I’m feeling rather quiet at the moment. Lucky for me, due to the puppies needing to go out before bedding down for the evening, only moments ago I was standing underneath the night sky searching for stars. It was the Christmas Eve night sky, although technically it’s Christmas Day. And all I could comprehend in those moments was how silent the night was, which of course made me smile. Silent night.
As I stood outside tonight I could feel a similar magic to that of the Winter Solstice, which is as it should be, since there is a kinship between the two. Both celebrate the arrival (or return) of the Light, one literally and the other metaphorically.
Ah, Magic
I wish I could bring some magic to our circumstances right now. We need an infusion of light again. I’ve encountered so many people lately whose internal batteries are running low. And these are the people who are usually the buoys for others.
It’s never a good thing to have the optimists lose hope.
There is, of course, something to be said for the awe that can completely overtake our loss of hope when we look up. When we look up, our physical eyes can see the potential limitlessness of our existence. We realize there is so much more than the day-to-day worries that so often ensnare us. And even if we’re not sure what our next move is, when we look up (and especially when we can see the stars) it’s not hard to find the courage to trust the Universe to provide.
That’s magic.
Works of art from Mongolia – Photo: L. Weikel
The Next Few Days
Over the next few days, I’m going to be looking for the magic. And even as I write that sentence, I have to smile. Just look at the photo of the stockings hung on our mantelpiece this evening. They’re from Mongolia. Handmade by a collective of young people learning to make a living through honoring the skills cultivated in their culture over millennia, it feels like a miracle that I bought them there myself.
Who am I to have been lucky enough to experience life – if ever so briefly – on the Mongolian steppe? And what a blessing is it to have these tangible and exquisitely crafted reminders hanging on our mantel?
That, too, is magic.
Wishes
I hope all of you are having a wonderful holiday, filled most importantly with love, warmth, connection, peace, and good health.
Don’t be afraid to look for the magic. And I’m saying this especially to those of you who are losing hope or finding yourself feeling sad or lonely. If you ask for some magic, it will come.
This is always a tough time of year. Actually, most of the month of November is a challenge. Starting about a week before the 11th, I begin framing everything in my life around that day. (This day. Today.) I see 11/11 ahead on the calendar and I want to look away. I want it to mean something different than it does. But of course it can’t. It never will again.
This year, I’ve sort of been in an in-between place. It’s been ten years. Karl’s been gone for ten years – and actually, I haven’t seen or put my arms around my son in just under 11 years. He left for the West Coast in January of ’11 and never made it home again.
But even though today marks a full decade of missing him, I’d grown a bit detached – perhaps a smidgen one might call ‘spiritually aloof’ – over the past several months. Make that the past two years or so.
The Beginning of the Quiet
Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s all starting to make sense. Since he died, my main mode of receiving communications from Karl has been through the music on my iPod (and now my iPhone), which I would most often listen to as I drove in the car. Since the pandemic hit, I’ve hardly driven anywhere. As a result, I’ve barely listened to any music in the past two years. (Yes, this realization is appalling to me as well.)
While music (and especially the lyrics) of songs is his most effective means of communicating more complex messages, I am cognizant of the occasional hints he drops that he’s ‘around’ – or at least checking in. Some of those I’ve even written about. I guess, though, in the chaos of Covid and everything else that’s been unfolding in our lives, I just felt a distance growing between us. I assumed it was probably natural, that he was busy moving on with his own evolution.
Lately, though, the dearth of communications from him has left me feeling wistful and sad. It starting to hit me just how long he’s been gone. I think the impending end of my 1111 Devotion is also weighing on me. This Act of Power in his memory is coming to a close. Is it a metaphor for something bigger?
Recent Increases
Over the past two days, I was seeing so many license plates with his initials or even his name (for instance, “KRL 1234”), I actually talked to him out loud. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but you have my attention. I see the initials. I see the signs. But I’m starting to feel like it’s just because I want to see them. Our area issued a bunch of license plates with your initials. Big deal. I used to see magic, but I’m starting to think maybe I’ve just been acting dumb.”
Yeah. I went there.
I was feeling sad. And losing my sense of wonder. And yet I still maintained a grateful heart – for if that’s the extent of the messages I was going to receive anymore, at least I was receiving them.
Salmon Speaking
I ran over to Whole Foods today to pick up some salmon for our dinner this evening. We’ve barely eaten any fish since we watched the documentary about over-fishing. But this is a hard week for us, and I thought both Karl and I could use some Omega-3s to lighten our outlook.
As I was driving home this afternoon, I had a very clear and strong urge to listen to my music on shuffle again. No podcasts. No radio. “I need to listen to my music.” I’ll admit, I hoped for but honestly doubted whether anything ‘special’ would come up for me.
The Voice
The very first song that played on ‘shuffle’ was The Voice by The Moody Blues. I do not know why, but as soon as I heard their voices and listened to the lyrics, tears started streaming down my cheeks and all I could think or say was how much I miss my Karl. It was the weirdest thing: like a button had been pushed that immediately triggered a doorway to the pain in my heart that I live with and try not to dwell upon.
For my own special reasons (due to context and history), I heard in the lyrics some statements I sensed Karl was making to me about trust and moving forward with new projects and ideas. I felt like he was offering commentary on a number of things I’d said out loud to him while out doing errands, driving alone in the car, over the past several days.
I will admit that even then – even after bursting into unexpected, unbidden sobs – I actually said out loud that this was pretty well orchestrated, Karl, but who was I kidding? I was probably only hearing what I wanted to hear. After all, today was the 10th anniversary of your death. Of course I’d like to hear from you today. (I’m actually a lot more skeptical about receiving signs and messages than a lot of people assume. Sometimes I make Spirit – and my ancestors and allies – jump through hoops before I’ll believe they’re really giving me a message.)
Tonight’s Wagon
So it was especially fascinating tonight during the Wagon when one of the participants reported that she’d met Karl for the first time. Tonight. In her journey. Now, for some context, when Karl comes through to other people, he almost always brings messages specifically for his father.
That wasn’t the case tonight, though. He asked her to tell me, among other things, that I need to “let go of the past and focus on creating the future.” And I’m supposed to “BELIEVE.”
I had to smile at that last comment. To me, it was very obviously a direct response to the cynical commentary I’d made out loud in the car earlier in the day – in spite of my visceral reaction to the music.
I guess our work together has yet to conclude. I miss you, Karl. But I’m glad you’re so persistent and willing to insist that I move forward with our collaboration.
Won’t you take me back to school? I need to learn the golden rule. Won’t you lay it on the line? I need to hear it just one more time.
Oh, won’t you tell me again? Oh, can you feel it? Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?
Each and every heart it seems, Is bounded by a world of dreams. Each and every rising sun, Is greeted by a lonely one.
Oh, won’t you tell me again? Oh, can you feel it? Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?
Cause out on the ocean of life my love. There a so many storms we must rise above. Can you hear the spirit calling, as it’s carried across the waves? You’re already falling it’s calling you back to face the music. And the song that is coming through. You’re already falling the one that it’s calling is you
My a promise take a vow. And trust your feelings it easy now. Understand The Voice within. And feel a change already beginning.
Oh, won’t you tell me again? Oh, can you feel it? Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight? Tonight?
Oh, won’t you tell me again? Oh, can you feel it? Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?
And how many words have I got to say? And how many times will it be this way? With your arms around the future and your back up against the past. You’re already falling it’s calling you on to face the music. And the song that is coming through. You’re already falling the one that it’s calling is you
Each and every heart it seems, Is bounded by a world of dreams. Each and every rising sun, Is greeted by, a lonely, lonely one.
Won’t you tell me again? Oh, can you feel it? Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?
Won’t you tell me again? Oh, can you feel it? Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight? Tonight
Oh, can you feel it? Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?
