Well, it sure seemed like today was a huge test for a lot of us here in the United States – even a bigger test than the special election in Wisconsin a few weeks ago. And I have to wonder what consequences we’ll be witnessing two weeks from now.
I was astonished when I drove to my office today (where I didn’t encounter a single person, by the way). But the traffic was shocking. Cabin fever, it would seem, has hit our country and hit it hard.
Not only was there a steady stream of traffic racing past my office for several hours today, but when Karl and I took a walk early this evening, our neighbors revealed what a hellacious day they’d had. Apparently people are losing their minds in the state and county parks.
Give a Little, Take a Lot
All of you who’ve been reading my posts know that I am an ardent advocate of people getting out into nature and taking walks, biking, whatever, as much as possible. In fact, when this pandemic was just in its infancy (as far as us realizing that social distancing was going to be our single best tool in keeping transmission rates down), I voiced upset over Pennsylvania’s initial choice to close the parks.
Well, I stand corrected. I had a lot more faith that people would use their damn heads if and when permitted to use our state and county parks. No. Such. Luck.
We have people parking in places that were never meant to be used as such. (Let us hope no one slips and falls at High Rocks, since there’s a huge risk that emergency vehicles wouldn’t even be able to get to the park, there are so many cars parked bumper to bumper on the sides of the roads leading to the park.)
And then there are the roving packs of people. There were groups of 10-12-14 people walking together today, laughing and having a great time together – as if they haven’t a care in the world. Not a face mask in sight.
They were given the opportunity to spread their legs and get out into nature – and they are taking too much. Those packs of people walking shoulder to shoulder up our country roads, blocking those roads with their cars, and not even seeming to care one whit about the people they’re ‘sharing’ trails with (or parking in – at their own homes), are reverting right back to the selfish ways that got us here in the first place.
We’ll See
Another example of this is reflected in the news reports that beaches in Florida and California are teeming with people desperate to ‘get back to normal’ and ‘soak in some rays.’
Well, for as much benefit as sunlight provides in killing the virus, I have a feeling, two weeks from now, we may see that sunshine wasn’t enough.
Case in point: just fifteen days following the election in Wisconsin on April 7th, 19 people have tested positive for the coronavirus.
I guess we’ll see how things fare two weeks from now. The worst part of all of this is that it’s not just people taking risks with their own lives. That would be one thing. But it’s another thing entirely when people decide to risk giving the virus to others. More and more, we’re discovering that asymptomatic people can easily be unwittingly spreading the virus like wildfire.
If you haven’t been tested, how do you know you’re not the ticking time bomb that will explode someone else’s life?
Two weeks from now will be interesting. I hope it’s not terribly depressing.
Last Night’s New Moon/Lyrid Night Sky – Photo: L. Weikel
Unexpected Opportunity
When I woke up this morning, I never guessed I’d be presented with such an unexpected opportunity. But there it was – a text message, asking if I would be willing to be interviewed for a segment on ‘Spirituality in the Time of Covid-19.’
The sheer fact that I was given the chance to voice my perspective is surprising enough. But on KYW Newsradio? (Yes, all of you from the tristate area surrounding Philadelphia, say the jingle aloud with me: “KYW, Newsradio…1060!”)
Nope. I have to admit it; I didn’t see that coming.
But when I received that text message this morning, I immediately flashed to the fact that today is the new moon. New beginnings. A perfect time for planting the seeds of what we want to create in the future.
My Passion
I love the world that has opened up for me over the past 35 years through my studies of, and experiences in, shamanism. Embracing my relationship with Mother Earth and the interconnectedness of all beings, and exploring the different realms that exist around us, changed the course of my life.
My passion for this perspective on life and my direct experience of astonishing shifts in both my relationship to life as well as those of my family, friends, and clients, strikes a chord in me that is difficult to shush once you get me going.
Pretty Low Key
Nevertheless, overall, I think I come across to most people as pretty low key when it comes to my relationship with ‘the spiritual realm.’ I don’t shout from the rooftop the nature of my work. I don’t try to persuade people to ‘believe’ anything in particular. But I do love introducing people to our inherent ability as humans to access information from and establish relationships with unseen forces and archetypal presences that want us to remember and recognize that they have sentience.
Whew. That was saying a lot. Luckily, I didn’t wax quite so rhapsodic in my interview.
Speaking Out
Given that I tend to mostly only speak of this passion to my family, friends, and clients (and to those of you who care enough to read this blog), I have to admit, when I was invited to participate in the interview today, my first inclination was to say no.
But I do try to ‘walk my talk.’ And given everything I’ve been writing about lately, the choice seemed clear and unequivocal – even if it did make me really nervous.
So I just wanted to let you all know that I planted the seed of one of my intentions today. And I’m so incredibly grateful for the unexpected opportunity to do so.
I hope you planted some as well.
Maybe you’ll catch the segment if you tune in tomorrow.
I know I’m not alone. I know I’m not the only one who asks, “What day is it?” to whomever is nearest me – usually Spartacus or Tigger, but occasionally Karl – far more often than I should.
Sheila has two paws into the next world lately, so she’s definitely not a reliable source to ask. She usually just looks up at me with her rheumy eyes and says, “Seriously? Don’t ask me that. If you’re not going to open a can of food, just cover me with a blanket and let me go back to sleep.”
Fair enough. I can relate.
A New Rhythm
I’m finding it frustrating that I’ve yet to establish a new rhythm for myself.
If you had told me a month ago that the one reliable part of my day would be listening to Governor Cuomo’s daily briefing, I guarantee I would’ve scoffed. He’s not even governor of my state, for heaven’s sake.
But that’s my truth. Listening to him give us the facts, lead with logic, and support all of us (not just New Yorkers) with compassion and heart, has been a reliable centering post for me. I happen to be one of those people who believe that government can be, and is, when properly staffed and maintained, a force for good. So it’s a comfort to me to listen to him respect his constituents enough to tell them the truth– and then expect them to handle it.
As I go about trying to find my new rhythm I’m realizing that, at least lately, I’ve been having more trouble concentrating. Intellectually, I know this is probably a natural consequence of dealing with the stress of all the unknowns that have suddenly become part of our lives. But it feels a little lame.
A Bracing Slap
I don’t need to tell you guys how important walking is to my quality of life. If nothing else, my walks more often than not yield the photos around which I write many of my posts – which is reason enough to get me out the door.
Well, today’s walk was a startling experience. Just as we were heading out the door, my phone bleeped an alert that cautioned we should expect rain to begin in 20 minutes. It was tempting. Should we stay or should we go? We decided to initially ‘just do a stop sign,’ which effectively ruled out our longer four mile trek, but hey – it got us out of the house.
Imagine our surprise when it started snowing little spitballs at us as we rounded our first corner. Brrr! The entire walk ended up feeling like a bracing slap by Mother Earth – telling us to buck up and snap out of our somnambulism. At least, that’s what I felt like I was being told. I guess I shouldn’t speak for Karl.
Ultimately, I think it will serve me best to stop asking, “What day is it?” and just get on with living whatever damn day it is. If it takes a couple more days or weeks or whatever to fully acclimate to the transformation that’s taking place across the globe and within our lives, so be it. There is a balance to all of this if we just give ourselves the chance to find it.
Again, that’s where that patience and acceptance comes in. It’s not a lesson to be glibly ‘learned’ one day and forgotten the next. No. I’m pretty sure that’s part of that new rhythm I seek.
Oh – and you’re probably reading this on Friday. (wink)
“Really? Open a can of food and we’ll talk” – Photo: L. Weikel
As I sit here trying to think of something to write this evening, I keep dismissing each idea that pops into my head. Nope. Not that. Nope. Not that, either. I annoy myself as I nix each thought. Until I realize: I’m holding my breath.
Literally and figuratively.
So I write that as the working title to my post and I realize with the force of a whack upside the head that this awful freaking virus is all about our breath. It’s all about breath and breathing. Or not being able to take one or enjoy doing it anymore.
I make a point to take a deep breath – if only to notice it, relish it, be grateful for it.
Momentous Week
Why am I holding my breath? Because I, too, feel this week will bring shock and sadness to so many of us. To any and all of us who are paying attention.
And it will only be the beginning.
We thought we were witnessing the beginning recently? No. We weren’t. We were just watching the opening credits.
Now is when the rough stuff really starts unfolding, when the images we see playing out before us slam into the vision of reality that we insist on pretending we see. This is when we find out whether the center can hold – on whether our centers can hold. This is when we are faced with the consequences of our choices and the choices of others.
We’re In This Together
Because, yet again, we’re in this together. The dire predictions for New York City are probably going to start manifesting this week. But the real shock is going to come when it happens elsewhere.
Everyone expects NYC to get slammed. Many who are intimidated by the intensity and startling diversity of NYC look at NYC in smug judgment. But what about other cities that are not quite as diverse? Rural areas? Our small towns and villages where people think they’re immune to the consequences of policies enacted in Washington D. C.? Something tells me they’re in for a terrible surprise.
So…yeah. I’m holding my breath. I don’t want the dire predictions to play out. And I wish we didn’t have to live through such cataclysm in order to force us to change our ways.
But as long as we insist on thinking we’re special or it won’t happen to us we perpetuate the spread of this misery.
There is a solution. There is a lesson. It’s the realization on the most profound of levels (from the seemingly insignificant to the obviously momentous) that we’re really and truly all connected. We are all related. And we need to start acting like it, from the ground up. I’m holding my breath (again) – for all of us.
As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, I’ve received the coolest gift from Spirit on my last two birthdays: the unmistakable appearance of a bird that I felt was bringing me a message about a potential theme in my life for the coming year. Themes and messages, they’re all around us.
Before last year’s appearance of a pileated woodpecker right outside my bedroom window on the morning of my 60th birthday last year, I don’t recall ever having a bird (or any other emissary of the natural world) make a point of showing up in my life on my birthday. And the manner in which the woodpecker showed up last year – hammering me awake, hauling me from the dreamtime – made the bird’s message seem all that more compelling.
I Lost Track
I’ll admit it; while I didn’t forget that the pileated woodpecker had dramatically appeared on the morning of my birthday, I did neglect to check in on whether there was any applicability of the bird’s message as my year unfolded. I hate to admit it, but I lost track of the pileated theme.
Last night, when I reread my post from last year, I immediately noticed the use – twice – of the word ‘wary’ in the quote I included from Animal-Wise*. That, in and of itself, should have been a concept I highlighted in my own consciousness as a watchword for my year.
I don’t know. If I’d exercised vigilance in revisiting the pileated’s message would I have made other choices or picked up on the motives or actions of others before getting blindsided? Would I have allowed myself to become so sidetracked by the needs and desires of a few others that I set aside my own sense of the rhythms and ways in my life? I don’t know.
But I do know I could’ve – and probably should’ve – been more wary.
A Second Chance
Imagine my delight when I awoke yesterday morning to the squawking and incessant voice of a blue jay – again – just outside my bedroom window. Truly, I was delighted. I confess that when I went to sleep the night before I wondered if the pileated would show up again as magically and unmistakably as it had last year. (I have heard it – or them – hammering relentlessly in the small stand of woods on the edge of our property.)
But Blue Jay’s birthday morning wake up call was such a confirmation! I’ve found at least a dozen Blue Jay feathers over the past couple of weeks, probably since the beginning of March. And it’s not as if some poor bird got nailed by a car (or an owl) leaving a pile of feathers. No, it was a couple here and a couple there. Several singlets. And all along at various points along our two and four mile walking routes. Blue Jay has been present.
I feel this is a second chance for me to notice and continue to pay attention to this theme being set for my year.
Joining Heaven and Earth
I’ve looked up the meaning of Blue Jay many times over the years, but I must confess, I only retain a cursory recollection of what many birds and animals represent. Since I’m working with them for others so often, I try not focus on specific characteristics because I don’t want to have any pre-conceived notions when I journey to find power animals for others.
The last time I’d probably looked up Blue Jay for my own edification was when two pairs of blue jays nested above both of the doorways to our home. That was about 15 years ago at least, possibly 20. And all I remembered was that the feathers of blue jays signify the sky (blue) joining heaven (white) and earth (black). Beyond that, I just generally enjoy their somewhat pugnacious attitudes, even if they can be a bit annoying.
Audubon.org
A Different Perspective
So when I looked up Blue Jay again last night, I felt a bit of a chill ripple through me. The message feels like it is much more specific than just some random application of the three colors of its feathers.
“KEYNOTE: The Proper Use of Power CYCLE OF POWER: Year Round
(…) For those to whom the jay comes as a totem, it can reflect lessons in using your own power properly. It can also reflect lessons in not allowing yourself to be placed in a position in which power is misused against you.
(…) It has the ability to link the heavens and earth, to access each for greater power.
The black and white markings found on its blue wings also reflect this same ability. The sky (blue) separates the Heavens (white) and the earth (black). This is a totem that can move between both and tap the primal energies at either level. The jay is aware of this innate ability, and this is reflected in its blue crest – higher knowledge that can be used.
The bright blue crest of the jay should always be a reminder that to wear the crown of true mastership requires dedication, responsibility, and committed development in all things in the physical and the spiritual. The blue jay is a reminder to follow through on all things – to not start something and then leave it dangling.
The blue jay reflects that a time of greater resourcefulness and adaptability is about to unfold. You are going to have ample opportunities to develop and use your abilities. The jay does not usually migrate, staying around all winter, so look for there to be ample time to develop and use your energies to access new levels. It will stay around and work with you as long as you need it.
The blue jay is actually a member of the crow family, and most crows have no fear. Crows and jays alike will gang up to harass and drive off owls and hawks. The jay is fearless, and it is because of this that it can help you to connect with the deepest mysteries of the earth and the greatest of the heavens.
(…)
(…) If the jay has flown into your life, it indicates that you are moving into a time where you can begin to develop the innate royalty that is within you, or simple be a pretender to the throne. It all depends upon you. The jay has no qualms. It will teach you either direction.”
Gauntlet Thrown
Obviously, I’ve excerpted here (and it was still a long post!). And if experience is any lesson, undoubtedly the parts I’ve left out will be the ones that end up having the most significance.
But all in all, I tried to include here the paragraphs that hit me hardest when I read them. In other words, “Yeah, I need to commit. I need to be courageous. I need to do the work.”
I’d say the gauntlet has been thrown. Blue Jay has come knocking and is ready, willing, and able to kick my ass if I don’t develop and use my abilities, apparently in a new or different way than I have so far.
And quite frankly, I feel this relates in particular to developing or offering who I am in service to others in the face of this utterly unique challenge our entire world is facing.
Finally, it’s not lost on me that blue jays are corvids. I’ve known that blue jays, crows, ravens are all corvids, and every time I’ve written about the pandemic I’ve had to stop and make sure I was writing COVID-19 – not corvid. Somehow or another, that feels relevant. Or at least noteworthy.
So Blue Jay’s been showing up in my life for weeks. Insisting on gaining my attention. Now I know it’s going to be pushing me – as a theme and a messenger – all year. I better buckle down.
abcbirds.org
*affiliate link
**Pretty cool: today’s post is #505, leaving 606 remaining to be written!
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.
It’s becoming a tragic blur. Every day we’re hearing about more and more people losing their lives to the Coronavirus pandemic that’s exploding in our country. I’m sure this is just the tip of the iceberg, and two weeks from now (April 10th– it’s a date) we’ll wish we were only experiencing the rate of positive tests and deaths we’re reporting and lamenting today. Today’s anguish will seem ‘aspirational’ to our future selves.
If you stay off social media and refuse to turn on your tv or radio, it’s easy to both be a responsible citizen, practicing social distancing and remaining in the orbit of your home, and lose complete track of the insanity unfolding in hospitals all over the country, but especially in New York City. The nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists, and emergency personnel of all stripes who are operating in overdrive, attempting to meet the tidal wave of need that’s overcoming our cities, are operating within that tragic blur. All they see are people in fear and distress, unable to breathe, desperate for care and compassion.
No filter – Photo: L. Weikel
Guilt of Relative Ease
And here I am, ostensibly doing my best to ‘flatten the curve’ and keep our local hospitals from suffering the same fate as New York’s and becoming inundated with new Covid-19 patients. My sacrifice – if you can even call it that, which I for one honestly cannot in good conscience do – is to refrain from going anywhere other than the grocery store or the pharmacy (to neither of which places I’ve gone in a week). Hardly a sacrifice.
No, I can’t sit in the same room with my son and daughter-in-law, or give them a hug when they appear at our door bearing gifts of pizza and pierogies. But they’re not sick and neither are we. And I want it to stay that way. If not touching or sitting in the same room as them for a couple of weeks or months will do the trick? I’m all for it.
Compared to the horrors of the hospitals? There is none.
Treasure the Little Things
So in honor of those who are in the trenches, in honor of the people who are working slavishly day in and day out trying to save as many lives as possible without having the right equipment or survival mechanisms at their disposal, I try to treasure the little things.
In honor of those who are tragically losing their lives every day, I am trying to appreciate the beauty that surrounds this place where I am forced to stay for not only my own good, but the good of my family, community, county, and state.
What do I see when I pay exquisite attention?
Beauty. Innocence. Magnificence. Agelessness.
And that quality I always seem to come back to no matter how hard I try to focus my attention elsewhere: love.
In just a couple of hours the moon will be dark, obscured from our sight because it won’t be reflecting any of the light of the sun. Technically, we’ll be experiencing a new moon in Aries.
As I’ve mentioned in other posts, the new moon is a particularly fertile time to plant the seeds of ideas, intentions, or commitments we want to set into motion in our lives. One way of looking at it is to think of the dark moon as representing rich, dark, fertile soil that’s a perfect medium for nurturing life and growth. So it is a perfect time to plant those aspirations we hold for the coming days, weeks, and quite possibly beyond.
It’s interesting to read how interpretations of the particular alignment of the planets and moon reflect the challenges we’re being called to face in light of the Covid-19 pandemic. (Because this is a new moon, the sun and moon are ‘conjunct,’ or sitting at the same degree in the same sign. Thus, as you probably realize, the sun is also in Aries, having entered that sign at the equinox, which took place on March 19th this year.) Chani gives a thought-provoking description of the aspects influencing this particular new moon, and how these influences speak directly to our current experiences here.
Introspection and Hard Questions
As I’ve mentioned a number of times lately, this self-isolation we’re being urged to do (or in more and more cases, ordered to engage in via so-called ‘stay-at-home’ orders) is an unprecedented opportunity to take a deep dive into figuring out who we are and what we value at our core. It’s a chance for us to reflect on the choices we’ve made in our lives. And it quite possibly is a time in which we contemplate making new choices.
It occurs to me as I write this that we are seeing the stark truth of this reflection on what we truly value play out right in front of us on the national stage. Will we choose to continue to self-isolate if we think we may have been exposed to the virus (or simply to avoid the possibility of exposure or being exposed)? Will we choose to withdraw from social interaction and physical contact in order to protect each other and ourselves? Or will we decide that ‘getting back to work’ is more important than the very real possibility of saving lives?
As many are pointing out, a ‘dead’ economy can be revived. A dead person cannot.
Choosing Our Values
In signaling today that we may be urged to ‘return to work’ next week if we have no symptoms (the ostensible end of the 15 days of social distancing begrudgingly advocated by the federal government), we are being given a clear indication on the macro level of just what is of most value to our so-called ‘leaders.’ Indeed, I saw a clip just this evening of the Lt. Governor of Texas saying that grandparents would be happy to give their lives to provide a healthy economy to their grandchildren.
That’s an utterly absurd and appalling ‘choice’ for our government to be suggesting we make. And it’s not even true. (Surprise.) Choosing to knowingly risk even greater spread of this virus would only serve to kill more people and crash our economy even further. It would be the height of cratered and craven values.
But Here We Are
What seeds do you want to plant today? Where do your deepest values reside? What is most precious to you and how do you intend to express your devotion to it/them?
This is where we find ourselves. Our current way of living is unsustainable – on so many levels.
But we can do this. We can make the choices that will enable love, caring, and compassion to flourish. If that’s what really matters to each of us.
I’m not going to sugar coat it: last week was pretty awful. And each day seemed to take us a couple steps further down the road to – where, exactly? I’m not sure. But no matter how you look at things, I’m pretty sure you’ll agree that they’re going to get worse this week. And all we can do is hold on.
One reason things will get worse this week is because this is the first Monday of a week in which, almost everywhere, if you’re not considered an employee in an ‘essential industry’ then you will be home.
Shock to the System
This whole concept, the very idea that so many of us will no longer have an office to report to, will come as a shock to not only ‘the’ system but ‘our’ systems as well: not only our national, regional, and local economic systems, but also to our internal systems, our sense of who we are and how we personally fit into the world.
I’m not saying this to be doom and gloom. I’m saying this so you can prepare your internal system – your navigation system, your system of balance, your sense of self and how you go about your day, your comprehension of your place in the Universe. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to arrive and people are going to feel like they’ve been playing The Game of Life and their dog just bounded into the room and upended the game board, scattering the pieces to the four winds.
Boom.
We’re In This Together
If I can assure any of you reading this right now of anything, I want you to know that we’re all in this together. Every single one of us is going to be impacted by either the Coronavirus (Covid-19) or the economics of basically having our entire economy slow to a point where it’s a shell of its former self. And let’s face it: many if not most of us may ultimately end up having to deal with both.
As the week starts off, I’d like to suggest that you smudge your home. You’ll recall that smudging is a cleansing ritual in which you use the smoke of a burning bundle of sage (or of some leaves of sage burning in an appropriate container) to cleanse and purify your environment. Even just lighting up some sage and breathing in the scent can clear your head and help shift your perspective.
I feel we could all benefit from setting ourselves up for success as we set out on our quests this week.
And quests they are: discovering who we are when all our familiar touchstones (for us adults, our jobs or vocations, our workplaces, our favorite places to work out or be with friends, and for our children, our schools, our sports and competitions, our musicals and school plays and band practice) are suddenly gone or unavailable to us…
Pondering the Questions
Who are we when all the things we’ve done almost without thinking for as long as we can remember are taken away from us? Who are we when we have no errands to run? No clients to call? Who are we when we suddenly have the time to do those things we’ve told ourselves we’d rather be doing? Maybe those yearnings should’ve been updated a decade ago. Maybe they’re no longer a reflection of our dreams? Maybe they were an illusion, a fantasy that simply kept us from loving our lived experience.
As we figure these things out, it’s important we remember: we’re all in this together. We’re going to get through it. It’s true, we may find that some people and situations – including ourselves – are a disappointment. These realizations will call for adjustments. But all in all? I’d wager we’re going to discover some amazing treasures along the way. Precisely because we’re all in this together.
So hold on. Take heart. Wash your hands; keep your distance; and know that together we can get through anything. And we’re going to come through it all transformed.
Some of you may remember my semi-flip out back in September when suddenly all the birds not only went silent but actually left the premises. It was a long 20 days or so before they finally started returning, much to my huge relief. It’s possible, I suppose, that they all just suddenly discovered plentiful seeds and other treats somewhere else. But the abruptness and totality of their departure – and the similar abruptness of their return – just seemed kind of weird.
I do intend to pay attention this fall, to see if they make it into an annual habit.
Looking For Normal
This past week felt like I was trapped in a time warp. Every day I had to make a concerted effort to steady and ground myself – almost as if I’d awakened in the midst of an ocean and had to regain my sea legs before I could walk into the next room. But it wasn’t a physical wavering. It was a psychological one – or perhaps even deeper; perhaps an existential one.
So many assumptions and fundamental beliefs I’ve held about our country and our ability to respond to any challenge – no matter how grave, how daunting, or how threatening – have been shattered this week. And the worst part about that? The worst part is knowing that it was completely avoidable. The worst part is knowing that our lack of preparation and ability to respond (responsibility) was facilitated by the deliberate obfuscation of those at the highest levels of our government.
And people are starting to get sick and die in numbers that grow exponentially, daily, as a result.
So? Having no real power to effect meaningful change until Election Day, I need to look for normal amidst the chaos. Looking for normal yesterday afternoon meant feeding my birds.
Everyday Joy
The temperature outside climbed to 78 degrees yesterday. Needing to ground myself and reconnect to what’s real and sustainable, I found myself sitting on my porch in the sunshine, reveling in birdsong. For a precious few minutes, I was able to wrap myself in a cocoon of delight as I listened to the robins and the fish crows trill and grok, respectively. I watched both two red shouldered woodpeckers and a downy cling to my front feeder and push around a chickadee, then heard but could not see-to-save-my-life the producer of the unmistakable, heavy-billed <<thwacking>> of a pileated just beyond the garage.
I watched goldfinches, house finches, sparrows and wrens flit and flutter amongst the shelter of the carcass of our Christmas tree, which we prop against one of the maples in our yard each year to give them additional cover from the sharp-shinned and red-tailed hawks that patrol the area. Nuthatches marched upside down on the maples and I even glimpsed either a blue bird or an indigo bunting before it disappeared into the thicket along our driveway.
My effort to reclaim normal consisted of the measured, meditative act of filling our birdfeeders and feeding the birds.
Pandemic Partners
I hope I’ll be able to keep my feeders filled over the coming months. The joy and sense of connection with All Life that birds give me is abundantly healing and centering. I recently came across this great article with excellent tips on how to make our yards welcoming, safe, and enticing to these wonderful creatures. It affirmed why Karl and I are so lucky to have so many feathered friends sharing this land we call home.
So many of the suggestions in this article are sound common sense, but they’re also little ways of changing our relationship with birds and Mother Earth that help bring us into balance with Her.
And ultimately, as we make our way through the devastation of this pandemic, coming back into balance with Mother Earth will be key. Celebrating and appreciating our birds can remind us of that.
