writing

Indulgence – Day Twenty Seven

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 7 Comments

 

Indulgence

It seems I struck a chord with my post on evening silence last night.

Why is it that so many of us find it difficult to give ourselves permission to indulge in those experiences that make us feel wistful when we contemplate them? And why do we consider engaging in those experiences indulgent?

When I started writing this post, I was surprised by how I almost feel naughty when imagining myself basking in evening silence, giving myself all the time I desire to immerse myself in another world for a while or write in my journal. And I could almost hear that same tinge-of-guilt-yearning in many of the comments I read to yesterday’s musing.

What is it about indulgence? Does it mean to give ourselves permission to do something risqué?

Nope!

According to the World Book Dictionary, to ‘indulge’ means: v. to give way to one’s pleasure (in); let oneself have use, or do what one wants; to give in to the wishes or whims of; humor.

Why Do We Make Ourselves Wrong?

I find it fascinating that my knee-jerk reaction to ‘letting myself do what I want’ – particularly something as nurturing as disconnecting from the chaos of the outside world – is something that provokes a vague sense being flighty or irresponsible or, as I said above, slightly naughty.

It’s weird.

Why is the idea of spending our time in ways that bring smiles to our hearts and joy to our eyes considered humoring ourselves?

When I let myself ‘go deep’ and really think about how much time any of us have in a particular lifetime, and how I actually spend my time, I can quickly lapse into a state of pre-melancholy if I’m not careful. There are a lot of things I do mindlessly. A lot of activities that I only do because, ugh – I hate to admit it – ‘everyone else does.’

Start Indulging In the Good Stuff NOW

I do not want to get to the end of my life and wish I’d indulged myself more often.

Because why the hell shouldn’t I indulge myself now? And why shouldn’t you? My indulgences are not of the sort that hurt anyone else. They don’t even harm either my own body or soul, as one might argue excessive drinking or debauchery (what a great word, that) might. While I do not know what your indulgences might entail, I imagine many are of a sweet, creative nature.

Permitting yourself to write those poems. Giving yourself an uncluttered space to paint. Shoving the couch to the side of the room and allowing yourself to dance. Allowing yourself to listen to the wind and play that haunting tune you hear on your acoustic guitar.

I feel a revolution coming on. A revolution of indulgence.

What secret yearning do you hold within that calls for you to humor today? Join me.

(T-1084)

Evening Silence – Day Twenty Six

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 6 Comments

 

Evening Silence

I’m sitting here trying really hard to think of something even remotely interesting to write about tonight.

I’ve turned off the tv much earlier than usual (or at least, earlier than I used to), as I’ve done every evening since beginning the 1111 Devotion project, because it’s just way too distracting to have it on while I’m trying to write and thus the only way I’ll get the job done.

I must admit: I love listening to the silence, especially the silence that descends upon a room immediately upon clicking the tv into oblivion. It never fails to soothe me, no matter what I’m doing in the moment. And just like now, I wonder why I don’t seek evening silence out more often.

I’m calling it evening silence because I don’t seem to ever be tempted to turn the tv on during the day. Of course, a lot of times I’m not in a position to turn one on during the day. I’m not bringing this up as any ‘badge of honor’ sort of thing. It’s just a fact that I only rarely become aware of – but am appreciating much more often as a result of engaging my commitment.

Appreciation: A By-Product of My Act of Power

I guess you could say this appreciation of the evening silence is an unexpected but delightful by-product of this Act of Power. And in a way, it is a means of garnering power.

Even if I might be otherwise watching a program that edifies me in some way, I don’t think I get as much out of it, quite honestly, as I do the silence. Because if I lapse into the normal routine I was in prior to making this commitment, I would retire upstairs as soon as I turned off the tv. I might read my book for a few minutes, but in truth, my actual presence in and appreciation of the evening silence was minimal.

I find myself thinking back on when our sons were growing up, especially the two older ones, Karl and Maximus. Back when Karl was in elementary school, we didn’t get cable at first. We were limited to the three channels (3, 6, and 10) of the major networks, and maybe some UHF channels. Granted, that didn’t last long. But I know it made a difference in the way we spent our time.

Indeed, I sometimes wonder – especially lately – whether that is not a significant liability to my efforts to write the sequel to Owl Medicinehttps://amzn.to/2M6st6B. I’ve become addicted to the political news shows, especially. In some ways, I feel it is my civic responsibility to remain aware and informed. And goodness knows, it becomes harder and harder to peel our eyes away from the latest ‘news.’

But really, I have to ask myself: Is it worth my time? Wouldn’t I rather be spending time in the evening silence, immersed in one of my beloved books? Or writing one of my own?

Yeah, I think I would.

(T-1085)

Library Annex – Day Twenty One

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 3 Comments

Library Annex

I’m excited.

Granted, it doesn’t generally take a lot to make me happy, but I haven’t experienced this particular ‘excitement’ in quite a while.

Karl and I engaged in some serious decluttering this weekend. Oh my goodness; I feel liberated.

Decluttering and Books

Most of my efforts were directed toward rearranging our books. We are incredibly lucky to have a wonderfully extensive – if eclectic – collection. They can be broken down roughly into about ten categories:  metaphysics; shamanism (a subcategory, it could be argued, but we have so many it has to be its own category); writing; science fiction; art/creativity; reference (yep, I refuse to get rid of our bound World Book encyclopedias, various dictionaries, thesauri, atlases); memoir; general fiction/young adult/feminist literature; plant/nature/environmentalism; and divination.

When we purchased our home back in 1985, a significant appeal was the ‘library’ (really just the dining room), which had bookshelves taking up all the free space on every single wall. The former owners had painted the walls behind the stained wooden built-in shelves a dark green, mimicking the deep green felt of libraries of yore.

Naturally, we were obligated to fill those shelves.

And through the years and the raising of three sons, through both lean and flush times, our greatest single indulgence as a family was books. In fact, for many years, it was our tradition to go to Borders on New Year’s Day. Although, truth be told, any excuse would do – and it didn’t have to be the start of a brand new year.

Borders and Barnes & Noble

Travel soccer tournament in Virginia? No problem! We’d just scope out a bookstore that we could retreat to between games. Ideally, we’d look for a local independent store, but for a while there, the easiest finds were the ubiquitous ‘big box’ purveyors, namely the aforementioned Borders and Barnes & Noble. They also had the best hours. Any trip anywhere, no matter where or for what purpose, would always be made better by tracking down a bookstore.

We’d often find something small and local almost everywhere we went because, being the odd ducks that we were, we would seek out the ‘metaphysical’ bookstores. Our experience was that the ‘big box’ stores were resistant to carrying selections out of the mainstream – at least at first. Or maybe I should say, their selections of shamanic books, for instance, were so pathetically inadequate that they would rarely be worth our time. (In other words, they carried Castaneda. Period.)

The appeal, though, of the bigger stores was the selection of magazines they carried. Son Karl would inevitably snag the latest copy of Fortean Times, and as we drove home or to the next soccer game, he would read us outlandish snippets from its pages.

Maximus and Sage would almost always find something to read, at least while we browsed. And lot, a lot, a lot of comedy found its way home from these excursions. Indeed, every Farside anthology published can probably be found somewhere in this house.

Come to think of it, Karl and I used to get teased by our fellow parents at soccer games because we’d never show up without each harboring a book.

Library Annex

Anyway…

My delight in what we worked on this weekend stems from the fact that the bedroom that used to be Maximus’s is now entirely a library annex to our downstairs branch! This has enabled me to free up the shelves downstairs – no more books piled crossways on top of those regularly shelved – or I could say stuffed. And the cool thing is that it doesn’t feel as though I am making room to buy more books, although that will always remain a possibility. (Just so everyone knows, we are dedicated library-goers as well.)

Rather, freeing up our shelves and creating an upstairs library is more of an energetic opening than anything else. It feels like we’re creating more room to allow our creativity to flourish.

And that, my friends, is truly exhilarating.

(T-1090)

Day Nine (T-1102)

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Moose, Moose, and More Moose

In my post yesterday, I described how I interpreted receiving “Moose2” the morning after publishing my “Devotion” post, the first of 1111 posts I’ve committed to writing as an Act of Power and devotion to my son Karl.

And I pretty much focused upon the words I shared yesterday as the essential point drawing Moose was telling me.

So that was Tuesday morning: Moose2 .

IMAGINE my surprise, then, when I made the following choices the rest of last week:

Wednesday:    Moose/Mouse. (Again, the way I’ve written that means I chose Moose as my main pick – and that can be the top card, from the middle, wherever – by ‘top’ card I always mean the main card I consciously felt was the one I wanted to turn or pull out and look at. And Mouse was on the bottom. Literally. The bottom card is always the bottom card.)

Thursday:       Moose/Mouse. (And again, I chose these cards in this specific configuration after Karl had shuffled and made a fresh pick of his own that morning!)

Friday:            Moose/Fox.

Coincidence? Naah

Seriously. Choosing it a second time (on Wednesday) was cool. I immediately just took it to mean Spirit was giving me the aforementioned ‘pat on the back’ for having slogged out a post Tuesday night and published it before the stroke of midnight, even after getting home close to 10:00 p.m. after a really long session at work.

I’m pretty sure I glossed right through the text that morning, possibly because Karl had to leave earlier than usual and I suggested he just get on the road without me having to read it to him again, especially since we’d read it just the day before. (Yeah, we cut corners sometimes.)

With Mouse underneath, I just sort of took it to mean that I was doing well keeping my commitment – and paying attention to the details. Or maybe it was writing about the details. I wasn’t sure, but I did somehow feel that the Mouse was pointing to the fact that the Moose was related to acknowledging the discipline I was exercising in getting the act of writing and posting done.

After choosing it for a third day in a row (on Thursday) we started joking that the card ‘must be bent.’ But it wasn’t.

I had chosen it as I ran out the door for a very early (i.e., crack of dawn) appointment with a loved one. So yet again, Karl and I didn’t ‘read’ our cards until later in the day, when we were safely home in the midst of that very surprising, slippery, and deep (!) snowstorm that hit us.

Reading It Again

Once we were home together again, though, we felt it important to read our cards out loud, paying special attention to my Moose, since it had made a third appearance.

It was only then that I realized Moose was not only giving me ‘atta-girls’ for following through with my commitment, but was also confirming those leanings I’ve started sensing within myself about changes that may be coming as far as my focus in life.

First of all, reading further into Moose, I felt I was being given additional specific confirmation that the whole blog commitment overall is on target:

“The wisdom woven throughout this scenario is that creation constantly brings forth new ideas and further creation.”

That seemed to me to confirm the initial ‘hit’ I’d received about both of us needing to actively engage our creative pursuits as a means of honoring Karl’s life.

More Breadcrumbs

Then I realized as I read further, that perhaps my recent musings on ‘elderhood’ were – again – breadcrumbs leading me forward:

“Moose medicine is often found in elders who have walked the Good Red Road and have seen many things in their Earth Walk. (…)

The elders are honored in tribal law for their gifts of wisdom, for their teaching abilities, and for the calmness they impart in Council. (…)

If you have chosen the Moose card, you have reason to feel good about something you have accomplished on your journey. This may be a habit you have broken, a completion of some sort, an insight on a goal, or a new sense of self that you have fought hard to earn. (…)”

And then the final paragraph of Moose ‘upright’:

“One good exercise in Moose medicine is to write down things that you can love about yourself and your progress in life. Then apply these same things to friends, family, coworkers, and life. Don’t forget to share the findings with others. They need the encouragement as much as you do.”

Spelling It Out

Wow.

Nothing like having it written out before me!  The encouragement to pursue this grand 1111 Devotion, and to realize that I might be starting to walk the path of an Elder. And best of all, that I would be doing it not for myself alone, but to share with each one of you who is choosing to share this journey with me.

Wow indeed. For then I received Moose yet one more time (on Friday). The appearance of Fox underneath emphasized, to me, that this is an act of creativity that is forcing me to allow myself to be noticed. I may seem like I’m cool with talking about all of this, but trust me, I feel naked.

Finally, I want to be clear: I do not think of myself as an “Elder.” If anything, I am on the cusp of Elderhood. I suspect those of you who keep reading may witness a transformation? I don’t know.  I hope so. I guess I feel like I’m a “Cuspy-Crone.” Mmm. Sounds delicious.

Moose’s Message – Day Eight (T-1103)

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 9 Comments

 

Moose’s Message

To briefly recap my post from yesterday, last Sunday (11/11), the 7th anniversary of the death of our son Karl, I received the inspiration (and subsequent confirmation from several sources) that the best way to honor our son’s life as a creative, amazing person was for my husband to paint (he is a visual artist) and for me to write. Upon receiving this ‘message,’ more specifics were conveyed, and the concept of the 1111 Devotion became manifest.

Then last Monday night I published my initial Devotion post, following through on my acknowledgment of the message from Spirit and publicly committing to this Act of Power.

I need to admit that I’ve shied away from publishing my blog consistently for a myriad of self-deprecating reasons, which I won’t bore you by enumerating. Suffice it to say, I guess I’m ‘over that.’ Or at least I’m being forced to let go of those old beliefs, since if I indulge them, I simply will not have the wherewithal to go forward with this commitment.

There’s probably a wonderful energetic confluence here. I’ve been thinking a lot about wisdom and ‘elderhood’ lately. What it means to be an elder and how our society has, in many ways, concomitantly lost respect for ‘elderhood’ and actually experienced a dearth of true ‘elders.’

And I’ve been contemplating a ‘change’ in what I do in the world. Not actually thinking about it; more sensing its impending arrival and wondering what it will mean to me. More teaching? Less individual healing work? Returning to writing? Something completely different that I don’t even have on my radar at the moment? I do not know. But clarity does seem to be emerging from a most unexpected place.

I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling both exhilarated and more than a bit freaked out. I’d declared to the world (my world, at least – the people who care enough to read my words and, perhaps equally important, my Self) that I was going to write a blog post every single day for 1111 days (over three years!) as a devotional act dedicated to the memory of my son Karl.

I was curious to see what I would pick for the day. Would it be a card that would tell me I should run and hide (Prairie Dog, for instance)? Or that I’d done something really dumb to sabotage myself or my reputation (Coyote)?  In spite of the knowledge that I might receive such a message, I must admit: I felt OK, deep down in my heart of hearts, about making such a wild commitment. And I felt that even if I received a kick in the pants, or a challenge to my confidence, I’d be OK. I’d do my best to follow through. And that would have to be enough. (And honestly? Feeling that sense of peace that however this plays out will be ok was – and is –  bizarre.)

Needless to say, since you already know, I picked:   Moose2.

And because I ended up writing a detailed explication of what ‘squared’ means and how we would interpret it, I’m just going to fill you in on the parts of Moose that jumped out at me that morning.

Right off the bat, the poem at the beginning touched my heart:

 

“Moose…

Help me to honor the gifts I can give,

And recognize my worthiness long as I live.”

 

In talking to Karl about this undertaking, he encouraged me to believe that sharing my thoughts about everyday things might actually be of benefit to someone. I’ve been skeptical of that attitude for a long time. (This isn’t the first time he’s encouraged me to ‘write more.’) But let’s be honest. If I’m going to write 1111 posts, I’m going to be talking about a lot of mundane stuff! I take for granted how quirky my perspective can be sometimes. Maybe Moose was telling me that quirkiness just might be a gift, as is my ability to convey it.

The ‘headline’ attribute assigned to Moose in the cards is “self-esteem.” Well, that was self-evident. I should feel good about the decision.

The first paragraph only served to bring this idea home:

 

“Moose is found in the North of the medicine wheel, as is Buffalo. North represents the place of wisdom. Self-esteem is the medicine of Moose because it represents the power of recognizing that wisdom has been used in a situation and that recognition or a pat on the back is deserved.” (ital. added)

 

I had to laugh out loud, though, when I came to this sentence in the following paragraph.

 

 “…The bellow of a male Moose can be viewed as a positive force, since it represents his willingness to ‘tell the world’ about his feelings.”

 

I’d read this a million times before, but of course it took on an entirely new and deeper meaning when applied to me deciding to publicly commit to sharing my thoughts (and feelings) ‘on-line’ for the next 3+ years.

The next paragraph, to my delight, seemed to capture the shift I was feeling within myself (much to my very own surprise) that was actually encouraging me to engage in this commitment:

 

“This ‘tell the world’ trait contains a joyfulness which only comes with a sense of accomplishment. There is no greater joy than a job well done. This trait is therefore not a seeking of approval, but rather an enjoyment of sharing because of the spontaneous explosion of joy that comes from the deepest part of one’s being.” (ital. added)

 

Yes. That was it! I looked up at Karl as I read these words aloud. He knew:  This was big for me.

Up to this point in my life, every time I thought about writing a blog on a consistent basis, I got snagged on the fact that I knew my ego would be seeking approval. How did I know that? Because I felt I had nothing worthwhile to say.  And as long as that was true, maybe I didn’t.

Somehow, relatively recently, perhaps in contemplation of the fact that I will turn 60 in March or perhaps because the stars have aligned and I am finally ready to embark upon the next third of my life, I feel like I’m ready to simply share. And people can take it or leave it. If I am writing every day as an act of devotion to my son, then I am acting with integrity and impeccability as far as I am concerned. And really, all I can do is walk my talk and speak my truth.

I don’t need the approval of others to either give me permission or make me feel like my words or my experiences are of value. That’s a rather astonishing feeling, I have to admit. And believe me, it doesn’t mean I don’t care at all how I am perceived. But a shift has taken place. And I’m taking a step onto a new path. And Moose was there – squared – to offer me initiation.

Silence – Day Six (T-1105)

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 3 Comments

 

 

Silence

When was the last time you spent some time in a place where there was no internet connection? And beyond that, no cell service whatsoever?

Karl and I are sitting before a glowing fire that’s alternately snapping and crackling then spitting and hissing as snowmelt drips down from the top of the chimney. We’re in the main room of a cabin on the bank of the Tohickon Creek. The rushing intensity of the water’s flow as it courses like roiling magma toward the Delaware from right to left just yards off the cabin’s porch is drowned out by the monotonous intensity of a cataract cascading down the rocky boulders of the cliffs across from us.

The creek is at the crest of its banks, filled to the brim from the more than half foot of snow that snuck up on our region only two days ago.

Lack of Choice Brings Liberation? Sometimes…

Darkness has descended upon the forest and when we open the wooden door to fetch more logs, the voice of the creek fills our ears, sounding as if it might carry the cabin itself into the river, as recently chilled air pushes past us to ripen at the fire.

We’re literally only five minutes from our home, but the isolation from electronics is incredibly liberating. And part of that liberation is in our lack of choice. We don’t have to “think” about it one way or another. We don’t have to exercise discipline to resist clicking to check on the latest state of our world; we don’t have to choose to put our devices on airplane mode. We can just be.

It’s an odd feeling, especially for me. I’ve been vacillating for weeks, knowing I’d rented this cabin for the weekend and earnestly wanting to share it with my friends and family, possibly even clients or readers of my Hoot Alerts, who might yearn for an impromptu Listening Retreat. I kept asking Spirit: “Should I offer another retreat? Should I gather my Ayllu*?”

Permission to Just BE

And it never felt quite right to do so. So I didn’t.

It feels a little selfish of me not to share this beauty. This isolation. This opportunity to just be. But I know, intellectually, that we need to take time for ourselves. Maybe we need to be a little bit selfish sometimes, in the sense that we put our need for silence first, ahead, even, of the amazing joy it gives me each and every time I lead a Listening Retreat or Ayllu Gathering.

And that’s where I am as I write this. The meeting of my head and my heart; the place where I allow myself to take a step back from listening to others and give myself permission to listen to the silence.

I am grateful.

—-

*Ayllu is a Quechua word for a band or group of people who share a common lineage or set of teachings and experiences, a concept similar to a “tribe.”

Following the Breadcrumbs – Day Five (T-1106)

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Following the Breadcrumbs

Following is a glimpse into how I sometimes use my journal to put together the seemingly random pieces of information and messages that cross the threshold of my perception.

Last Sunday, shortly after choosing my “cards for the day,” I found myself writing in my journal about the epiphany I’d just had as to how I could honor the memory of my son Karl’s life by engaging in a creative devotional practice – in my case, writing blog posts – “for at least one year (but perhaps 1111 days?),” I wrote. Just the thought of that made my stomach drop.

Where in the world did that cockamamie idea come from? Turned out I’d happened to accidentally click on a post by Seth Godin earlier that morning that had something to do with doing “it” 1000 times. And “it” was writing a blog post.

Seth Godin’s Advice About 1000 Posts

The full title of the post? “The first 1000 are the most difficult.”

“For years I’ve been explaining to people that

daily blogging is an extraordinarily useful

habit. Even if no one reads your blog, the

act of writing It is clarifying, motivating,

and (eventually) fun.”

 

The date Seth’s blog landed in my inbox? October 31st. Why had I saved that post? And why had I just clicked on it that morning?

Yet Another Clue, Another Breadcrumb

As these connections gained clarity in my mind and I started writing them out in my journal, this happened:

“AND THEN – just NOW (I swear), I couldn’t remember Seth’s last name as I wrote the above paragraph, so I looked in my gmail. Couldn’t find what I’d accidentally clicked on this morning (about the 1000) and I wondered if I deleted it. So I searched “Seth” (to get his last name) and the blog post that appeared first and quite prominently (because its title was at the top of the page, and in bold, because I hadn’t read it) was from November 8th and was entitled “If What You’re Doing Isn’t Working.”

“No shit. Seth’s Blog:

“If what you’re doing isn’t working:

Perhaps it’s time to do something else.

 

Not a new job, or a new city,

but perhaps a different story.

 

A story about possibility and sufficiency.

A story about connection and trust.

A story about for and with

instead of at or to.

 

Bootstrapping your way to a new story about

the world around you is one of the most

difficult things you’ll ever do. Our current

story was built piecemeal, over time, the result

of vivid interactions and hard-fought lessons.

 

But if that story isn’t getting you where you

need to go, then what’s it for?

 

It’s entirely possible that the story we tell ourselves

all day every day is true and accurate and useful,

the very best representation of the world as it actually is.

 

It’s possible, but vanishingly unlikely.

 

What if we search for a useful story instead?

A story that helps us cause the change we seek

to make in the world, and to feel good doing it.

 

If you can’t solo bootstrap it, get some help

to install a new story.

It’s worth it.”

After writing this out in my journal just as I did above, I wrote: “Ummm, wow? And as I look back on the search results I see that the “1000” blog post was sent on October 31st. Why in the world did I just see that this morning?? And HOW DID I MISS THE ONE I JUST QUOTED VERBATIM?”

I Have to Give Karl Credit

“Yeah – maybe this is Karl’s way of getting through to me? Asking me to engage in a daily DEVOTION that, by honoring it and my devotion to him and HIS creative life, will open me up to honoring myself and my creative life.

Perhaps this is a new approach to MY story? Is it possible that I just followed some magical breadcrumbs?

If so, THANK YOU. Thank You, Karl, Spirit, my Guides and Guardians. Now please, please help me harness the discipline to engage in this devotion. Hmmm, maybe that’s why JAGUAR was underneath my contrary Dolphin this morning!?”

And that is the way I use journaling to help me follow the magical breadcrumbs in my life.

**It is 11:57 p.m., so please forgive this not being my best effort!

Following My Sonar – Day Four

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Dolphin reversed/Jaguar

I suspect this is going to be anti-climactic, since I’ve delayed writing about it for two days; nevertheless, here is the short tale of how my “pick” for the day on Sunday started the ball rolling toward this mammoth freaking blogging extravaganza. Commitment.

As I mentioned in my Devotion post, when I asked Karl (my husband), how we could best honor our son, Karl’s, life, the “answer” immediately flashed in my head: “Karl must do art and I must write.” I knew it in an instant, and I knew it to be true.

But of course this seemed obvious to me. Our son was relentlessly creative – and probably more talented than both of his parents combined. So yeah, I understood why each of us engaging in our favored creative outlets would be the best way to “honor” his life. So, even though I knew this “answer” had flashed distinctly into my mind, I wasn’t convinced the answer was pure.

Following this initial conversation, Karl and I fell silent, lost in our private thoughts, savoring our early morning coffee, and ultimately choosing our Medicine Cards© for the day. As I described in my “Devotion” post, the intention I held as I chose my cards for the day was specifically, “How can I be of greatest service to the memory of my Bug Pie?” And thus, I chose Dolphin reversed with Jaguar underneath.

As I’ve described before, Karl and I have chosen Medicine Cards© virtually every day for the past 28 years or so. We take the top card we choose as the main card for our day, and we look to the bottom card for “context” or to help us understand better the application or interpretation of the top card. I’ve also described how I make a point of reading the entire description of the top card chosen, in spite of the fact that we’ve been engaging in this practice every day for so many years. (For expediency’s sake, though, we never read the bottom card – we just take into account our general knowledge of the essential characteristics of that card and see if it helps us understand what the top card is telling us.)

As I read Dolphin, I was acutely aware this day of the irony that Dolphin begins with these words:

“Dolphin speaks to us of the breath of life, the only thing that humans cannot go without for more than a few minutes. We can live without water and food for days, but oxygen is the source of our sustenance. …”

Hmmm, yes. It was oxygen, specifically, that Karl was forced to go without – at his peril.

The next part of the essay on Dolphin that spoke to me was:

“Dolphin was given a new job. He became the carrier of messages of our progress. (…) This can be a time when you are to link with Great Spirit and bring answers to your own questions or to those of others.”

The reversal of Dolphin didn’t make a lot of sense to me vis-à-vis my question, except when I read:

“Pay close attention to your health and your feelings. (…) Another message of contrary Dolphin is that many signals are carried through universal tides or waves, and you may be failing to use your sonar.”

It was at this point that the specific word Devotion first came to mind. It popped into my head and I knew without question that I’d not been paying attention to my feelings. I’ve felt something big approaching, some profound change in the nature or scope of my healing work, or my teaching, or perhaps even my writing (which if I’m honest has languished since publishing Owl Medicine in 2001), but I wasn’t “getting it.” I’ve honestly been wondering what “change” was on the horizon, yearning for it to be revealed.

I wasn’t getting it. Or maybe, I wasn’t doing it.

Yet it wasn’t simply the sense that I’ve been ‘failing to use my sonar’ (or failing to listen to what I should be focusing upon and acting upon it). It was also the fact that Jaguar was “underneath,” coloring and adding nuance to this scenario. Jaguar – an archetype profoundly dear to me, both personally and in my work in the shamanic realm. Jaguar – which represents, for me at least, the qualities of integrity and impeccability; qualities that I aspire to live by and hold as the guiding standards for my behavior; qualities that perhaps I wasn’t applying to the message being sent by Dolphin.

It was then that I realized that, yes, the best way I could be of greatest service to Karl’s memory is to write – to not only engage in my creative outlet but in so doing be a “message carrier” – but that I must do so with the integrity and impeccability I hold so dear: I must engage this writing with DEVOTION.

This was (and is) big for me, as I give my writing the least priority of anything else I do.

Thus, as I read Dolphin and its reversal, and coupled it with the exacting standards of Jaguar underneath, I had the feeling that I am being called to a Devotion; to engage in an Act of Power in Karl’s honor: writing a blog post every single day, no matter how long or short, for at least one year.

So where did the leap to 1111 days come from?

Tomorrow. I’ll save that part for tomorrow.

(T-1107)

Devotion

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 14 Comments

Marking an Anniversary

Yesterday marked the seventh anniversary of my eldest son, Karl’s, very sudden and unexpected death. He drowned alone in a hot spring in the No-Man’s-Land of the California desert on the west side of the Chocolate Mountains. He was 30 years old.

I awakened yesterday to text messages from several amazing friends and a handful of family members, each reaching out and assuring me via electronic hugs and tender words that he is remembered. That Karl existed. That he mattered.

Half an hour later I read these kind wishes out loud as my husband Karl and I sipped coffee and looked at each other across the living room, sunlight refracting through cut-glass crystal ornaments hanging in our windows casting rainbow dogs throughout the room. Magic amid sorrow.

Yearning to Honor His Life

“How can we honor Karl’s life?” I asked his father, my husband of 38 years. The answer flashed in my awareness before the final word of my question made its way across the room.

“I don’t know?” his furrowed brow indicating he didn’t want to hazard a guess.

“Yeah, you do. We both do.” I searched his face, my eyes locking with his, knowing he, too, knew instantly. In that moment. As soon as I’d voiced the question.

“Our art?” he asked, doubt dusting the edges of his response.

“Yes,” I affirmed, my heart beating just a little bit faster because he really did know it, too. “Your painting. My writing.”

We just sat there. Looking at each other. “Creation. Creativity. It’s what he was all about. It’s what LIFE is all about,” I added. “And we need to do it without any regard for its ‘worth’ to others. We just need to do it.”

Minutes later, we picked our Medicine Cards© for the day, finished our coffee, and moved forward, silently contemplating what exactly this might mean for each of us.

1111 Devotion – An Act of Power

For me, the cards I chose reinforced the answer to my question. Indeed, they added a specificity that, along with other synchronous indicators I’d encountered within the past 12 days (but only put together yesterday afternoon), resulted in the blog post you are reading right now. My first blog post in 11 months.

Almost always, I choose cards each morning with Karl, over coffee, silently asking, “How can I be of highest service to my self today?” How I came to realize the importance of this question (and how unselfish it actually is, in spite of how it sounds) is perhaps something I’ll address another day. But yesterday, my question was different. It was, “How can I be of greatest service to Karl’s memory?”

I chose Dolphin reversed with Jaguar underneath.

As I will explain, this led me to realize that I am being called to engage in an Act of Power: an act of Devotion, if you will. According to the World Book Dictionary, a definition of devotion is “…3. The act of devoting or setting apart to a sacred use or purpose; solemn dedication; consecration.” Mmm, yes. That feels right.

This blog will be my visible devotion to my son’s memory. My Act of Power. For the next 1111 days, I will create a post. Some may only be a sentence long, for that may be all I can muster. Some may, and let’s face it, almost certainly will, be much longer. The topics may wander all over the map; there is no consistent theme to these future posts, at least from my perspective at this moment, at the outset of this journey. And considering that these posts will take me – us, if you join me – to November 26th, 2021, I probably cannot even imagine the topics that will arise for me to discuss.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I am daunted by the discipline this will take.

But I will listen to the message. I will engage in this act of devotion to my son’s memory. And so, I begin.