Black lives matter

Weird Week – Day 886

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Exquisite Spring Day – Photo: L. Weikel

Weird Week

This has been such a weird week already – and it’s not even Friday yet. (Well, it will be by the time this is read; but you get my drift.) And I have a feeling the weirdness isn’t done with us yet.

There’s been a dramatic acceleration of activity in many spheres. Notice I didn’t say a dramatic acceleration of movement or forward momentum. No. There’s just been a lot of activity – some of it constructive, some of it obstructive. And some of it just downright maddening and perplexing. Even a lot of spinning in place, one might say.

It’s hard to describe the shock I feel, in some ways, of dealing with so many people all at once in the span of four days. It makes me realize just how profoundly my baseline sense of ‘normal’ has changed in the past year.

I’ve literally engaged with people face-to-face (masked where appropriate, socially distanced in every instance) every single day this week. Tomorrow I have the opportunity and responsibility to engage further with more people and I’m simply agog at the thought.

Don’t Get Me Wrong

I’m not complaining. I’m observing. I always knew I was an introvert; that’s what’s actually made navigating the pandemic this past year relatively pleasant and comforting. I’m one of the lucky ones. I have space. I have direct access to innumerable expressions of Mother Nature and the ability to take a walk and enjoy them without a lingering fear in the back of my mind that I might not make it back to my house alive.

Yes, I’ve missed giving people hugs. Funnily enough, I think I’ve discovered that the circumstances in which I miss the gift of hugging most acutely are those that involve people who I would not ordinarily hug, but who I sense need them the most. What I mean by that is, yes, I miss giving my kids and my dear friends hugs. But I exquisitely miss the comfort and care that I sometimes feel can only be conveyed in a hug that transcends all words.

And the wordless expression of transcendent love and compassion are sometimes the precise and only gift that’s worth giving.

Buffeted

I find myself buffeted by the extremes of our existence. The yearning desire so many have to receive the vaccine that will protect them from catching a deadly disease – to the point that they burst into tears when they receive their inoculation(s). And then witnessing the casual indifference to the snuffing out of the lives of Black people by those we wish could be trusted to protect us – all of us – regardless of our skin color. As a mother – as a human – I just cannot fathom the relentless injustice and the disregard, time after time after time, for the preciousness of these lives.

I groused last night about feeling the effects of tree pollen. At least, that’s what I think was afflicting me last night. And yet…I stopped in my tracks when I looked at the exquisite beauty of the trees and clouds and grass I found myself driving past this afternoon. I almost drove right past this stunning hug from Mother Earth herself.

I’m glad I stopped in the middle of where I was driving and tried to capture the essence that overwhelmed me in that moment. It was a wordless moment of unconditional love and compassion. She was giving to me what I yearn to give to others.

More goldfinches amongst magnolia blossoms – Photo: L. Weikel

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Strategically Holding Space – Day 586

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Nighttime Messenger – Photo: L. Weikel

Strategically Holding Space

There’s so much happening in the cosmos this weekend. Well, not just this weekend; we’re not out of the thick of things for quite a while, actually. But this weekend feels huge to me, and the best recommendation I can make (that I will be following as well) is that we engage in strategically holding space. We must hold this space for each other and ourselves. Our country and our planet.

There’s no other way to describe what’s happening in the U.S. right now but to say we’re being bombarded. Information, revelations, lies, conspiracy theories, a pandemic, isolation, fear, sickness, death. We’re being confronted with irrefutable proof that people of color do not share the same freedoms as white people. And we’re seeing a huge majority of our brothers and sisters (or perhaps for a lot of us, our sons and daughters) stand up and say, “The system is broken. It doesn’t stand for what we’ve been taught it does and we won’t pretend or allow it to persist any longer.”

Some of us will join in the protests continuing to unfold all across our nation in support of Black Lives Matter. Some of us will lend our support in other ways. Each as they are able, as they say. But as we witness injustice, as we begin to see with clear eyes the ugly parts of our history that have conveniently been left out of most of our educations, I do believe we will unite to create the ideal we all, deep down, want to believe is possible.

New Moon

We have so many indicators of a new paradigm coming to the fore, and a new moon (coupled with all the other major aspects) is, as we know, the time to set in motion the dream we wish to manifest.

As a result, I feel in my heart and soul that we are also being confronted with radical hope. Deep within our souls, thousands – perhaps millions – of people of all skin pigmentations are resonating with a seismic shift that will change our country forever.

Perhaps, just maybe, we are witnessing the birth of a new world.

Opossum Reminds Us

This opossum was just visiting me only minutes before I sat down to write this post tonight. I felt like its appearance was fortuitous. It’s urging us to use strategy to accomplish the change we demand. We need to expect the unexpected; be clever in seeking our goals. And above all, we’re being reminded to use our brains and sense of drama and cleverness to change the world.

We don’t need to stoop to the level of violence. We’re smarter than that. All of us.

We need to strategically hold space for each other to get this done. We can do this. It’s time. Time for an evolution.

A Heart in the Center of the Fire – Photo: L. Weikel

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My Heart Hurts – Day 568

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Silence is Violence & My Heart Hurts – Photo: L. Weikel

My Heart Hurts

You know from my recent posts that the slow, deliberate, and unwarranted killing (murder) of George Floyd in Minneapolis one week ago today – on Memorial Day – has haunted me. And of course I know I am not alone. The depraved manner in which that police officer coldly and nonchalantly pressed his knee onto the back of Mr. Floyd’s neck until his life was snuffed out felt like a straw that broke our country’s back. My heart hurts.

I only heard about the protest scheduled for the center of Doylestown (Bucks County’s county seat) at 11:00 a.m. this morning, but Karl and I managed to get there by the appointed start time of 1:00 p.m. The crowd seemed to still be growing over an hour and a half after the protest began.

Taking a Knee – Photo: L. Weikel

Taking a Knee

I have to say, I had a hard time joining in on any of the chants. Every time I opened my mouth to raise my voice in protest, that voice failed me. It cracked quite pathetically as I was overcome with a depth of emotion that welled up within me. I felt overcome by the enormity of the injustice and cruelty that’s inflicted on our fellow Americans, just because their skin is darker than mine. How utterly absurd.

One of the most powerful moments, for me, was when the crowd of over (at least) 100 people collectively took a knee and simply held several minutes of sustained silence. It seemed as though even the traffic was muted. The silence was eerie and profound.

A Lovely Moment

I happened to look behind me at one point and was given the gift of witnessing a lovely moment of helping hands and kindness. I’ll let the photo speak for itself.

Loving Helping Hands – Photo: L. Weikel

Support and Solidarity

As traffic continued to flow through the center of town, the vast majority of cars and trucks honked their horns and waved their hands in support, eliciting applause and whoops of solidarity and hope from the protesters filling the square and lining the sidewalks along both sides of Main Street and Court Street. (By the time we left, I’m pretty sure there were at least 200-250 people in attendance.)

And then we engaged in the part of the protest that was, without question, the most profound for me.  Everyone who was able chose to lay prone on the cobblestones or concrete before them. We assumed the position that George Floyd was forced to endure and we maintained that position for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. Many of my fellow protesters called out, “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

“I can’t breathe” – Photo: L. Weikel

I Wept

Yet again, I found myself incapable of joining in with my voice. Instead, I will admit it: I wept. Hot tears flooded into the Covid-mask I wore, and I did indeed find my breath stifled and thick. But the sadness. The sadness just rocked my body as I allowed myself to even for one moment imagine the depth of Mr. Floyd’s fear and pain and disbelief that his life would end in that moment. For what? For nothing. While passersby yelled for his murderers to stop, the pressure continued. Unrelenting. Until it was over. And even then, the pressure continued. Just to make sure, I guess.

Why? Because he was black. Because he was at the mercy of those with the power. Because they could.

The wanton abuse of power in our nation must end. We must use our power to establish much needed and long awaited justice. Vote.

If you live in Pennsylvania, and you haven’t already done it by mail, exercise your power today (Tuesday, June 2, 2020) – and especially in November.

Vote! – Photo: L. Weikel

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