words matter Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Never Challenge Worse

Here we are, living the last week of 2021. If nothing else, I trust this year has been an object lesson in the truth of the adage: “never challenge worse.” Last year at this time, I cringed every time I saw someone declare how 2021 would haveto be better than the abysmal year we’d just experienced. And it didn’t take long for everything to fall apart to an even greater degree than it had before.

Even the dramatic inroads that were made vis-à-vis vaccine availability and the possibility that opened up to get the virus under control seemed promising – at first. But alas, we know how things unfolded in that area. I don’t need to hash and rehash here.

The same goes for our political leadership. We thought we dodged a bullet. And undoubtedly we did. But now it seems we’re realizing we better hope we’re capable of dodging a bazooka. Or maybe a grenade launcher. Or heaven forbid – a nuke. Because the bullet we dodged was, viewed with a longer-range lens, probably the least of our worries.

Can’t Close Our Eyes

And that’s the rub, isn’t it? We keep thinking, “It can’t get any worse.” And yet it does.

What do you remember thinking and feeling as you sat before your television or computer screen on January 6^th? I can tell you what I wrote about that night – fresh from the experience. This is my post from that night.

Even more surprising to me? I just searched my posts with the key word insurrection and discovered 26 entries. But even more chilling is my first mention of insurrection: the warning I wrote the night of September 21, 2020. I’m equally surprised by my entry the evening of January 3, 2021. And wow – I called it on the evening of January 6^th.

I’m not providing these links as proof that I’ve got some super cool oracular powers. Far from it! If you read the posts, you’ll see I actually just stated what was right before our eyes the whole time. And if I could see it, we all could see it. But our eyes seemed to be firmly slammed shut. I dare say the Capitol Police felt unheard and unseen.

Calm Before the Storm

I don’t want to be an alarmist. Indeed, I seek peace. I yearn for justice and equality. I do my best to promote communication and connection. But I’m feeling a sense of foreboding. This week feels like the calm before the storm.

My worry – as is being conveyed in other outlets; I don’t claim to be a singular sage – is the lack of accountability. The fact that 51 weeks have gone by with no major players or instigators being indicted is exponentially emboldening the insurrectionists. We cannot let this stand without imperiling everything we rely upon and hold dear in this country.

And I don’t think it will simply play out, lah-dee-dah, and disappear into the memory hole. No. I suspect within the very near future we’re going to see other additional direct attempts to subvert our democracy. Or perhaps we’ll finally see some well-investigated and highly documented indictments (and then convictions, if our system works at all).

Either way, I’m not betting 2022 is going to be a ‘relief.’ It may, however, bring relief. If we can manage to keep our republic.

(T+20)

Photo: L. Weikel

Words Matter

I’ve written a lot about the importance of words. The impact words have on shaping our reality is huge and filled with responsibility.

Often we do not fully realize the power of our words until we witness first-hand how we often manifest, quite literally, usually, precisely what we tend to repeat over and over in our everyday conversations.

Anyone who’s spent any significant amount of time with me knows how I tend to pay attention to the words that come out of people’s mouths. Because I was taught manifestation techniques early on in my metaphysical studies (I’m talking back in the late 80’s here – yikes), I’ve tried to live my life with awareness of what comes out of my mouth.

Words Hold Power

As a result, we also taught our sons the power of words and encouraged them to take responsibility for what comes out of their mouths. And for the most part, they tend to be careful in the words they choose (OK, with maybe some profanity not getting ‘canceled,’ since, well… I don’t know. Bad example?)

But it wasn’t until our youngest son adopted a cat about four years ago that we all learned just how powerful names are, too.

While in college, Sage adopted a mature cat from an adoption agency associated with a local pet food and supply store. He immediately dubbed the cat “Wally,” after a friend’s cat he’d known who had a similar laid back attitude and luxuriously soft coat.

Wally was obviously pleased to have been liberated from his caged existence. He was always happy to see Sage when he’d get back from class, and he was a welcome addition to Sage’s life, for the most part.

But after a month or two, Wally seemed a little different than when he’d first been adopted. He became noticeably more shy. He would duck when anyone reached out to pet him, as if he might get hit. And while he was always glad when Sage returned to his room, he was starting to hide in places and not come out unless we went looking for him.

Within another month, Sage was frustrated and it was discovered by housekeeping that he was harboring a four-legged, which wasn’t exactly within the rules of the residence in which he was living.

Happy to Reclusive

“Mom?”

As soon as I heard the precise tone and inflection of that “Mom?” I knew I was going to be asked to cat-sit. Of course, I was right. Within days, Wally was delivered.

We all started giving Sage a hard time, because this cat was such an anti-social beast. Indeed he almost rivaled our psycho-kitty, Precious. But he didn’t howl or act bizarre. No, Wally simply hid. We teased Sage as to why in the world he picked him out to adopt. Sage swore he hadn’t acted like that when he’d visited the cat in the store several times before taking the plunge.

That may have been the case, but he wouldn’t come out from under beds. At all. He didn’t sleep with us. He never seemed to be in the same room as us. We didn’t even see him at mealtime. We knew he must be eating after our other cats ate their fill, but they weren’t fighting. Wally was in full-blown avoidance mode.

Annoyed Tigger – What’s with this “Wally” garbage? – Photo: L. Weikel

Pleading with his eyes

When I would occasionally have a chance to talk to him one-on-one and pet him and scratch under his ears, I started noticing a really weird vibe from him when I would call him by his name; when I would coo “Sweet Wallys” in his ear. He looked like he was pleading with his eyes for me to figure something out. Something that would ease his pain.

I started mentioning to Karl (Sage was back at school by this time) that I felt like he didn’t like being called Wally. I told Karl the cat got a weird look in his eyes when I’d call him by that name.

(Karl gave me a weird look when I said this to him; so I was getting weird looks from everybody.) But still, weeks went by, and Wally was very seriously miserable and reclusive.

Eventually, it was time for us to take Wally in for his booster shots. Sage brought home Wally’s paperwork so I could provide his history to our vet. There, in the paperwork, I discovered Wally’s PRIOR name – the name he’d had when he was left at the shelter: Tigger.

Tigger it was!

I swear to you: as soon as I saw that name on his paperwork, I turned to the cat and asked him if that was his name. Tigger’s eyes lit up. His body language, which I’d not realized was the equivalent of hunched shoulders, immediately relaxed.

That cat morphed before my eyes into his true self: his Tigger self.

It turns out he’s extremely affectionate and wildly astute in understanding when you’re calling him by his correct name. He gained weight; his fur took on a sheen and softness that is irresistible. And he can now be anywhere in our house – and if I call his name, “Heeeeeeeere, Tiggety Tig!” he comes running. To me. A cat. Running to me when I call his name.

It’s been a long time now since he came to live with us. He’s part of the family now.

But one thing I can tell you is that he will always and forever love me like no other. Because I figured out how to call him by his ‘real’ name.

Names matter.