver showed up.

I have to admit, I was surprised. It was (and still is) feeling like this year is going to have a distinctly different flavor than 2018. So, given my assumptions about last year’s Prairie Dog and how they played out, I wasn’t expecting to pick it again this year.

In fact, it’s almost amusing. As I was walking along our dirt road two weeks ago, passing the entrance to the state park near our home, enjoying the unseasonably balmy weather of that first day of the year, I distinctly remember thinking to myself that I’ve let go of the idea of writing a sequel. At least for now, anyway.

There’d been at least three distinct moments last year when I’d set aside time and immersed myself in my old journals, taking a deep dive into the thoughts and feelings surrounding that time in our lives that feels so important for me to share as the next step in our grand adventure. Each of those entry points into manifesting my intention, however, seemed to be derailed by something momentous occurring within our family that demanded my absolute attention.

My Assumption Wasn’t in the Cards

What I’d assumed that Prairie Dog was bringing me just wasn’t in the cards. That doesn’t mean, however, that PD had been a pick that made no sense. Quite the contrary. I was forced to withdraw from a lot of engagement with the outside world in order to address the stuff that needed attention here at home. And I needed to take care of myself, so I didn’t blow out.

I believe the Raven underneath reflected some major magic and healing that Karl experienced, which translated into coloring my entire world simply because our lives are that inextricably linked. I think I can safely say that neither of us saw it coming. I know I can say the ripple effects will certainly extend well into the future.

And so, here I am. I’m not assuming the Prairie Dog that showed up for this year has anything to do with my writing. And let’s face it: taking on this 1111 Devotion has changed my relationship to my writing profoundly, even if my posts, on average, are pretty short. Writing every day for public consumption is weird. And I’m not sure if or how it’s going to influence whether I tell the next chapter of my story in the form of a book. We’ll see.

Prairie Dog’s Literal Message

“Prairie Dog…calls me

     when it’s time to rest,

When it’s time to honor

     the internal quest.

I go into retreat

     so I may see,

A way to replenish

     The potential in me.”

As I mentioned yesterday, it’s pretty obvious that Prairie Dog could be giving me a very clear and literal  message that I am to lead more retreats this year. (Speaking of which, I need to tell you about a really cool one I’ll be co-leading in May. But I’ll give that its own post.)

Beaver’s Contribution to the Message

Truthfully, given the presence of Beaver underneath this year’s pick, it looks like that could very well be where these critters are leading me. That’s because, beyond the above quote about going ‘into retreat,’ Beaver is all about teamwork and building something with others.

Indeed, a salient paragraph of Beaver is as follows:

“To understand Beaver medicine, you might take a look at the power of working and attaining a sense of achievement. In building a dream, teamwork is necessary. To accomplish a goal with others involves working with the group mind. Group mind constitutes harmony of the highest order, without individual egos getting in the way. Each partner in the project honors the talents and abilities of the others, and knows how to complete the piece of the puzzle that belongs to them. In working well with others, a sense of community is achieved and unity ensues.”

The fascinating thing about this is that this will be the first year I’ve run a retreat with a partner, a co-presenter. And it will be held in a completely different setting than any retreat I’ve run prior to this, with lots of other people involved, and even a different core audience. So there will most definitely be ‘group mind’ at work on a lot of different levels.

Back to Waiting

Now, whether this is how Prairie Dog/Beaver works out in the long run, we’ll just have to wait and see.

Which brings me back to my theme yesterday: waiting.

Is this the year of an active or passive Prairie Dog? Guess I’ll find out.

Either way, it seems obvious I will need to take extra care of myself, since “…Just as Native American warriors knew when to charge forward and when to become invisible, the Marmot tribe knows how and when to retreat. The Prairie Dog runs for the tunnels when a predator is on its trail; in the winter (ahem), it conserves energy by hibernating during the scare time of the cold moons.”

I think I’ll go hunker down now.

Wikipedia.com

(T-1047)

Waiting – Day Sixty Three

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Photo by kids.nationalgeographic.com

Waiting

Man, waiting has to be one of the hardest things to do. Because, obviously, it requires us to not do. And for people who have been taught that not doing is lazy, uninspired, weak, or somehow obviously lacking in the qualities that make one a ‘winner,’ waiting can feel like torture.

Waiting requires patience and, to a certain extent, faith. Faith that in making the conscious decision to step back from activity, from taking action or doing something to change a situation in some tangible, affirmative way (move it forward, take it in a different direction, bring in a new catalyst), you are in fact ‘doing’ the right thing.

And that’s the tricky part, isn’t it?

Doing by not doing?

And Yoda Says…

Sounds so zen and new age-y. Or for those of us who love Star Wars, Yoda-like.

But there’s a huge wisdom to the concept. (Which, duh, is why Yoda espoused it.) And because our society positively reveres action, striving, leaning into, hurdling over, and winning!, waiting can feel like losing. Or giving up.

It can feel like suicide.

So when we’re asked to wait – by other people, institutions, circumstances, or Spirit – we can actually feel more stressed over standing down than we would if we were given a task universally thought to be impossible to achieve. Because doing is better than not doing. Because when asked to do the impossible, we rise to the challenge like starving goldfish to the fish food dispenser. Because even if we fail to achieve that (impossible) goal, if we tried really hard, if we did our best, if we gave it our all, then at least we couldn’t be blamed for not succeeding. Right?

In an informal survey of people close to me, there are a startlingly large number of people being asked to wait as we begin living our version of 2019. I can think of at least a dozen people I know (myself being one of them) being asked – no, directed – to be patient. To wait.

Perhaps we are being asked to allow the rest of the world to catch up to us.

Perhaps the circumstances that we will need to make the most out of the idea we’re percolating, or the deal we know is perfect, haven’t fallen into place yet. Maybe we don’t even know yet what those missing pieces are. And maybe we will never know.

We Need to Trust

Yet they need to fall into place for the rest of our vision to come into being. If we don’t know what they are, but they’re essential to the ‘mission,’ then we need to trust. And wait.

Maybe we’re being asked to give ourselves the opportunity to muster our inner and/or outer resources so that when it comes time to deploy them, they are fully replenished and abundantly accessible and renewable. So we wait.

My point is that we simply Do. Not. Know. And it’s an illusion to always think we know best; that we know how things are supposed to unfold. We know what comes next in our Grand Plan.

If this dance with doing/not doing feels uncomfortably familiar, I feel you.

Last year, on New Year’s Day 2018, Karl and I chose our Medicine Cards like we do every other day. But of course, when we choose on New Year’s Day we accord it special meaning. We ascribe to that pick our theme for the year.

A Prairie Dog Year – Last Year

In 2018, I chose Prairie Dog/Raven.

Prairie Dog’s key word is Retreat. And Raven’s key word is Magic.

To be honest, I was psyched. Toward the end of 2017, I’d started getting the feeling that 2018 was going to be the year I finally, finally stopped talking about it and devoted my time to digging deep into writing the sequel to Owl Medicine.

Good Goddess. I’ve only known the essence of that sequel since I lived it a million years ago.

But it didn’t happen. Instead, it was a really rough year for us in a myriad of ways. It took a lot of my focus to just keep us on track and our eyes forward. There was not a lot of opportunity to give myself the inner seclusion I need to write. No opportunity to retreat – at least, in the way I had envisioned I would, or for the purpose I assumed.

Eventually I had to let go of my certainty that 2018 was the year of writing my next book. (Indeed, I’m so damn tired of even thinking there will be a sequel, I hesitate to even bring it up here.)

I was forced to wait. And wait some more. And pivot. Put out fires. Dance around and make things work, but wait on the urge to complete my manuscript. My work was to keep our collective act together and wait for the Universe to move things – people and opportunities –  I had not notion of a year ago into place that would allow forward movement when the time was right.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I picked my cards for 2019.

(T-1048)

Photo: defendersblog.org