What a number I just typed into the title line, above. Could I really be writing my last three-digit post tonight?
Numerologically speaking, this feels like an ending, even if I’ve not yet arrived at my goal of 1111 consecutive posts. Nines are completion. Three nines, no matter how you look at them, sort of hammer home the concept of completion. Beyond the simple fact of three nines comprising the number, if you add the nines, 9+9+9 = 27 and then 2+7=9. No matter which way you look at 999, it reduces to a 9, and thus it represents a wrapping up, a conclusion, an end to something.
Not My 1111 Devotion
The number 999 may signify completion of something, on some level, but it does not mean I intend to quit my Act of Power before I reach my goal. No; there remain 112 posts to write, and I intend to write them, Goddess willing.
It represents the end of three-digit posts. That’s pretty lame.
Honestly, I don’t know what – if anything – reaching this number signifies, other than I’m plugging along, doing my thing, honoring my word.
Day after day (technically night after night), I blow a quick kiss to my eldest son when I hit ‘publish’ and whisper, “I miss you so damn much. I remember you every single day. And I do this one little thing each night because I said I would. Because I love you.”
And although it’s a little thing, sometimes that’s the best I can do.
As I’ve said a vast number of times before, it’s the little things in life that make it all worthwhile. Yeah, I’ve written about a lot of the ‘little things’ in my life over the past 983 days, even accidentally titling three separate posts (here, here, and here) ‘Little Things.’ But I’ve never titled a post ‘Snarfing Down a Carrot’ before tonight and yet the snarfing was most definitely another example of a tiny moment that made my day.
In point of fact, and upon reflection, almost every post has been about something most people would view as utterly inconsequential.
Alas, perhaps that’s one of the lessons I’ve learned through this exercise I dubbed my ‘1111 Devotion.’ My life is a tapestry of inconsequential moments; opportunities to assign personal meaning to the shape of a cloud or to realize joy in the midnight song of a catbird.
Or to experience delight when pigs, responding to my calls, run from their pen to greet me with smiles and appreciative grunts. It got even better (in my book) when the swine that snagged the biggest carrot used decidedly covert and deliberate tactics to hide her coup from the other two. Not only did she know she’d scored, she was determined to hide it from the other two.
She knew what she was doing! – Photo: L. Weikel
Laughter and Joy
I’m grateful for the laughter and joy my ‘three little pigs’ brought me this evening. It was quite a juggling act, taking their photos while feeding them carrots, singing their praises, and making sure Spartacus stuck by my side.
But I hope you’ll agree, these photos capture at least a little of their ‘cheek,’ and surely elicit a chuckle.
I was going to pick a card for us to contemplate on tomorrow’s full moon in Aquarius. Instead, I became distracted by my lovely and loving little porkers.
Tributary to a Tributary to Tinicum Creek – Photo: L. Weikel
Green Again
My post last night was ‘hot,’ I know. It’s upsetting to contemplate just how out of balance Earth’s climate is at the moment and how much worse it may become in a very short period of time. As a result, I’m proffering this collection of thoughts and photos to counter the images of a burning planet from last night’s post and to bookend it with the cooler, if not also troubling, content of the post from the night before last. In short, I’m back to green again.
My walk the other day along a secluded and seldom-traveled road that meanders along the haphazard twists and turns of a creek bed was deeply restorative. It’s hard not to feel the juiciness of life being replenished when surrounded by so many shades of emerald, lime, and forest green.
The burble of water tumbling over a rocky streambed comforts me and brings a deep sigh of peace to my soul. I probably don’t need to tell you, those of you who’ve stuck with me on this 1111 Devotion journey, the number of times I’ve been consoled by the creeks that surround my home (but especially, of course, my beloved Tohickon). I doubt if I can ever express my gratitude for ‘life’ leading us to this particular place to raise our sons and cultivate our marriage.
Rocks and Moss – Photo: L. Weikel
A Pause
I’m tempted to take this post in a direction I wasn’t intending when I began writing this evening. That would be the direction of railing against fracking and the intrusion of pipelines near and through the land I love so much both here where I live and also in Northampton County and across the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River) in Hunterdon County, New Jersey.
The devastation to our natural habitats by companies feeding the climate change that’s resulting in unprecedented flooding, wildfires, and drought is supported by the highest court in the land. That’s hard to accept.
Those very same forces are demanding that we return to the Jim Crow era of our country’s history.
But perhaps I should just go back to taking a pause from it all. Let’s take a moment instead to revel in the simple, abundant beauty of the many shades of green in our world.
The Toffee About Which This Is Written – Photo: L. Weikel
Decadent Toffee
Sometimes we need a little help from our friends to get a job accomplished. And my job tonight is to follow through on my nightly devotion and fulfill my Act of Power on behalf of my son Karl. Surely you might think if all I have to do is write something – anything! – each night, then meeting my obligation should be easy. But trust me, that’s an illusion. And that is where the help of my friends, and in this case, decadent toffee, comes in.
There’s no minimum number of words required or specific topics that demand coverage. So what’s the big deal, you might ask? Staying awake. Thinking of something to write about within the vast ocean of life. (It’s harder than you might think.)
Searching For Indulgence
I try not to indulge in my vices too often but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Hmm. Re-reading that sentence, I’m compelled to clarify: The truth is, I try not to write about indulging my vices too often!
If I do a keyword search of my blogs, though, I discover that I’ve mentioned chocolate something like 27 times and Owowcow ice cream at least five times. I have a sneaking suspicion that I must’ve screwed up on that in some way. It seems beyond comprehension that I only mentioned Owowcow 5 times in over 900 posts. Even if I’ve tried to curb my tendency to write about my indulgences – that seems rather unbelievable.
Makes me think I should search the more generic term: ice cream.
Never Mind
Yeah…never mind. I just did said search and, not surprisingly, 33 posts were referenced. But I’m claiming skepticism on this. For instance, I re-read one of the posts that came up under the search term ‘ice cream’ (a post entitled “Double Icing”) and for the life of me, I don’t see that I mentioned ice cream once in that post.
Perhaps I’m distracted by all the talk of cake and icing in that post. After all, the whole point to this post this evening is the fact that I’m so tired that the only way I’m keeping my eyes open at this point is by savoring a few gooey, finger-licking pieces of utterly sinful toffee my kids left on my kitchen table the last time they visited.
Oh. My. Goodness.
Success! Sort Of?
It’s time for bed. I’ve mostly only succeeded in doing a bit of re-con on the posts I’ve written that might qualify me for an Oral Fixation Award.
I do want to give a shout out to Sage and Sarah, though. The toffee got me to the other side tonight. It’s delicious, it’s sinful, the caffeine in the chocolate and the sugar throughout were beyond yummy and helped keep me focused. Sort of.
Note: I did not finish the box. The decadent toffee depicted in the photo above may be somewhat diminished – but self-control was exercised in the writing of this post.
Surely there’s something special about tonight’s post. The pattern of numbers associated with it merits attention. For here I am, writing every night, no matter how tired I am or how mundane my thoughts, all because I promised to write 1111 consecutive posts in tribute to my son; in other words, my 1111 Devotion. Today’s post is # 902 – in numerology, this adds up to an 11. As can be seen at the bottom of this entry, since this is post # 902, that means we have T-209 left. Another 11.
I know, I know. “It’s numbers, Lisa. Also known as math.” It’s also a lot of portals. A lot of doorways. The double ones create a space to move forward, an opportunity to leave, an invitation to enter another dimension.
Sometimes things aren’t as cut and dried as we would like them to be.
Sometimes the obvious is a superficial distraction hiding something really profound.
Something Special
All day today I had this feeling that the day was, in some way, something special. The air appeared to have a crystalline quality to it. (Or maybe that was only when I realized my glasses were covered with pollen.) Gee! How amazing everything looked when I took them off!
Or maybe it’s the eerie realization that that single tone resonating in the back of my mind is actually just one single chime on our porch being nudged by the barely perceptible breeze outside.
Something tells me that the clarity of the day both visually and aurally was connected in some way to the tremendously powerful winds that blew through the area yesterday. New energy arrived. A shift in attitude. A door opened.
Winds of Spirit
Perhaps I should consult the oracle of the Winds – my friend, Renee Baribeau’s, book, Winds of Spirit*.
Hmm. Randomly opening the book for a clue, I happened upon Nilch’i (Navajo) – the Wind of Intuition. Renee suggests: “This wind can be conjured up for inspiration, organization, or ritual, and to provide strength when needed.”
I wonder if we were visited by Nilch’i yesterday. Feels like a distinct possibility.
I barely pay attention anymore to the quantity of posts I’ve written. After all, it doesn’t matter where I am exactly in my 1111 Devotion. What matters is that I show up. But if you’ve read my posts for any length of time, you know I notice and pay attention to patterns. So I guess it’s not a stretch to imagine I’d sit up and give a nod to today’s number.
Today I’m on Day 888 and tomorrow there will only be 222 left to write in order to fulfill my homage to our son. It’s funny; I often feel like an alcoholic as I write these each night: honestly, I can only contemplate fulfilling this devotion one day at a time.
So when people occasionally ask me if I intend to keep writing posts after I reach my goal, I can only, in all honestly, shrug my shoulders. Heck, I’m not counting my chickens about reaching the goal; how can I predict with any credibility at all what I may do if and when I finally get there?
Today’s Photos
I’ve mentioned before how utterly impossible my 1111 Devotion task would be if I couldn’t take photos each day and easily upload them with my iPhone. The visual cues that remind me of each day’s magic are probably a bigger and perhaps better reflection of what really matters to me than the words I write.
Hmm. As I reflect upon that statement, I have to admit it’s not entirely accurate. The reason for that is because I so rarely post photos of the people in my life. And the people with whom I interact in my life, my family and friends, of course – but also my clients and the people I encounter on a regular basis and honestly care about, and even the random people who cross my path (or whose path I cross) in life – matter to me.
Yet I rarely post photos of people. Mostly, I guess, because it doesn’t feel right to do so. There have been a couple of exceptions, but those were usually more of a ‘crowd’ shot than a personal statement or revelation.
But while the people in my life do matter to me, it’s the gifts of Mother Earth that are the treasures that never cease to provide inspiration and hope. And occasionally even some insight – almost always courtesy of my encounters with winged ones or other Beings.
A Bright Spot
Karl and I spent yet another day going through ‘stuff.’ I think we kept hoping the sun would come and out and coax us into taking a walk. But no. The sky remained overcast the entire day, sporting just a tad of a chill, too.
Finally, though, we tore ourselves away from our tasks and set off for a walkabout (the four mile trek). We both knew we needed more than ‘just a two.’
As we rounded a corner on one of the legs of our journey, we gasped at the splash of color that appeared in the midst of not only the gray and dismal day but also the haphazard arrangement of sticks and briars and the dark edge of a forest at dusk.
“Ah,” I said out loud. “There’s something to share on my blog.”
And so I am.*
Photo: L. Weikel
*And what this has to do with today’s number, I’ll never know.
Dinner – Grateful for a gas stove! Photo: L. Weikel
Man, I sure can tell Mercury Retrograde is having its way with me this evening.
If this post looks weird (not solely due to its probable lack of any photos), it’s because a couple of factors are coming together to create a whirlpool of irritating hurdles to fulfilling my 1111 Devotion.
First of all, our electricity has been out for at least three hours or so.
Second of all, although I have written and posted before via my WordPress app on my phone (namely over the recent wedding weekend), my iPhone spontaneously installed an upgraded operating system the other day and totally changed a BUNCH of things. (This occurrence in and of itself almost yielded a rant-post.) But no…tonight I discover this “update,” “upgrade,” or whatever you want to call it actually wiped out some of my apps! And of course – you know it – WordPress is one of them.
Perils of Rural Living
Most of us are spoiled. We pick up our phones and no matter where we are, we expect reasonable cell service. It may not be wi-fi fast, but it’s usually half decent. Well, not if you live in the country. I often have to go to a room on the top floor of the house to get good enough reception not to randomly drop a call (although reception still may go in and out). Sitting here at this moment beside my fireplace, for instance, I have one damn bar of LTE service. UGH.
You can imagine, then, the length of time it took to download the WordPress app back down from the cloud. Frankly, I’m amazed it’s actually back on my phone in time for me to write this.
So here I am, looking at this ‘version’ of WordPress, and I swear to you, IT LOOKS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THAN THE SET UP I USED A MERE THREE WEEKS AGO. What is UP with this!? I want to scream. I feel like I’m being forced to reinvent the wheel (in my head) every time I try to get something accomplished.
And just…WHO KNOWS if I’m going to have enough oomph in my cell service (miracle of miracles, I DO have some decent battery life left in my phone) to upload a photo or two? And as an aside? I have no idea how to add a photo to this post – because of the completely different set-up. Ermagod.
A Reprieve For You
Probably the most fortunate beneficiaries of my electronic-related aggravation are you, my wonderful, caring, patient, stressed-out readers. Just think: at least you were spared a missive from me referencing anything remotely related to ONLY THE MOST IMPORTANT ELECTION IN OUR LIFETIMES the day after tomorrow.
Oops.
Have a great election eve, my friends. And yes, I am including my readers from afar, because let’s face it: this election has world-wide ramifications. We Americans better not screw this up a second time. I fear there won’t be any more opportunities for a ‘do-over’ if we let this slip through our fingers.
P.S.: All I can say is, I’m sure glad this loss of electricity didn’t occur the day after tomorrow…what with our electronic machines and everything. (OMG.)
Ah yes. There’s a question. You’re probably puzzling in your brain to which of the myriad unfathomable situations we’re being faced with day after day, week after week this cataclysmic year of 2020 I could possibly be directing this plaintive bleat. You’ll probably never guess; so I’ll just lay it out there: Why has Facebook decided to change – in the middle of a damn pandemic and everything else – the format we’re all comfortable with looking at and navigating? WHY????
I know; I ask myself the same thing. Really, Lisa? Quite frankly, it annoys me that it annoys me. I’m chagrined by my disturbance. I want to punch myself in the arm, give myself the silent treatment, and perhaps even put myself in a time out for giving a crap about stupid Facebook.
First Offense
It was earlier this week that FB seemed to randomly change up my account to inflict the new layout on me. I was immediately off-put and found the tab where I could switch back to “Classic” FB. (They really should take a lesson from Coca Cola). The reason why I was so quickly turned off by the new format? It would not let me copy and paste the link to that evening’s 1111 Devotion post in my status. I tried every which way that I could think of – even trying to post it first on one of my other pages (Owl Medicine and Owl Medicine Shamanic Healing). Nope.
So before I managed to track down the “return to Classic” link, I painstakingly hand typed in the whole long link address to my blog. And now, four or so days later (and notably, before September, when they said the switch would be made unilaterally and permanently for everyone), I’ve apparently been involuntarily switched to the new format – again.
It’s the Little Things
Only this time I can’t find the “return to Classic” toggle and I’m incensed. First of all, it’s not September yet! Second of all, it only reinforces my self-loathing that I’ve come to appreciate FB as a means of not only hopefully getting my posts read by more people but also staying in touch with friends and family even if tangentially and playfully during these unprecedented times of isolation.
We all know it: it’s the little things. And when so many monumental crowbars are being thrown at us right and left, day after day, would it kill FB to refrain from bonking us over the head with another one?
I guess it would. And I have to wonder: what changes have been made that we can’t see?
I’d like to think that Zuck is implementing these changes to minimize abuses and clamp down on trolling and the spreading of misinformation and disinformation. I’m sure FB is concerned about the profound implications for the coming election.
It’s incumbent upon us to remain vigilant. On so many fronts. Thanks for bearing witness to this rant. This is probably just a case of me crankily complaining that someone moved my cheese and whining, “Why?” I don’t want to resist change – if it’s good change.
Some of you may have caught on to the deeper meaning when I wished you a “Happy 13th of August” last night. In spite of the foundation upon which all of my posts are founded (my 1111 Devotion), I try not to be too maudlin about the life (and death) of my eldest son, Karl Daniel. But whether I mention it or not, August 13th will always be the anniversary of his birthday.
Every year is a little bit different. And it doesn’t progress in a linear fashion, believe me. If it did, I’d be breathing a sigh of relief, knowing that every single year would bring me just that little bit less sadness, just a slightly diminished tendency to wonder what his life would be like now, who he’d be, what he’d be doing in the world right now.
But life isn’t like that. Death isn’t like that. When it first hits you, especially as a parent enduring that freaking nightmare of losing a child (regardless of whether they’re 3 months, 3 years, or 30 years when they die) most of us feel we might very well lose our minds before ever coming to terms with the reality of losing our baby forever.
For most of us, though, the searing pain at first loss that we feel will never ease, never diminish (indeed, that we vow we’ll never let go of – for to lose that edge will somehow, we feel, lessen the importance of their life to both us and to the world) inexplicably does. And honestly, at least for me, it was involuntary. I did not want to lose that edge.
Life Goes On
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I wanted to wear that loss on my vest and claim it as a defining, debilitating, characteristic of my life. The exact opposite, as a matter of fact. I wanted the gaping hole in my heart that belongs to my eldest son to spur me on to helping others cope with their grief when faced with similar loss.
So as we’re told in lyrics and poems, life goes on. We rail against it, when the loss is fresh. We secretly damn the people who tell us ‘time heals all wounds’ – most of the ones who say that have never felt the sense of having a phantom limb haunting us that losing one of our children creates. They think losing a parent is the same thing.
It’s not.
They think losing a sibling is the same thing.
It’s not.
Forgiveness
But ultimately, we have to extend to the people around us the most exquisite (and sometimes hardest to come by) gift: forgiveness. Most are doing the best they can to comfort us at a time when we’re experiencing something that simply blows their minds. And at the same time, it’s incumbent upon us to extend that same olive branch of forgiveness to our very own selves.
Yes, eventually – even if we try really hard to keep it at the forefront and make our lives center around it – the nearly unbearable pain of losing our child will eventually withdraw into the background of our lives. It’s at once surprising, unsettling, sad, and a relief. And a little guilt-inducing as well.
If we really loved them, would we ever allow ourselves to lose that edge? It’s a question that has a hollow and unsatisfactory answer.
My Point
The point I started to make when I began this post was that you just never know when the grief is going to sneak up behind you and clobber you over the head.
Upon waking this morning I felt a genuine heaviness around my heart. I’d sensed Karl ‘around’ a couple days earlier, but didn’t particularly feel him today. When I did notice him a few days ago, it made me realize that his ‘visits,’ if you can even call them that, are much more infrequent nowadays. And while I can appreciate that this happens, and why, it nevertheless makes me sad.
So I decided to bake a cake. What the heck. For 30 years I’d made a point of baking (or procuring) two cakes within the span of one week, since his father’s birthday is only four days before my son’s.
Only this time I decided to make something totally different. A vanilla cake. (I’ve never made one of those before. Not even once!) And it would have blueberries and lemon going on to make it special and festive. I rationalized that this would be the type of cake I’d buy at my favorite bakery, Crossroads, and almost certainly did for not a few birthdays over the years.
So here it is. The fruit of my reminiscing about my son and celebrating what should have been his 39th birthday today.
Never assume that just because it’s been a bunch of years since the loss of a child that their memory and how much they are missed has diminished.
Karl and I took a walk early this evening and noticed that the clouds seemed particularly expressive. Not in the massive, billowy, rather threatening way the thunderheads have been of late. The clouds today were of a much more playful nature, some even bordering on the whimsical. And then…I was blown away.
I didn’t realize I was going to have such a reaction when I took the photo. In fact, there’s a reason I speak in the first-person singular, above, and that’s because Karl will only be seeing the photo that just blew me away when he reads this post tomorrow morning.
Fodder For the Blog
Karl’s gotten used to the fact that our walks are the saving grace of my 1111 devotion. (Yeah…remember that? Can you believe I’m at 606 with only 505 left to write?) Actually, it’s not so much our walks per se that are the inspiration for a lot of my posts. It’s the photos I take along the way. The photos capture the inspiration that Mother Earth and, to be fair, equally or even more often Father Sky, provide. They are the Creative Team that actually make my posts possible. But you knew that.
As a result, I’m always passing Spartacus’s leash to Karl to hold while I capture moments in my iPhone like fireflies in a jar. Only the photos are better since I don’t have to poke holes in the top of my iPhone and, better yet, the photos don’t end up belly up the next morning.
But they do sometimes yield surprises. There have been many photos that revealed faces or figures that I only saw long after I got home, that ended up inspiring posts.
Spiral – Photo: L. Weikel
Well, as I mentioned, tonight’s clouds seemed especially playful and light. Like this spiral: long and drawn out, stretching across the sky in a straight line – but most definitely a spiral. It’s fascinating to contemplate the winds aloft that created such a cloud.
The photo at the top of this post reminded me of breath made visible as it’s blown across the sky.
Chills
And then there’s this photo, below. Wow. I took it simply because the shapes looked weird to me. I walked into a field to capture the full effect because I didn’t want telephone wires in the foreground. Karl half grumbled that he’d have to do a ‘tick check’ on me because of my venture into the tall grass just to take a shot of more clouds.
But what’s particularly fascinating to me is that I did not actually ‘See’ what this photo now seems to broadcast so obviously. Maybe I’m tired and seeing what I want to see. It’s possible, I suppose. But the magic of this photo popped out at me tonight when I went to send it from my phone to my computer. It gave me chills when I saw it. And the magic turned into the subject of this post.
I was blown away – not unlike when the Easter egg ‘happened.’
