There’s something about photos of reflections that captivates my imagination. It’s almost like playing the game of whisper down the alley. No, that might not be it. Perhaps it’s akin to looking at a scene through old-fashioned European rolled glass; the kind that’s sometimes used in stained glass projects.
I’ve taken a few photos of reflections that I could sit and stare at for hours. Sometimes the water appears totally calm, yet the shift in the whole texture of the reflection makes it obvious that there’s movement we might otherwise miss.
I love this – Photo: L. Weikel
The photo just above is one of those that I could stare at and lose myself within. There’s something about it – I think it exudes the vibration of a watercolor. Or maybe some kind of textured painting? Not being an artist nor having any education in the field, I will confess to knowing nothing of which I speak, other than what I feel when I look at these photos.
This captivates me every time – Photo: L. Weikel
Two other photos – reflections off the surface of the Tohickon (as opposed to a big puddle) – also spring to mind. I captured them in this post (but have included one of them above).
There’s a peace, a calm, that I feel emanating from them. There’s also an aliveness conveyed that feels almost more juicy – or is it ethereal? – than the objects themselves.
Angels’ Wings Etched In The Sky – Photo: L. Weikel
Angels’ Wings
Today was an exquisite winter day. Bright sunlight reflected off the choppy, muddy waves of the Lenape Sipu as it flowed toward the freedom of the Atlantic, while wisps of clouds that reminded me of angels’ wings inscribed the azure sky above with a fine-tipped nib.
The weird thing is, I’m not one to see angelic forms all that often. Most of you probably know me well enough to appreciate I’m more of a person who sees animals in the clouds than anything else. Angels, not so much.
I could kick myself now because I flirted with stopping in the middle of the road when I first spotted the wispy figures, but thought better of it. While the road I was on was deserted in that moment, there was nowhere for me to pull off safely. It didn’t feel like a wise move to try to get a good shot of those angels’ wings. I would’ve had to get out of the car to get a clear photo of them without telephone poles or wires marring the image.
Shared Perfection
My delight in walking along the bank of my beloved Delaware River was heightened by the fact that I was in the company of dear friends not seen in person in a very long time.
The funny thing was, as we walked and talked and caught up on each others’ lives, even more wispy hints of angelic forms appeared above our heads. Already regretting my choice not to stop and take a couple photos of the sky earlier, I did manage to snag one photo as we walked.
I didn’t want to take my phone out of my pocket – even to take photos. I just wanted us to be together without any electronic devices distracting or disturbing us. As a result, I only have the single photo, above, to share with you tonight.
Must Be Something to It
But I have to say, for all my resistance, there must have been something ‘angelic’ going on. Not only did I see them on my way to meet my friends, but also, as the photo above attests, they continued showing up in the sky above as we walked.
The final moment causing me to surrender and say, “OK, angels are definitely present and watching over us today,” came when we entered a rock and gem shop at the conclusion of our visit. One of my friends took me to see a type of stone that was persistently calling her name. And there they were again – angels’ wings. The crystalline structure was precisely reminiscent of angels’ wings; and yet I hesitated to state the obvious. (Because, again, angels aren’t usually my ‘thing.’)
But there it was, even written in the description of the stone itself. Seraphinite. Seraphim.
Exquisite.
It seems only right to accept that our visit was smiled upon and watched over by the angelic realm. I call upon that realm every single time I open Sacred Space. Why wouldn’t they generously bless a reunion of friends?
I realize I’m jumping on the bandwagon tonight, but seriously – how could anyone witnessing this evening’s spectacular sunset resist taking a photo (or 10)? I saw so many photos of this very same sunset on FB tonight. I tried to talk myself out of sharing my photos, but here I am.
What I love is how so many of us chose to revel in the astounding beauty that unfolded before our eyes. The colors and incredibly variegated forms of the clouds made me feel like I was living in a Cloud Appreciation Society video. Round clouds resembling giant medicine balls (remember them from high school? talk about useless) gave way to swooshes that resembled mares’ manes.
And the colors. As rich and vibrant as they appeared one moment, they miraculously took on even greater resonance moment by moment.
Then – just like that – the entire tenor of the spectacle shifted to a still lovely but far less fiery demand of our attention.
Same Sunset – Moments Later; Photo: L. Weikel
A Sense of Quiet
Our walk, while visually captivating, was also remarkably quiet and still. Was it the sudden blanket of cold air that seemed to mute the landscape?
Perhaps it’s just the approaching anniversary of the insurrection that has me feeling a little uneasy. I dare say, it’s on most of our minds.Something unsettling is in the air, and I’m not quite sure what it is.
Maybe it’s Covid and the ultra contagiousness of the Omicron variant.
Photo: L. Weikel
All It Takes Is a Moment
I spoke to someone I care about today who contracted the virus over this past weekend. Triple vaxxed, extremely careful, she spent the evening with a single, solitary friend who is equally cautious. Just the two of them escorting 2021 out the door in the comfort of her friend’s home.
As the night unfolded, her friend started to feel weird. Rapidly, she felt worse and worse. My friend started feeling the effects last night and tested positive this morning. Because she has some rather substantial risk factors, I’m hoping she’s a candidate for monoclonal antibodies. During Delta’s surge, that probably wouldn’t have been an issue. But given the explosion in number of infections with Omicron, that therapy is now in short supply.
All it takes is a moment for everything to change.
If this is indeed the quiet before a storm (or storms), let’s pay attention. Remain vigilant. Love and care for each other. And celebrate Nature’s dazzling gifts with an open heart (and a camera at the ready).
I’ll admit it: I’m contemplating shamelessly exploiting more of my pets to avoid sitting with and exploring the unsettled feelings that are coming up for me. And that’s kind of a weird thing. Not shamelessly exploiting my pets, of course. If you’ve been reading my posts for any length of time, you know I do that with abandon. Indeed, whenever I’m at a loss for something to write about, I look to my four legged friends to bail me out.
No, what’s weird is the fact that I seem to be avoiding altogether the task of excavating and reflecting upon my feelings as I approach the completion of my 1111 Devotion. So I’m left with this creeping sense of dread that if I don’t look for the meaning, it will have meant nothing at all.
But even that feels disingenuous. I committed to this Act of Power to find some small way to honor the life and creativity of my son. I did it as an act of devotion to the relationship I lost when he died. I did it because I wanted to acknowledge the hole he left in my heart – in my life – and those of his father and brothers as well. And I know there are others out there who loved him – and miss him – as well.
Taken today, too – Photo: L. Weikel
Regret
There are days when I regret my failure to create something truly meaningful and enduring to remember Karl by. He was passionate about feeding people and caring for the un-housed. He had that uncommon generosity of sharing what little he had with those who had less. I’m keenly aware that I barely even wrote about these societal challenges, much less did anything to alleviate them.
Many families that lose a child seem to turn their tragedy into an instrument of good. Their efforts range from establishing foundations to counter the gun lobby, or raising money to research SIDS, or creating better systems to feed the food insecure or to bring tiny homes to communities.
I stand in awe of mothers who create legacies of this kind.
So, no. I don’t put a lot of stock in the fact that I stayed up late 1111 nights in a row to write about stuff. From what I saw on my walks in nature that day to my reactions to the slow-moving coup we call our daily lives (in the U.S. and world-wide, sadly), my missives covered some pretty mundane, albeit occasionally fanciful subjects. And what I’m realizing in this moment is that they were, for the most part, a pretty far cry from creative. So much for honoring Karl’s prodigious creativity and irreverence.
Don’t Get Me Wrong
Lest I leave you with the sense that I regret this effort, please, let me assure you, that’s not the case. I think I can safely say my skills at iPhone photography alone have benefited significantly. So right there is an artistic and creative aspect to this project that I didn’t foresee.
And beyond a shadow of a doubt, the most amazing aspect to this 1111 Devotion was the dedication displayed by so many of you. By making a point to read my posts each day (and sometimes having to go to Facebook to find the daily missive or search directly on my website), each of you engaged in an Act of Power yourselves.
I can’t thank you enough for being such steadfast companions on this journey.
(Hmmm. Well, this was a surprise. I guess I’ll exploit my pets tomorrow night instead. I still have three more posts to write!)
Falling asleep again at my keyboard tonight. I hate it when I do that. Maybe it’s to be expected, though, when you don’t turn off your bedside light until 2:00 a.m. Then toss in a few mornings (including today’s) of sleepy, face-licking puppies needing to be taken out to sprinkle the yard.
I’ve been trying to be a zealot over taking the pups outside to do their thing. And yet…there just seems to be something not connecting with them. We’ve tried rewarding with praise and coaxing with trainer treats. If we pick them up and take them outside, they’ll go willingly enough. It’s the independent realization that they need to go – and they need to go outside – that we’re still waiting to have click into place.
We tried putting a puppy pad down when we first brought them home. Brutus shredded that sucker faster than you could say, “Go pee-pee!”
Perhaps we’ll rent a carpet cleaner this weekend and ‘start fresh.’ That might end up being the best option.
Keep your fingers crossed for us that we get this resolved relatively quickly.
Easter egg colors – Photo: L. Weikel
Return to the Sky
While the pups have taken a number of walks already (short spurts for them, then getting carried most of the way), I managed to take a walk by myself today. I have to marvel at the difference it makes to have to literally carry an extra six pounds (or 12 if I’m carrying both of them) any distance. If that isn’t incentive to lose that extra ten pounds of Covid weight, I don’t know what is.
I hope everyone got a chance to spend at least a chunk of time outside today. It was definitely one of ‘those’ days. You know: the type that makes you swear God(dess) must wear a beret and clench a paintbrush between her teeth. (Between her teeth?) The artistry and flair I witnessed tonight was breathtaking.
The striations of pink, purple, and chartreuse in these clouds were not your normal rainbow. And the evolution of the clouds as they formed and reformed today told stories upon stories, if only I could decipher them.
I’ve missed encountering clouds that are blog-worthy.
We buried Spartacus this evening. Our entire nuclear family was present for the ceremony, although the Boston** contingent had to attend via FaceTime. Amazingly, the weather held. In fact, when Karl and I walked before the burial, we were sure the ominous clouds building and racing through the sky cast some serious doubt on whether we’d even get the job accomplished tonight. Instead of raining on our ceremony, though, the clouds parted and – cross my heart – the stars and planets shone brightly in the sky above us.
Mama Killa (pronounced Mama keeya), Grandmother moon in Quechua, rose in her just-past-full abundance behind our house (from where we were burying Spartacus). Her light framed our house in a golden light. Of course, we buried Spartacus right beside his mother, both of them facing our house so they could always keep an eye on their people and home.
In the Clouds – Photo: L. Weikel
A Little Magic
I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have some sort of magical dust to sprinkle on our experience, right? Well, starting out this evening, as Karl and I walked, the clouds scuttling across the sky revealed a formation that was a pretty obvious reminder of Spartacus, especially his distinctive ears.
It was fleeting, but we both saw it.
During the ceremony, Cletus made a point of being with us, meowing the entire time. Cletus did the exact same thing when we buried Sheila. It’s as if he’s our designated keener. He cried and cried until Sacred Space was opened. He was silent during our heartfelt sendoff, then proceeded to cry and circle between all our legs again as Sacred Space was closed.
And speaking of heartfelt sendoffs, Tiffany sang a Patsy Cline song to Spartacus, honoring his devotion to us and our daily walks. I dare you to listen and not well up. I was blown away.
Keeping an Eye On Us
There was another synchronicity between Sheila’s burial and Spartacus’s (it still pains me to write that) involving Tiffany that I’ll share with you tomorrow.
But I’m going to leave you with the photo at the top of this post and below. What you see is what I saw when I looked up this evening, just as my son was leaving. This is the window that faces where the dogs are buried. But it looks out onto our porch. They are buried at least a hundred yards away.
If I did not know that Spartacus could not be out on the porch somehow managing to look in the window asking to be let in, I would’ve stood up right then and there and gone out to the kitchen to let him in.
It’s a moment of magic. And to be honest, one that made my heart skip a beat. Spartacus was known for his big bat-like ears.
Good grief. As I typed these words, I just turned to see if the shadow was still there. It is – and it moved. Again, my heart leapt into my throat. My mind grasps for a logical explanation and lands on, “This is a trick being played on me by the leaves of our trees.” Oh please. Who am I to explain it away? And why?
Nature conspires for the Magic Win of the evening.
Who’s Peeking In Our Window? – Photo: L.Weikel
*Ignore my dirty windows.
**Not to be confused with the Boston Terrier contingent, both members of which were in attendance in spirit, as opposed to via FaceTime.
Cloud Raptor Hovering Above Us All – Photo: L. Weikel
Natural Distraction
There’s a lot going on in the world right now. I realize I’m stating the obvious. But it’s rough to put our attention anywhere where news of the outside world can seep in because it’s all so overwhelming. And while I sit here contemplating the most recent headlines and questioning whether I want to write about anything of consequence, I find myself scrolling through the photos on my phone. Nah. My thoughts are irrelevant; but the sun and clouds? They offer a perfect natural distraction.
I’m not sure what was going on in the atmosphere toward dusk this evening. The clouds were doing all sorts of things, seemingly indecisive of which way they wanted to go, what texture or color they wanted to embody, or how they wanted to express themselves. At times rippling like gentle currents in a stream and at others creating vapor creatures covering vast swaths of the sky, it was as if the sky was a cosmic doodle notebook.
Repeating Faces and Textures – Photo: L. Weikel
Doodles
Yes, sometimes when we have a need to distract ourselves from thinking about something we have no power to influence or remedy, it’s helpful to doodle. Today (just today!) there’s so much occurring around the world and in our country that feels so ominous yet remains essentially out of our reach: the recent earthquakes in Alaska and Haiti (why does this island nation suffer so many relentless tragedies?), the horrific crumbling of Afghanistan to Taliban rule – including the long and short term vengeance that will probably be meted out to those who sought equality and freedom; and the depressing surge of Covid-19 delta cases claiming the health and lives of more and more (primarily) younger people, many of whom thought they were invincible.
And that’s just three ‘huge deals’ playing out on the world stage. We all know there are many more ongoing issues – wildfires, approaching hurricanes, droughts, floods. It’s hard not to think we’re in some sick disaster movie.
Roadrunner? Running Pheasant? – Photo: L. Weikel
We Have Beauty
We have zero control over how most of these issues play out. It’s beyond upsetting to contemplate the suffering of so many and feel…powerless. And so I’m sharing the beauty that played out in the skies above me today.
Spirit was doodling – giving us a natural distraction. Perhaps we’ll each be inspired tomorrow on how we can make a difference in our unique sphere of influence. If nothing else, keeping ourselves from despair and envisioning beauty and joy surely has to have power of its own?
I spoke in my post yesterday about the awe-inspiring artistry that unfolded before my eyes yesterday as Spartacus and I walked off our adrenaline. It was as if Pachamama (the Creative Essence known as Mother Earth) was determined to reward me for maintaining my cool in the midst of a volatile situation. She wooed me with her ever-changing cloud formations, which was by the two Red-tailed Hawks that screeched at me along the way. The clouds, though…
It’s hard to convey how the clouds, mere pockets of water vapor shape-shifted and held aloft by unique atmospheric conditions could take my breath away. But they did.
Tonight I’m posting the photos of the last portion of yesterday’s walk because I need to share them with you. They are too beautiful for me to just shrug off and forget about.
Another factor, as you can see, is that they appear so drastically different than the earlier photos; it’s rather astonishing that they were all taken within minutes of each other.
Merging – Photo: L. Weikel
Glad I Waited
I’m glad I waited to post them. Today’s weather mostly sported a blanket of overcast very high above, so I have to admit, the joy factor just wasn’t emanating from the sky as it had yesterday. And it was tangible.
There’s so much rancor and division everywhere we look. I feel like we all need to grab the wonder of being alive right now wherever we can find it.
For instance, today I took a walk with a dear friend. I drove to her home and when I stepped out of my car, I literally became mesmerized by the sound of the cicadas filling the trees surrounding her home. She only lives three miles from my house, but the abundance of the surrounding forest has apparently encouraged an immense horde of the creatures to burrow up and out of their 17 year homes. The ‘guys’ are just singing their hearts out to woo their girls.
I wonder why the forest around High Rocks isn’t whirring in this manner. We’re so close – and yet the aural proof of their emergence is drastically different. Regardless of ‘why,’ the fact remains that I was transfixed when their other-worldly hum engulfed my senses.
I recorded them, but it the recording didn’t do them justice. Maybe I’ll try my hand at recalling how to post things on my YouTube account and at least post what I have. But it pales in comparison.
I’m going to need to return to that forest setting soon just to sit with them. Their unique artistry calls to me.
There’s nothing like some stormy weather to bring sky visions that make me want to swoon. Actually, instead of falling away in a faint, I simply find myself stopping every several yards to gape in wonder at the magnificence unfolding across the aerial landscape.
When I have to walk alone (I should clarify: when only Spartacus and I are on a walk) I find myself snapping impatiently at the poor pup, who only wants to keep moving to the next scent station while I insist on taking yet another photo. I can almost hear him whining “But Mommy, you just took three photos. We need to keep mooooviiiing.” And so he tugs on his leash, which jerks my arms and jiggles my phone, and causes me to mess up the photo.
But the shifting clouds and sunlight, the shapes transforming before my eyes, the shafts of light creating elevators to the Hanaqpacha (Upper World) beckon irresistibly. I know first-hand: if you blink your eyes they’re gone. And just because the sky is full of mysterious permutations at the moment does not mean they’ll be here tomorrow. Far from it. They may not be here five minutes from now. Thus, I must seize the moment, puppy impatience be damned.
Soften your gaze – North Wind – Photo: L. Weikel
North Wind
Much to Spartacus’s chagrin, I couldn’t stop stopping today. The magic was relentless. I was simply happy we were managing to get a walk in at all. Just as my ‘work’ day was coming to a close, the aforementioned stormy weather really kicked in and I started to doubt. But the wind and rain only lasted for an hour or so, and Spart and I soon decided to risk it.
Look at the above cloud bank. Soften your gaze. Do you see the face within the great blue grayness? It’s reminiscent, to me at least, of the bronzed face of Harrison Ford (as Han Solo) in the second Star Wars movie. I didn’t see that face until I got home. I took the photo for the simple purpose of capturing the power aloft.
Good Boy
Maybe ten minutes later at the most, I couldn’t allow the exquisite beauty unfolding before my eyes to go unrecorded one more moment. “Spart! Hang on! Come ‘ere!” My commands punctuated the shushing of the wind as it worked to unfurl the newly budded leaves of the ash, sycamore, and maples behind me. The setting sun illuminating wisps of clouds in peach colored garb wouldn’t wait.
He listened – for the most part. Well enough to deserve two treats after Mommy took her dumb photos. What a good boy.
Tomorrow (aka ‘today’ by the time you read this) is the first day of May, i.e., May Day. April was unceremoniously escorted off the premises by the aforementioned Wild Winds I warned of last night.
I’ll admit it; the intensity of the wind and the sound of it roaring through the trees exhilarated me. Blasting away the heat of the past two days, which was oppressive in its sudden onset, it felt like the last vestiges of 2020 were finally being whisked away.
The first order of business this morning was bringing in our wind chimes. We’d slept with our bedroom windows open last night and it was hard to hear myself think when I awoke. The chimes’ normally mellifluous tones quickly devolved into a clattering tangle of tubes.
Perelandra
I mention that tomorrow (today) is May Day because, as always, the first of the month is the day I join thousands of people across the world in engaging in an extremely simple, five minute (if that) act called the Essence of Perelandra (EoP) Biodiversity Process. I’ve written about this many times over the past 900 posts and encourage everyone to participate for a variety of reasons.
First and foremost, I respect the work of Machaelle Small Wright and Perelandra, the center she established decades ago in Virginia. It is not unlike the work engaged in at Findhorn, in Scotland, in the manner in which the consciousness of Nature is respected and engaged with directly.
Second of all, this process couldn’t be more simple, yet it is uniting people across the world in setting an intention of bringing balance and healing to our biosphere. This process enables each and every one of us to take one small step toward healing ourselves and bringing strength and support to our personal environment in order to counter climate change stresses.
Beyond our compulsive commitment to carrying a bag everywhere we walk in order to pick up trash, engaging in the EoP Biodiversity Process on the first of every month feels like an opportunity to make a difference that’s just too simple to pass up.
Clouds
Because the atmosphere was so volatile today, the wind was driving a tumult of clouds into a variety of intriguing shapes and aspects to each other. As Spartacus and I walked, we didn’t even need to worry when fat drops of water started splatting down upon us. Almost as quickly as the billowing slate gray cloud started spilling over onto us, it stopped.
At one point, though, I wasn’t sure if I was looking at Kermit the Frog or ET. I still can’t make up my mind.
But the presence of The Mystery was both palpable and undeniably visible in a couple of the photos I took. My wish is that we awaken this first day of May eager to embrace the freshly scrubbed face of Mother Earth. The Winds of Change have arrived.
