1111 devotion

Pollen Fog – Day 557

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Goldfinches? Or are they chickadees covered in pollen? – Photo: L. Weikel

Pollen Fog

Oh my. The trees are in full bloom here and the chartreuse layer of tree sperm covering absolutely everything outside, especially the glass top tables on my porch, is putting me in a pollen fog.

And the weirdest thing is, I’m (luckily and gratefully) not experiencing too terrible of allergy symptoms. That’s to say, my sinuses are ok so far, my nose is only running a little, and my throat doesn’t hurt.

But I have to say, my appetite is insatiable, and it’s making me nuts. Eat nuts, that is. I really don’t think it’s simply the stress of the pandemic, either. I’ve blamed that for a variety of oral fixations, including an uncontrollable tendency to eat more peanuts in a sitting than I cram into the ‘peanut coil’ I use to dispense legumes to my feathered friends.

Indeed, I was really controlling myself and my peanut fixation after I ate too many and lamented about it in a post. I was doing really well until, well, just tonight. <<sigh>>

Sad Start to Second Half

I don’t know what came over me. I was sitting here with the tv turned off, the sound of the whole house fan thrumming the air and drawing in some major cool breezes that just taunt me into wanting to crawl under the covers and go to bed.

Instead, I was sitting here trying to think of something new or different that I could write about, even though I could feel myself succumbing to the land of heavy eyelids. So what did I do? I caved. I mowed through a bunch of peanuts. I finished up a half pint of Owowcow Cashew Carmel ice cream. I even broke into a Salted Almond chocolate bar for good measure.

Goddess help me.

New Moon

It’s as if I made it halfway through my 1111 Devotion and I’m suddenly dropping the ball and coming up dry again.

Tomorrow is a new moon. As I’ve encouraged a million times over, it’s yet another opportunity to start fresh, plant new seeds, take up a new charge within our lives.

I’m going to once again step away from the peanuts and get myself up to bed. I have lots of things I actually would love to write and chat with all of you about.

Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day. I hope it is for all of us. No matter how super fantastic a day you may have had today, I hope tomorrow is even better.

Plant those seeds. Be careful out there. Don’t risk being a silent spreader: wear a mask. Maybe it’ll even help with the pollen!

(T-554)

Tipping Point – Day 555

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Only days before his last – Photo: anonymous

Tipping Point

Wow. Here I am, teetering at the tipping point, the very center of the see-saw that is the commitment I made to honoring Karl’s prolific creativity with an Act of Power, a devotion of my own.

As I explained at the beginning of this particular journey, on 11/11/18, the seventh anniversary of Karl’s death, I was sitting here in our living room contemplating my son’s brief but intense life and wondering how I could in some way honor him.

To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed in myself that I never took up a cause or created a foundation or became an advocate dedicated to fiercely and fearlessly changing society or improving people’s lives in his memory. There’s a part of me that wishes I’d channeled my grief in such admirable ways.

But I didn’t.

Instead, on that 7th anniversary of his death, I listened to the messages I was receiving and followed the signs. I determined that the nudges I was getting were for me to simply enter into a daily act of devotion reflecting my love for him and the fact that a day does not go by without him in my thoughts, in my heart, and influencing my life.

1111 Devotion

As I wrote in my initial post in this endeavor, “(a)ccording 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.’ (…) 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.”

In the first few days of following through on this bodacious commitment, I struggled with all sorts of internal beliefs and expectations. I did manage to describe here at least a few of the messages I’d received on the day I set this intention that confirmed this was an appropriate dedication.

I even received confirmation of the magnitude of this devotion (1111 consecutive posts), and wrote about that here.

Today I Stand At the Center

Inasmuch as 1111 does not divide equally, tonight’s post and tomorrow’s post, together, mark the halfway point of this great adventure. I consider tonight’s post the tipping point, for the moment I hit <publish> this evening, I will hit the tipping point. I won’t quite be on the downward trajectory. I’ll be at the apex.

In truth, I am not arriving at this tipping point alone. I know many of you have walked with me every step of the way, slogging through some really sucky posts, but supporting me nevertheless.

I hope you know how much that means to me.

Now. I better get this posted.

I’ll write more tomorrow. I promise.

Rainbow Up Close – Photo: L. Weikel

 

(T-556)

Mixing It Up – Day 547

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Nothing But Swirls and Fenceposts – Photo: L.Weikel

Mixing It Up

If you’ve been reading my posts for any length of time, first of all thank you, and second of all you probably realize that you never know what I’m going to write about from one day to the next. It’s the old “keep ‘em guessing” strategy. You know: mixing it up so you never know if you’re going to miss one of the good ones – making every day’s offering an adventure of discovery.

Yikes. I’m dredging from my college days now, making whip-smart use of that psychology degree by employing intermittent reinforcement to the readers of my blog posts. B. F. Skinner would be proud.

Actually, it’s not intentional. Not in the nefarious way I’m alluding to, anyway. It is intentional in respect to the fact that I try to stay away from writing too much about any one subject. My thoughts do bounce around from one topic to another.

A Niche

I think maybe I thought, or was hoping, I’d have discovered a niche by now. But no. Five hundred forty seven days into the 1111 Devotion project and no discernible niche has revealed itself. I guess I’m just a jack-of-all-subjects and master-of-none.

If you were to take a gander at the photos on my iPhone, though, you might come to another conclusion. You very well might think, “This chick should’ve become a meteorologist. Clearly she has a thing for clouds and other weather events.” And you would not be wrong.

Clouds

I adore clouds. I’m confident this comes as no surprise to any of you. And I particularly love letting my gaze soften when I look to the sky and allowing myself to simply see what’s up there. Like the angel’s wings I wrote about last week, and any number of other posts I’ve share about clouds that have appeared to me in intriguing shapes.

Just a day or so ago, I caught this one:

Fox Chasing Bird – Photo: L. Weikel

In my imagination, I easily see a fox chasing an oversized bird right across the sky.

No, I don’t feel there’s any particular message associated with that image. It’s simply a delight. A whimsical interlude punctuating one of our walks.

And that’s an important aspect of what I do as well, or perhaps how I approach life, that many people don’t realize. I don’t try to wring a message or a lesson out of every single thing that happens to me or that comes to my attention. I know it may seem as if I do, but in truth, there’s a unique sense of significance that I sense deep within when I encounter a ‘message.’

Cultivating that sense is something that comes with practice. But first things first – which means, you have to do a lot of noticing and paying attention to realize which experiences coming your way are messages and which are simply interludes of beauty, or pain, or something else in your life that are ‘only’ important in that moment.

 

(T-564)

Mother’s Day Message – 546

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Buttercup – Photo: L. Weikel

Mother’s Day Message

Since I finally revealed just the other day the most profound and reliable way Karl uses to communicate with me since he drowned on 11/11/11, I thought I might share with you my most recent experience of this connection.

Mind you: I never know when it’s going to happen, although he almost always ‘comes through’ on days of special meaning or when I’m feeling particularly raw or vulnerable. So it wasn’t as if I was expecting to hear from him today. In fact, since the communications seem to be getting fewer and further between as the years go by, I rarely expect and only sometimes hope to hear from him anymore. I guess, deep down, I feel his soul has moved on and is busily engaged elsewhere.

Setting the Scene

I was driving to the local health food store this morning to pick up my weekly milk delivery. As I was driving up the road from my home, about a mile away, I received a text from my middle son, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day and telling me he loves and appreciates me. I see the text and my heart swells. Of course, I don’t respond; I’m driving. I just…smile to myself.

I do not have any idea what song had been playing on my iPhone at that time (through my car’s stereo system), but it ended. Right then. And a new song started playing. As soon as I heard the first chord, I felt it in my heart. And then I heard the words:

Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?

Moby

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

Why does my heart feel so bad?
Why does my soul feel so bad?

He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors
He’ll open doors…

Source: LyricFind

Whoa.

I’ll be honest. I played it twice. OK. Maybe three times. Whatever. It got me up to the store, where I went in, got my milk, and returned to the car.

The Journey Home

Yeah. My heart was hurting. But I felt that Karl’s heart was hurting too. In fact, it felt like he sent that to me to hear, right after M sent me that text, because Karl couldn’t reach out and touch me, hug me, again.

But I have to admit – reading the lyrics when I got home and started writing this post, I’m sort of, well, in awe.

As I drove home, though, I decided not to dwell on how much either of our hearts were hurting. So I just let the next song play.

And there it was. Another message. Exactly what I needed him to follow up with: Give Me Love, by George Harrison. And I venture to say, we all need as much hope and help coping with this heavy load as we can get.

Give Me Love (Lyrics)

Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with
Heart and soul
Om m m m m m m m m m m m m m
M m m my lord . . .
Please take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you
Won’t you please
Oh won’t you
Give me love
Give me love
Give me peace on earth
Give me light
Give me life
Keep me free from birth
Give me hope
Help me cope, with this heavy load
Trying to, touch and reach you with
Heart and soul
Om m m m m m m m m m m m m m
M m m my lord . . .
Please take hold of my hand, that
I might understand you

Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Shahin George / Rainey Fatima Lorencz / Rakascan Marko
Give Me Love lyrics © Universal Music- Mgb Songs

 

Thanks, Karl. I love you – and your brothers – so very, very much. Your communication was a gift of heart and soul.

I’m doing my best to listen – and I hope I understand you.

(T-565)

Weird Emotions – Day 503

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Photo: L. Weikel

Weird Emotions

I’m finding the enormity of what we’re seeing unfold around us sneaks up and catches me at the oddest times. I’ll be motoring along, minding my business, when suddenly DT will say or do something that shakes my faith in humanity. And then I find myself juggling a panoply of weird emotions bubbling up at the oddest moments.

While I try to keep my intake of the latest news in balance with the rest of my life, I’ll be the first to admit that on those days that I can’t get outside to take a walk, I’m a little fried by the end of the day.

It poured rain all day today. And I’m not keen on walking in wet weather, to be honest. At least not when the temperature’s hovering around 44 degrees. Yet walking plays such a huge role in keeping my emotions in balance; I find it necessary for my survival. It’s extremely rare for me to begin a walk in a pissy, disagreeable mood and arrive home in the same or worse condition. Not to say it’s not impossible; just less likely.

Star Trek

Karl and I watched the final episode of Picard tonight. It was a worthy season finale. But what surprised me most was when the familiar Star Trek music started playing at the end, my eyes welled up and a couple tears rolled down my cheeks! I found myself suddenly thinking about Karl, in whose honor I write these nightly posts as part of my 1111 devotion, and my other sons as well.

All of a sudden I felt this clench in my heart, recognizing the thread that Star Trek has woven throughout my own life: from when I was a kid myself and the first season of Star Trek aired on Philadelphia’s UHF channel 48 (the same channel that carried roller derbies) to right now, when we would gather – pre-Covid-19, mind you – with T and M to watch Picard together.

And all those years in between. Indeed, as we’ve watched Picard, Karl and I have realized that some of the spin-offs and other Star Trek series over the years were actually background noise as we were busy raising the boys. The guys might be watching, but we were either still getting home from work or making dinner or otherwise engaged in being consumed with young family-hood.

So now, mid-Covid-19, we’re going to watch all the shows. At least that’s on the agenda for now.

Mortality Is In the Air

Perhaps it’s the sense that anything could happen at any moment that’s causing my tears to be slightly on a hair trigger. I don’t know. While I can’t say I’m weepy by any stretch of the imagination, I do think I am tapping into something larger. Our shared despair at a lot of the cruelty we’re seeing, perhaps.

I think it was the hope for humanity that was ‘pinged’ in my heart when I heard the Star Trek theme tonight. I want to believe in our better nature. I want to believe that we will rise to the occasion.

(T-608)

Pffffft – Day 386

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What 5-8″ of snow doesn’t look like – Photo: L. Weikel

Pffffft

Yes, that would be the sound associated with this major snowstorm that was hyped all weekend, the one that was supposed to disrupt transportation in the area, caused most local school districts to cancel classes, and even forced county offices to close.

It was a big zero.

Yes, I know there were a few pockets that may have seen some accumulations. But around here we received nowhere near the 5 – 8” of snow they were predicting in dire tones. And I, for one, was disappointed. I can only imagine how bummed the kids who got a day off from school felt. Surely they were looking forward to a day of sleighriding.

Sleighriding

Ever look at a word you’ve used a million times before and had it look weird to you? As if you’re seeing it for the first time?  That’s how I’m feeling about the word ‘sleighriding’ at the moment.

Am I dating myself? I guess I should be using the term ‘sledding’ if I want to be more universally understood by those who speak the English language. But that’s such a boring term compared to sleighriding, in my opinion.

It’s funny. It makes me think of the books I read as a youngster. The Bobbsey Twins. The Happy Hollisters. I’m trying to remember the precise books I enjoyed in which people actually did still ride in sleighs. Literal hitched-up-to-horses sleighs, which of course are completely different than sleds. It probably wasn’t either of the series I just mentioned.

Nevertheless, I remember seeing sleighs in my mind’s eye as I read those stories, so I know I they must have been richly described. I also remember imagining the weight of fur blankets heaped on laps and the sting of ice crystals on cheeks as the children in those books made their way with their families to visit neighbors and share news.

So I wonder why (and how) I came to describe the pastime of hurling oneself down a slippery slope on a Flexible Flyer or a metal saucer  or even a toboggan as ‘sleighriding.’

Flakes Are Falling (Now)

I just took a look outside and I see that snow is actually (finally!) falling – and apparently sticking. I wonder just how much will actually accumulate.

Having a good snowfall in the middle of the night (with temperatures expected to hover at or just above freezing and abundant sunshine predicted the next day) is as disappointing as a vast sky sporting high clouds that reflect city lights and obscure the most brilliant of stars on a night one hopes to see meteors cascading overhead.

I guess I’m yearning for some simple pleasures. It’s hard not to get caught up in the complicated circumstances confronting all of us wherever we look, especially right now. Especially with so much of what we’ve taken for granted for so long under threat.

Taking a Page From the Pups

These kind of meandering thoughts are one of the perils of committing to writing every single day for 1111 days. Since my 1111 devotion was never intended to be a denial of my true feelings, the occasional dip into melancholy (or despair – given the circumstances and my inherent optimism consequently feeling slapped upside the head) can be understood if not forgiven.

I don’t like dwelling here too long, though. So I will share with you the smile my Boston Terriers bring to my heart when I stop tapping at my keyboard long enough to glance across the room toward the snores emanating from the couch.

Man, between Zen Puss and these two, you really might get the impression our house is chill, eh? I need to take a page from my pets. That much is clear.

Spartacus & Sheila not caring whether it’s snowing – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-725)

Epic – Day 365

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Disappearing at Slab City – Photo: L. Weikel

Epic

Death is just so damn weird.

In some ways, it feels like Karl’s been gone so long that the stories we tell are becoming epic in nature. Indeed, sometimes they sound like tall tales.

He lives on in our memories, for sure. And memories are notoriously selective.

But he lived a life that could be mistaken, in many ways and by many people, for a tall tale. He lived life bigger in his thirty years than most people live life in thrice that long.

He lived an epic life. Epic in its grandeur and charisma and talent and epic in its plunges to the depths of chaos and self-sabotage.

1111 Devotion

One year ago today, I realized I wanted to make a commitment – a statement – that celebrates my son’s memory and life. As a result, I’ve written a post every single day since November 12th , 2018, as a way of honoring the creativity and vibrancy of Karl’s life. No morbid or flowery bullshit for me. Rather, a single act of creativity, short or long, personal or political, day in and day out. A simple Act of Power, every day, in remembrance of him.

Not that I’m taking a victory lap around the track yet. As of today, my 365thpost, I’m only a third of the way around the loop. But it’s a milestone.

Let Me Be Clear

My Act of Power, however, is far from epic. It’s simple, but visible, reminder that, unlike him, I still have the ability to laugh with his father Karl, take walks with our pups, touch the earth, and mow the lawn. I’m still able to hear his brothers’ voices, see their smiles and feel their hugs, watch them love and thrive, and share their triumphs and struggles.

I still have the ability to sit beside the Tohickon and hear her voice, remember when Karl and his brothers splashed (and tormented each other) in her rocky shallows, and witness the gift of hawks and eagles cruising her length or standing watch over me as I write beside her.

I Wish

I wish I could feel his arms around me once again. I wish I could see his sparkling green eyes and devilishly charming smile trying to cajole some concession from me once again. I wish I could hear him mimic something silly, like a dolphin, just to make me laugh until tears run down my face. I wish I could have the chance to see him continue creating and experimenting with the next edgy concept.

He’s Not Really Gone

And yet I know that he visits me occasionally. He’s gone to great lengths, in fact, to make sure to assure me that his body may be gone but his spirit remains quite alive, thank you very much.

Just this morning, when I was reading the text and FB messages, as well as the emails from friends and families – so many of you dear ones who’ve made this journey with me these past 365 days – I remarked to one of you:

“Thank you. Hard one this year. Not sure why – it’s now been eight years. Maybe I’m ready for him to come home now. Weird.”

I sent that email reply and – as Goddess is my witness – I flipped over to FaceBook on my iPhone only moments later. I scrolled down one message and this is what I saw:

Knock my socks off. If you doubt that Karl didn’t photobomb FB to let me know that he’s still around, and can hear me… just compare this photo with the one on my website. Tell me you wouldn’t have taken a double-take too.

This is the type of thing that happens in my life all the time. I am blessed. I am loved. I am So. Incredibly. Lucky.

To all of you who’ve been walking this 1111 Devotion with me by reading my posts:

Thank you. I love you. I appreciate your support more than you know.

Photo: L. Weikel

(T-746)

Five More Days – Day 360

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Four Beasts – Photo: L. Weikel

Five More Days

Tick tock. Yeah, I notice.

And you know what? It’s strange.

The past couple of posts have felt harder to write than the prior 260 or so. Prior? Previous? (Ha ha – this bugged me and I kept vacillating on which word was more appropriate, so I looked it up. Each used the other in their definition, pinging me into a self-reflective loop. Ugh. So I guess either one is technically ok to use, even though I sense a subtle but distinct difference. Maybe that’s what I get for using dictionary.com?)

And right there is yet another example of how easily it is for me to go off on tangents sometimes.

My Point

My point is that I’m closing in on the one year anniversary of my commitment to posting every single day for 1111 days in honor of our son Karl.

The first ten, fifteen, twenty days were tough. The very enormity of what I’d declared publicly loomed large and verged on the cusp of insurmountable. And then, surprisingly, I seemed to get into a rhythm.

When I realized the benefit of taking at least one photo during the day, the game (which is most definitely not a game) changed. Those photos saved my bacon many a day by giving me something to write about. A starting point. A platform from which I could dive into the twists and turns of an invisible tunnel.

A Journey of Sorts

I never actually thought of my posts in this way before, but in writing that last paragraph, I realize that the photos I use as instigators of my posts are portals, in a way, leading to unique and distinctive journeys that I map out before you with my words.

They each are completely unique because I rarely use the same portal more than once. That means that each portal has the potential to take me to unfamiliar territory.

Funny thing? Tonight I searched desperately for a photo I could use that would give me something to write about tonight. You see what I chose.

How did those four beasts (and yes, there is actually a dog completely submerged under the covers toward the front right of the photo) lead to this discussion?

I have no idea.

I guess that’s the magic of this process.

(T-752)

Lest I Forget – Day 338

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My DMV Number – Photo: L. Weikel

Lest I Forget

Lest I forget why I’m sitting here at 11:29 p.m., scanning my experiences of the day to come up with something at least remotely interesting to write about, I need only glance at a photo I took this afternoon while sitting in the Dublin office of the PA Department of Motor Vehicles.

Karl, my son, has an unerring ability to hone right into my consciousness to plant a flag when I need it most.

1111 Devotion

The reason I’m sitting here on my overstuffed couch, doing my best to pull myself back from the brink of imminent sleep instead of tucking myself into a cuddle sandwich between Karl and Spartacus, is my son. I’m awake and trying to write something at least half coherent for you to read because I made a commitment. I accepted an internal challenge to engage in an Act of Power. I made the decision to engage in my 1111 Devotion.

And so it is that a photo on my iPhone once again saves the day. It brings me back, front and center, to precisely why I am sitting here listening to a screech owl wail its plaintive cry just outside our door instead of falling asleep.

It brings me back to the magic of life and the utter amazingness of what some might call coincidence and I might call communication.

Real ID

I recently received my reissued social security card in the mail. I’d had to go to the Social Security office some weeks ago to request a new one because producing your social security card is a non-negotiable requirement, among others, to securing a ‘Real ID.’ Apparently my regular Pennsylvania driver’s license will no longer be valid ID enabling me to, among other things, board a plane for a domestic flight as of 2020.

All afternoon, I kept thinking to myself that I needed to get over to the Licensing Center to take care of business. In my excitement to have received my new s.s. card, I forgot to bring my passport with me. So I had to drive all the way back home, retrieve that, and return yet again to the PennDoT.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I looked at my ticket upon signing in: ‘I111.’ I had to smile. Karl had been very present all weekend, with all of us convening here for the weekend. Each of us at various times brought him up and remarked how ‘close’ and almost tangible he felt this past weekend.

Here he was. Announcing his presence.

To Mention or Not to Mention

When my number was called, I approached the counter and was greeted by a young woman with a big smile and open, friendly manner. I’d tucked my ticket away in my wallet, and when I did so, briefly considered whether I would mention the significance of the randomly assigned number. “Nah,” I thought. “Too random and wooey for the DMV.”

So I took a double take when I heard my staff person laughingly say to her colleague in the next cubicle, “4:27! That’s my birthday!” (To be clear, she was referring to the fact that it was 4:27 p.m.)

At that moment, I realized not only that she was a kindred spirit in her own right, but that she also would totally appreciate the number of my ticket and its relevance to my life. So when I stood before her and she confirmed my ticket number, I was not surprised when she immediately exclaimed at how the capital ‘I’ looked like a one, thus creating an 1111.

Yes, she brought it up first. So I listened to the nudge.

Sharing the Magic

I rolled with her awareness of the ticket looking like it was 1111 and told her why that number has particular significance to me. Instead of having her look at me askance or judging me as being a woo-ey crystal wearing tree hugger (guilty as charged), we had an amazing discussion that touched upon loss, death, numerology, and a couple other fascinating topics.

Indeed, she relayed a story about a colleague of hers who retired only last year, who lost her 30-something son to a hit and run accident. Sudden. Horrific. Tragic. Just that day, she’d spoken to her friend and found herself worrying about how depressed her friend sounded.

When I mentioned that having the ‘1111’ show up today was my son’s way of connecting with me, she told me a lovely story about how her friend has eschewed the concept of going to a medium or psychic. It’s just not something she has any desire to do. Yet she had been feeling very unsettled over her son’s death – and felt like maybe he wasn’t at peace.

Well, apparently a friend of hers went to some kind of an event – or maybe it was even a private session, I’m not sure – and this woman’s son very clearly came through and gave the friend a message, which he asked her to relay back to his mother.

My DMV friend could barely contain her delight at the shift and comfort she’d witnessed her friend experience as a result of this communication.

They Find a Way

When my new friend commented on how surprised she was that her friend still had no desire to go to a medium herself, I couldn’t help but point out that perhaps there was no need. She’d been encouraged to see a medium to allay her worries and help her with her grief, but she’d refused. Her son, knowing that she needed to hear from him, very cleverly arranged to get his message through to her via her friend – who was open to going to a medium.

He knew she needed to hear from him and he found a way.

Love finds a way. And if Karl hadn’t reached out, sent me love, and rippled my awareness today, I would never have heard this story and had such a heartfelt conversation. At the DMV.

Lest I forget why I do what I do (wink).

(T-773)

Cool Day, Today… – Day 303

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Cool Day, Today…

Numerologically, anyway. Take a deeper look: Today is Day 303 and the number of posts left to write is 808.

So symmetrical. So easily fitting into the 1111 Devotion discipline and the mystique of this Act of Power.

Even though today (tonight) is the technical 303/808 post, I’m going to go with the sense that by paying attention to it tonight, and it then being read mostly tomorrow, I am activating an intention for the portals represented by the double 11s to swing open over the next 24 hours.

Perhaps nothing will happen. Perhaps breakthroughs will occur. Maybe some within our personal lives or sharing our physical, mental, emotional, or spiritual ‘space’ with us who may have been waiting to make their transitions will choose to do so now. We also have the power, strength, and illumination of the full moon (culminating this Friday the 13th) to augment the “Power of the Portals.”

Not a Public Number

There probably won’t be any significant portal crossings over the next 24 hours because the significance of the 303/808 (11/11) is connected solely to me and my writing. There could be those of you who resonate with me and either my family, Karl, or simply the whole concept of 11/11 and will embrace this double portal opportunity with gusto.

I’m hoping (and setting the intention) of only traveling through portals I’m comfortable returning through (to this realm), as well.

Epiphany

Ha ha – I just had a realization. I received an email from Apple just this evening, as I was preparing to start writing my post. It was very distracting. Why? Because it was an announcement of the new iPhone 11 Pro.

Yeah… I opened up the email because I could see a reference to an ‘improved camera’ in this newest model. You didn’t have to ask me twice to check that baby out.

One of the greatest unexpected delights of writing my 1111 Devotion posts is the fun I’ve had taking photos each day as potential prompts for the evening’s post. I know I’ve mentioned a number of times how I’ve thought about you, my readers, when encountering unique circumstances or witnessing moments of singular beauty and trying to capture that moment or experience so I could share it with you later.

Filled to the Brim

The downside to my desire to enthusiastically share my encounters with you both visually and via prose is that I’ve filled my iPhone to the brim. Over the past couple of weeks I’ve struggled to take photos each day because I keep getting the ‘iPhone Storage Full” message. It’s frustrated the hell out of me, I’ll be honest.

I’ve diligently attempted to go back into my photo archives and delete many photos. I’ve done this every single time I’ve tried to snag a shot and been thwarted.

And my weirdness about ‘Big Brother’ (not MY big brother – no, Henry, I’m not calling you weird, although the moniker could fit) has translated to my not wanting to store all of my ‘stuff’ on the Cloud. I know, I know. It’s probably a ridiculous hang up I have. But there it is.

As a result, I’ve been painstakingly deleting photos and videos every single day for a few weeks at least, trying to free up some storage so I can take more photos.

Just this afternoon, in fact, my iPhone had become so clogged full of photos and music and such that it wouldn’t even let me text. It kept automatically exiting from the camera mode. So I ordered a nifty gadget recommended by a dear friend that is specifically designed to be used to download/offload photos and stuff from one’s iPhone easily and efficiently – and then either store it on that drive or transfer the saved info to a computer.

But NOW…

Lust

Oh dear…now there is the aptly named iPhone 11 Pro. I know I don’t need it. But wow, I sure could use it to take some cool shot for you guys. Just tonight I would’ve been writing about vultures and death (we ran into at least 20 vultures snacking on a dead deer during our walk – but my phone kept blinking out of camera mode) instead of lusting after a new iPhone.

I don’t know. I’m thinking there’s an important connection between the 1111 Devotion, the 303/808 number of the post occurring tonight, and the iPhone 11 being announced just this evening are all sending an unequivocal message. Maybe a celebration is in order?

What do you think?

(T-808)