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A Stunning Sight – ND #94

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Peace Eagle (Turkey Vulture) Greeting the Morning Sun – Photo: L. Weikel

A Stunning Sight

Looking out both my bedroom and office windows this morning, this was the vision that greeted me. It was a stunning sight.

While I’m feeling a bit of foreboding over what may unfold in Ukraine over the weekend, I have to admit that the appearance of this magnificent bird, wings upraised in the morning sun, felt like a symbol of hope.

Vultures are associated with life and death, those liminal states that mark our passages between one reality and another. They’re also experts on cleaning up the environment: these raptors perform the unenviable job of eating the dead. They clear out the remains of those no longer living, thereby making room for the new to be born.

On a Cusp

It feels like the world as we know it is approaching a cusp, a choice point between what’s gone before and what may or may not be our future. I know with absolute assurance that I’m not the only one feeling the weighty nature of this point in time.

I happen to love vultures and was even taught many years ago by a Metis teacher of ours to call them Peace Eagles instead of vultures. We raised our boys to call vultures Peace Eagles. And yet it wasn’t until this very moment as I sit here writing this post that I’m fully comprehending the message of PEACE I received this morning.

Cleanse and Imagine

I’ll gratefully accept that message. But if I’m honest with myself, deep down in my heart I know there will be treachery and brutality in the near term before any such peace comes to pass.

Ah, but there’s also a reason why the feathers of vulture – and its big brother, Condor – are often used to cleanse the energy fields of people and places, especially before ceremony. Those feathers scoop out and sweep away heavy energies that no longer (or never) served the highest good. They also are said to aid in the release of the souls of the dead and disconnect us from attachments to malignant energies.

Perhaps when we think about Ukraine we can imagine a massive Peace Eagle soaring high above the insanity and cruelty, flapping its powerful wings to disperse the toxicity being inflicted upon it into the ethers.

It’s a thought. It’s a strategy to distract our imaginations away from the horrors of war toward creatively envisioning a future of peace, calm, and freedom instead.

Sacred Tool: Feather of a Peace Eagle – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+94)

Doing Grand – ND #93

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Nuclear Steam – Photo: L. Weikel

Doing Grand

While I didn’t take a photo of her this evening, I want to confirm that Princess is doing just grand. It was getting pretty dark when we met up with her this evening, in fact I took the above photo about one minute after treating Princess to two peanut butter baked dog treats. Hey, don’t give me a hard time. Liddle and Middle chose to stay in their pen and didn’t come out to say hello to us. So yeah…I spoiled Princess.

Lately, we’ve been noticing that Princess doesn’t seem to recognize me when I wear my heavier winter coat. That coat is blue. But every time I wear my yellow jacket, she runs out to greet me.

I should clarify: there are times when I occasionally want to sneak past Princess’s field undetected. Usually it’s because I’ve forgotten the larger baked pup treats I like to share with her. The teeny tiny training morsels we give to Brutus and Pacha and almost always have in our pockets, while she definitely seems to snarf them up enthusiastically, seem to barely register with her. Consequently, I like to try to skip the whole situation when I happen to forget the Princess treats (as we’ve come to calling them).

How to Trick a Pig

First of all, I’ve discovered that if I want to remain undetected, I cannot be having a discussion when approaching her field. Nor can I be listening to a podcast without my earpods. If she hears voices approaching, she knows she could be looking at a potential treat dispenser, so she tears in our general direction, covering ground across the field like a heat-seeking missile.

In order to sneak past pigs, then, your number one lesson is to be silent.

The next strategy effective strategy, apparently, is to wear a blue coat. This has been discovered quite by accident, but it does appear to be pretty reliable (as long as we remain quiet). Whenever I wear my heaviest winter coat, she doesn’t seem to see me – or at least it’s been much easier to escape her attention.

But when I wear my yellow jacket? She notices me. As soon as she catches sight of us, she sprints across the field and escorts me, practically prancing, along the fence line to the place where I always give her treats.

The second way to sneak up on a pig: wear blue.

Are Pigs Colorblind?

I don’t know if pigs are color blind. It sounds like they aren’t entirely color-deprived (as far as their eyesight goes.) But their sight may definitely be less rich than ours.

Lucky for me, tonight she caught sight of me just as I started climbing the hill toward her pen. Her enthusiastic greeting was sweet and always makes me smile. (Brutus enjoys touching noses with her each and every time we give her treats. Pacha, meanwhile, is a little too high strung around Princess. She sort of lunges at her and we don’t want Princess to lash out because she’s taken by surprise at Pacha’s furtive movements.)

I had plenty of treats with me today, so there was no need for us to go into stealth mode. Good thing, too. I was wearing my yellow jacket.

Princess (Middle and Liddle, too) but not today – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+93)

Not Alone – ND #92

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Cloud Peeper – Photo: L. Weikel

Not Alone

It’s getting harder and harder to watch the news or even read headlines anymore. The world certainly does appear to be coming apart at the seams. From war to plague to cataclysmic climate change, the temptation to just retreat into my own close circle of nature and people and books is almost irresistible. And I’m sure I’m not alone in that feeling.

I vacillate between feeling it’s my responsibility to pay attention (just like I feel with respect to domestic politics and witnessing the alarming rise of autocracy and fascism in the Republican party) and wondering just how much difference my attention makes.

I cannot in good conscience pretend that the brutality inflicted on Ukraine and its people by Putin isn’t happening. And I do believe it’s only escalating – which begs the question of how this can possibly end well. Even thinking about putting myself in the shoes of everyday Ukrainian people, my mind balks at the prospect. Would I stay and fight? Would I leave, determined to make a new life and help my country from an ostensibly safer place?

These questions are impossible to answer until we’re personally faced with the harsh reality of circumstances we can no longer avoid. We can imagine how we’d react – but truly, we have no idea until we’re in the thick of it.

No Walk Today

At least some of my unsettled feelings are probably stemming from the fact that I didn’t walk today. The weather was utterly miserable – the worst kind of cold, wet, and nasty that Spring can hurl at us – and that season hasn’t even arrived yet, technically. It seemed to be raining, drizzling, sleeting, or spitting snow globs at us all day. I know this influenced my imagining of the plight of the Ukrainian refugees because temperatures have plummeted there, too.

I’m hopeful I’ll manage to get a walk in tomorrow and perhaps receive a new perspective on the travails of our time.

In the meantime I’m offering you a photo from yesterday. The clouds were so swirly and beautiful, I just had to capture them. So it’s amusing to see a Cloud Peeper so prominently singing. I would’ve missed him entirely had I not taken this picture with the intention of simply sharing something beautiful with all of you.

(T+92)

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)

It’s Wild Outside – ND #90

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Foreboding – Photo: L. Weikel

It’s Wild Outside

Wow, it’s wild outside. The wind is whooshing, whipping, sighing, and occasionally pelting rain down upon us. It doesn’t take a meteorological degree to know that the temperature outside is plummeting and we’ll be back to taking walks with neck gators and mittens augmenting our winter jackets.

Yeah – this is March weather. Wild and wooly. Unpredictable. Possibly a little scary with the way it can turn on a dime.

I knew I should’ve tried harder to take a photo of Pacha and Brutus this morning. They were absolute maniacs, reveling in their newfound freedom, tearing around the yard tackling each other, spinning, whirling, rolling, and occasionally flipping end over end (ass over tea cups?) (or is it ass over teakettle?). Not only were they exuberant over the mild temperatures, they also seemed completely buzzed by the rising winds and the cacophony of sensual overload they brought. It was as if the pups were experiencing the unsettling effects of our version of the Santa Ana winds.

Everywhere You Look

It seems like everywhere we look we can find evidence of behavior that could fall into the ‘Santa Ana’ category – that defies belief. I guarantee that on any given day you can find at least a dozen stories of people saying or doing things that just make you say, “What the hell are they thinking?” And in some cases, “Who do they think they are?”

Of course, it’s one thing to be dealing with two seven month old puppies hell-bent on tackling each other and ripping their chew toy away from each other. It’s quite another to be dealing with a national leader who cynically keeps his people propagandized and weak, lies with impunity, and deliberately thumbs his nose at all civilized rules of engagement, creating a culture of abject terror.

I find Putin’s nuclear posturing and veiled threats the worst kind of despicable. There’s no negotiating with a person like this. He’s incrementally taking more and more and more, without fear that he’ll be stopped, all because he the rest of the world now looks upon him as having been touched by the Santa Anas.

“Will he?” “Won’t he?” “He wouldn’t dare.” “Oh my God, he went there.”

He will use any excuse to ‘go there.’ He’s at the point where no good can come of this war; there can be no saving of face. He will decide he’s been dissed by us (and by that I also mean NATO) when he feels like it. While we dither and choose not to take advantage of the 40 mile long convoy being stuck in the muck because we refuse to breach a ‘no-fly zone,’ he will spontaneously decide to deem some random effort of support to Ukraine an equally egregious breach. And then do what he wants.

In the meantime, how many people will be permanently uprooted from their homes, from their families? How many cities, bridges, airports completely destroyed?

Where’s the Line? Photo: L. Weikel

Taking a Stand

It isn’t as if good faith negotiations are taking place. This entire fiasco is built on pretext and lies. Supposed cease-fires and evacuation routes are a mirage and enable the invaders to perpetrate even worse crimes against civilians (like leaving IEDs that look like children’s toys).

We can’t be afraid of someone who would order such atrocities. We can’t insist on playing by the technical rules when he refuses to play by them as well. What point is there for rules of engagement when only one side honors them?

My gut tells me he will wreak death and destruction for as long as he can and then decide on a whim, on a pretext, that the West has stepped over the line – a line he arbitrarily chooses. And then he’ll do what everyone is tiptoeing around right now. Why? Because he totally doesn’t give a shit. Not about his people, not about the Earth.

And there’s nothing we can do to change that reality. I hope we don’t sacrifice Ukraine to the “surely he won’t do that” crowd.

(T+90)

Blanket of Warm – ND #89

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Rabbit and Schnauzer Cloud Beings – Photo: L. Weikel

Blanket of Warm

Wow, was it warm out today. Holy cow. I thought I’d looked at the weather forecast a day or so ago and I could’ve sworn it wasn’t supposed to warm up significantly until a day or two from now. Apparently I was mistaken. The shock of walking out the door and expecting it to be a bit chilly, only to be whapped in the face by a blanket of warm, bordering-on-hot, air, was unsettling.

Perhaps I would’ve embraced the warmth today a little bit more had I been expecting it. Geesh, that makes me sound rigid. And perhaps even petulant.

Nevertheless, the warmth of the day inspired me to get outside and get things moving. I cleared the yard of a bunch of sticks and broken tree limbs. I tell myself they’re fodder for the next fire we have, hoping having kindling at the ready will encourage more of them.

Even the Clouds

Even the clouds got in on the act today. I was delighted to see a very obvious gigantic and ferocious rabbit bantering playfully with a puppy right before my eyes. Indeed – to my eye – the puppy might even be a Schnauzer.

By the time I got ‘round to Princess, Middle, and Liddle this evening, they’d apparently bedded down for the night. It was dark out and not a snuffle nor a snort was heard emanating from their enclosure. Guess I’ll have to catch them tomorrow.

The Best Part

But by far the best part of tonight’s walk was the magnificent chorus of tree frogs and peepers. They’re definitely erupting from the mud early this year – in fact, I’m pretty sure they first started singing on the last day of February! That just seems way too early.

I sometimes think the ones that are my favorite are not the ones that sound brave or never, ever tire. The peepers I like the best are the ones that have extremely deep and gravelly voices. I’ve conjured images of them in my mind that undoubtedly have nothing in common with what they actually look like.

They do seem to be getting louder and louder each night, though. They were nearly deafening tonight and could be heard at least a half mile away.

I wonder if they have peepers in Ukraine?  If they do, do they know enough to be quiet at critical moments? Or are they simply blasted out by the overwhelming noise of war?

I saw a terribly sad story of a young woman who was killed last night. She was helping deliver supplies to a dog shelter.

All these heartrending stories of lives disrupted as a result of a deranged man who wants what he wants and is willing to tell lies and sacrifice the lives of millions to get it. I can’t go there tonight.

I’d rather listen to peepers and see Cloud Beings masquerading as rabbits and puppies.

(T+89)

In Perfect Timing – ND #88

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Cherry Sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

In Perfect Timing

As much as I hoped to devote time this weekend to working on those seeds I wanted to plant at the new moon last week (eye roll), I’ll admit to all of you: I’ve yet to sit with this the way I’d hoped. Timing is everything, and I may be in perfect timing – or I may have missed my chance. Perhaps I’ll never know.

Oh, I worked on stuff that cannot be ignored. It’s not as if I took a siesta from life and just immersed myself in a novel or something. No; instead of engaging in the contemplation I yearn for, I worked on getting our tax information together. Ugh. Talk about a thankless job.

But you know what? I realize even as I write this: the anxiety I feel over this process has less to do with reality and so very much more with remembering traumatic times from years ago. Like back before I knew about Quicken and had to go through my checkbook registers line by line and put things together for the accountant.

Yeah, we’re talking good times.

Cherry Sunset from Afar – Photo: L. Weikel

Clearing the Decks

I had a choice. I could’ve decided to simply sit with my journal and let myself rip – get down and dirty with my deepest, truest dreams for the next two and a half years.

Instead, I chose to take that time and, instead, clear the decks. It’s a risky business; I know that. It’s always dicey, wondering whether you’re avoiding introspection by committing to completing an unpleasant but necessary task. And sometimes, I suppose, it’s both.

And it’s not to say that I have any reason to avoid setting those new moon intentions. But it can be difficult sometimes to know with certainty what they are. Do I set the same (or remarkably similar) intentions as I have been known to set in the past? Or do I throw it all out and commit to something entirely different?

Simple Pleasures

All I know is, after working on tax preparation all afternoon, I was very ready to take a walk. And my day was made complete by a reunion with Princess, Liddle, and Middle. I’ve discovered their favorite treat (a small peanut butter biscuit) and their joy in snarfing them up (one each!) in turn makes me happy.

It’s the little things in life.

Liddle, Middle, & Princess Smiing and Happy – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+88)

Thoughts and Expectations – ND #87

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Waxing Fingernail (new) Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

Thoughts and Expectations

When I walked out of the house early this evening – actually, just after we got home from our walk – I was bowled over by the profound clarity and beauty of the night sky. In particular, the new moon, having grown just enough to be a fingernail in the western sky tonight, was especially prominent. It felt like its sharp, sickle-shaped body sliced right into my heart when I allowed myself to pull over, just take in the moment, and let go of all my thoughts and expectations.

The evening sky was a gradation of color, from overripe plums (but sharper and clearer) to an otherworldly sapphire. I just walked outside again – hours later (it’s just past midnight) – and of course the moon has set. But the stars…oh my, the stars feel like they’re vying for my attention.

I find myself wanting to simply be in the energy of this night sky, this new moon. I just wish it were a little bit warmer. But inevitably, the weather does turn a little bit warmer. And what happens? The sky never quite regains the icy clarity of a winter sky.

Life is weird like that.

Intentions

As I mentioned a few days ago, this new moon that we just experienced in Pisces is packing a wallop. There are a lot of volatile aspects playing out between the planets with drama and sudden transformation playing crucial roles.

While I discussed the power behind contemplating and planting intentions on this new moon, I myself have yet to devote any alone time to really sorting out what I want to plant right now. When I took the accompanying photos of the moon tonight, I felt her. I felt her sluice me open to demand that I give myself the respect to contemplate my dreams.

This past week I accomplished a lot on behalf of other people. If pressed, I could say that completing those tasks, fulfilling those promises, were part of my new moon intentions. But now it’s time to mine my own treasure.

I refuse to believe it’s too late to plant the seeds of my dreams that may take much longer than one month to manifest. If I’m dreaming of manifestation within a longer lunar timeline, then something tells me setting the intention within just a few days of the precise conjunction between sun and moon in Pisces is still great timing.

So that’s my goal (ok, one of them) this weekend. Planting the seeds of my future for the next two and a half years. To be clear, I’m planting those dream seeds now, with Sun, Moon, and Neptune in Pisces. Neptune, the planet of dreams (among other things), is in its home sign of Pisces (it entered Pisces again in 2012 for the first time since 1862!), and will remain there until 2026. It feels important to put some thought into this. Perhaps you have already done so. If not, let’s make this weekend our dreaming-the-seeds-we-want-to-plant weekend, shall we?

Waxing new moon – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+87)

All I Can Do – ND #86

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Tonight’s sunset – Photo: L. Weikel

All I Can Do

Sometimes it’s all I can do not to just collapse into doom and gloom. I know that’s true for so many of us, watching from afar as chaos unfolds in Ukraine. We’re essentially helpless to stop the carnage. Sure, we can donate to organizations that can help the Ukrainians directly, either by providing food, clothing, shelter, transportation, and even defensive protection or by signing petitions, showing up in person at embassies or elsewhere – in other words, engaging in peaceful protest.

But then we’re confronted with insanity. How do you counter a leader who is muzzling his own people, shutting down all news organizations other than those spouting state-sanctioned propaganda, and even forcing his soldiers to drag around mobile crematoria that will clean up the evidence of Russian deaths, keeping his people ‘back home’ in the dark.

And we all know the tenterhooks the world is on now that we’re seeing shelling of Europe’s largest nuclear facility. Shelling a nuclear facility? What fresh hell is this madman aiming to create? And why would he shell a nuclear plant so close to his own border?

Today’s Fox – Photo: L. Weikel

Shift In Focus

There’s just too much unhinged behavior to even contemplate at the moment.

So I want to share with you the sweet sighting I had today as I walked. Nice little fox, wouldn’t you say?

I’ve tried to make it bigger, but it was still a stretch for my iPhone.

I also saw at least five red-shouldered hawks. I got a photo of one of them, but it’s hard to pick the bird out because it swooped down and against the backdrop of the trees at the edge of the field. If I could translate the ‘live’ action of iPhone’s live photos into the blog, I wouldn’t hesitate to post it. But I can’t.

Finally, Karl and I saw at least 28 turkeys cross the road ahead of us. Crossing from a field into the woods for the evening, where they’re undoubtedly roosting this minute, we counted at a minimum 28 birds. Amazing. And what an abundance of blessings.

Sorry – no photo of the turkeys we saw tonight. I couldn’t get close enough. But here’s one of other turkeys we’ve encountered.

Turkeys in the ‘hood – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+86)

Neighborly Collaboration – ND #85

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Not the ones that were chased last night – Photo: L. Weikel

Neighborly Collaboration

During our walk yesterday, Karl and I had a chance to engage in some neighborly collaboration. Actually, we ended up working like a well-oiled machine. We impressed ourselves.

It all began when a large pick-up truck approached us just as we were setting off on our late afternoon sojourn. The truck, headlights inexplicably on high beam, slowed significantly as it pulled up next to us. The passenger side window was already rolled down and a young boy of about 8 years old looked out at us. A girl of about 13, presumably the boy’s older sister, was in the back seat, with her window rolled down about halfway.

“Have you heard any dogs in the last few minutes?” the driver asked, leaning toward us from the driver’s side.

“Other than the wolfhounds?” I laughed, gesturing ahead of us. We could all hear the wolfhounds barking and baying only yards away where we were now.

“Yeah – no,” he replied. “Beagles. We have two Beagle pups who took off. We’ve been searching for them for a couple hours now.”

Ugh. How awful. We cringed at the thought of losing Brutie and Pacha.

Contingency Plan

While we hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary or noticed any ‘loose pups’ on the prowl (so far), I wrote down the dad’s phone number just in case.

To be honest, we almost forgot about the loose puppies. We saw and, more importantly, heard no evidence of any Beagles. Pushing forward, turning right, up a big hill, we walked at least a mile before a herd of deer suddenly started tearing across a field to our right. We stopped. Cocked our heads. “BOW, bow, bow,” the plaintive cry of a Beagle, albeit muffled by the clatter of hooves tearing up clods of dirt, could be heard.

We strained to see what was going on, where the deer were headed. The deer were clearly confused and in disarray, running this way and that. We worried the pup would cross the road in front of us and herd the deer – and him or herself – right off the High Rock cliffs to our left, plunging them into the Tohickon.

Meanwhile, I fumbled to call the pup’s “Dad” to let him know at least one was here. I’d written his number down on the notepad of my phone – not input it directly into my phone. (I really didn’t think we’d encounter the pups. Just goes to show you!) I eventually managed to get through and described where we were. He said he’d come as fast as he could.

The Hunt

No sooner did I hang up but the deer and dog disappeared into a forest in the far distance to our right, across a golden field. In what seemed like an eternity but was probably only five minutes or so, if that, the dad and kids showed him up. As they pulled up alongside of us, we could see (and hear) a beagle in the back seat bouncing around with the sister.

“Did you find one of them already?” Karl asked.

“Yup. This other one has been a devil to catch,” the Dad tried to grin, referring to the Deer Chaser still on the loose.

“Well, he took off that way,” and I pointed ahead and across a vast field.

After saying thanks again, they drove ahead, chasing the elusive Spade. Or was it Rip?

We ended up texting back and forth over a span of an additional 10 or 15 minutes, as the little devil tore back and forth over a span of probably six or eight vast fields and tracts of woods. We co-located them using the home of the wolfhounds as a reference point, for they were directly northwest of us ‘as the crow flies.’

Yep. I literally used that expression when texting the dad.

Success!

By this time, the sun had completely set and it was nearly dark. The pick-up truck doubled back and rolled down their windows.

“Got ‘em! Thanks so much for all your help!”

Karl and I cheered. It felt great to help a neighbor out. We were sure they’d have a better night now that their pups had been found. Neighborly collaboration. Guess we’re seeing that both locally and globally.

(T+85)