frog

Valuable Nuance – Day 1090

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Tonight: Jupiter, Saturn, and Venus (l-r) – Photo: L. Weikel

Valuable Nuance

I mentioned in my post last night that the card underneath my Ace of Air did seem to hold some relevance to the question I’d posed. Indeed, it probably provides some valuable nuance to my query, “What’s next?” My initial focus, of course, was on paying attention to the details of the Ace of Air, the ‘main’ card I selected. I didn’t even allow myself to look at the bottom card until later. So when I did finally glimpse the 10 of Water (from the Witches’ Wisdom Tarot*), I was surprised to see a few personally relevant details popping out right away.

I immediately noticed the Black Panther peeking out at me from the jungle foliage. The energy of Black Panther first showed up in my life (on a noticeably consistent basis) shortly after I published my book, Owl Medicine*. I kept seeing images of them in the weirdest places, including my dreams. To make a long story short (something I actually loathe – give me a good story!), it turned out that Black Panther was a harbinger of my initiation into the Q’ero tradition. Black Panther was my companion as I honored my immersion into shamanism as a calling and way of life.

10 of Water – The Witches’ Wisdom Tarot by Phyllis Curott

A New Path

Black Panther is an ally of mine, particularly with respect to certain shamanic tasks I undertake. Interestingly, Sheila (our first Boston Terrier) ‘told’ me shortly after we adopted her that she was the physical embodiment of my Black Panther. I know that probably sounds weird, but it was a palpable experience – and lasted throughout her life.

Finally, Black Panther showed up in a shamanic journey I took earlier in the day on November 12th, 2011, the day we found out Karl had died the night before. Indeed, Black Panther showed me what had happened before I even had the slightest inkling anything was wrong. (Yet another story.)

Other Details

Another detail that jumped out at me when I looked at this card, beyond the verdant abundance, was the Toucan. It just so happens that the Toucan is intimately related to a Being with whom I interact in the Lower World (Uhupacha), especially when journeying on behalf of clients (as opposed to journeying for myself).

Of course, the myriad (ten, to be exact) Frogs depicted in the card immediately brought to mind my harping on the need to clean out and make space for the next phase in my life. This theme has persistently demanded my attention.

Without even opening the book, my overall sense of the foundation of the message being brought to me was that whatever that Ace of Air is suggesting is my ‘next’ devotion or Act of Power, it may also bring an abundance of flourishing energy and magic.

And then I looked it up in the book that accompanies the deck. The keyword was not what I expected – but it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Patience Personified (or Catified)-Brutus loving Tigger – Photo: L. Weikel

*affiliate link

(T-21)

Swamp Bucket – Day 1036

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Puddle Resident – Photo: L. Weikel

Swamp Bucket

Camouflage in the Swamp Bucket – Photo: L. Weikel

I walk past this little pond every time I do my ‘walk-about,’ which is the longer version of my more frequent ‘walk-around.’ The walk-about is almost, but not quite, twice as long as my walk-around and it contains a hill of a not insignificant grade. (If you haven’t walked it in a while, it can kick your behind.) The last handful of times I’ve walked past this marshy little swamp bucket, though, I’ve felt a compulsion to stop and just take in the entire milieu. Something was there; I could feel it.

The feeling literally stopped me in my tracks. Something was present. There was some sort of creature waiting for me, either hiding in the tall native grasses surrounding the pool of water or poised on the edge, in the mud, or swimming in the water itself. In order to seize upon the element of surprise, the last few times I came upon it, I consciously slowed my pace and distracted Spartacus so he was actually walking along the other side of the road.

Nope. In spite of my spidey-sense urging me to pay attention, not even a frog hopped into the water, which was surprising. At least three or four frogs managed to screech in surprise and plop into the water all along the rest of my circuit, including right outside our front door. That’s three or four per pool of creek water. Even a few puddles are charging rent now; the recent rains have produced a bumper crop of frogs.

Pay Dirt

Aah. But today my patience was rewarded.

Yes, I did still sense I might catch a creature unawares if I were stealthy enough, but what was the use? With that attitude, I almost missed it. But something tickled my brain and told me to stop once again; to drink in the entire ecosystem.

There she waits – Photo: L. Weikel

Wow. Well, the puzzle is solved. No wonder there are no frogs jumping into this particular pond. No wonder indeed.

Do you see her?

Of course, I have no idea whether she’s a she or a he, but I’m choosing to assign her my own gender, if for no other reason than I admire her skills of camouflage and stealth, her uncanny patience. The depth of instinct she embodies is profound and a little bit unnerving.

On some level, though, I’ve been sensing her presence. Finally laying eyes on her feels cool. And intimate.

And beyond that? An encouragement to trust my instincts. To know that when I sense something, I need to respect myself enough to trust that inner knowing. While I may not be able to put my finger on it right away, if I follow up and pay attention, who knows what I might discover?

(T-75)

First Total Lunar Eclipse of 2021 – Day 925

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DO IT – Photo: L. Weikel

First Total Lunar Eclipse of 2021

If you’re on social media of any stripe, you’ve undoubtedly heard that Wednesday morning the first total lunar eclipse of 2021 will take place. Earth will pass directly between the sun and the full moon, engulfing the moon in Earth’s shadow. Not only will this blot out the moon’s natural brilliance (as a consequence of it being full) but the shadow will also make the moon appear a deep shade of red – an occurrence that must’ve totally freaked out our ancestors.

I see that I’ve written about our experience of lunar eclipses before (here, here, and here, to be precise) with other mentions scattered throughout the past 924 posts as well. And I notice that the most recent two times did actually presage some, let’s say, revelation of hidden agendas and ultimately ‘upheaval.’

While there are a plethora of interpretations of the significance of us entering the eclipse season, here’s a link to astrologer Chani’s interpretation for the present one. I speak of the eclipse ‘season’ because there will be a solar eclipse in two weeks. And we generally ‘feel the effects’ of these interactions between the luminaries beginning the week before the actual eclipse event and extending through the week following the second eclipse.

I’d Rather Not Look – Photo: L. Weikel

Frog Making a Point

Karl and I had to laugh this morning when we picked our cards on the day. He chose ‘Frog Squared’ (meaning he chose Frog and there was a blank card on the bottom of the deck). We interpret that probably just as you imagine: not just as Frog, but as FROG. As in, “Buddy, you better clean the clutter out of your life.”

It was even more obvious that we are both in tune with this upcoming eclipse when I chose my cards on the day and got Frog – with Wild Boar underneath. Oh man.

Frog, just in case you’ve forgotten, has a lot to do with cleansing and cleaning out. This can be on any level – from clearing out your physical space, cleaning out your body, clearing your thoughts or emotions. It’s an encouragement to rid yourself of any ‘person, place, or thing’ that doesn’t contribute to your state of wellbeing.

Wild Boar Adds Its 2 Cents

And Wild Boar? Well – suffice it to say, Wild Boar urges one to relentlessly cut through one’s bullshit. I heard it snarking at me all day, to be honest, as I took to heart the need to set upon clearing out. (Yet again; yes, I know, I feel like I am forced to tediously face this beast too freaking often.)

But there it was, in our faces. The message of a lunar eclipse, and especially a total one, is to clear out the stuff that surfaces in our life. There seems to be detritus floating to the top (of our consciousness) all the time. It only looks like physical piles of stuff we’ve been accumulating.

I made a point of working on heeding this advice today. And no matter what card I choose tomorrow, I intend to have another go at it again. I’m feeling the need. And I want to seize this opportunity to clear the portal to a new attitude and some exciting opportunities.

(T-186)

Strange Discovery – Day 397

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Frog in Palm – Photo: L. Weikel

Strange Discovery

Even thought it’s raw outside right now, it’s raining, so I know it’s still above freezing. That wasn’t the case the other day, when I went to my office and made a most peculiar discovery. No, the temperatures were definitely frigid that afternoon. The inch or so of snow that had fallen the night before and into the morning was showing no signs of melting.

I pulled my car into my office parking lot and backed up so I was close to the rear entrance. (Yes, in case you’re wondering, the Grey Ghost, aka Good Girl, is still my faithful steed.) I flung my door open and stepped one foot onto the black macadam. Just as I started to take a step with my other foot, I noticed a small stone roughly the size of a half dollar right in my path.

I’m always looking at stones, appreciating them for their beauty or distinct features, and this one made me do a double take. It was mottled, possibly sporting some lichen or something, judging from its coloring. Yet it was strangely symmetrical.

I bent down to pick it up and realized some of the markings resembled little feet tucked up to a cream colored belly. Gingerly, I picked it up and immediately knew – this was no stone.

Frozen Nugget

I was utterly dismayed to realize my discovery was no stone. It was a small frog. And it was frozen – frozen in a perfectly serene, nearly zen-like pose of tranquility.

When I picked it up, honestly, it felt as if I were holding an ice cube in my palm. All the while, I’m talking to it (as I am wont to do), telling it how glad I was that I hadn’t backed the car over it and squished it, or worse yet, stepped on it. Meanwhile, my mind was flipping through it its internal catalogue of random amphibian facts.

Hibernation

I’ll admit it; I seemed to recall that frogs hibernate in mud at the bottom of ponds and such, which made me wonder if they sometimes freeze, and then ultimately reanimate, essentially, when their bodies warm up. I supposed I could’ve looked it up, but I had work to do. So I brought the little guy with me, hoping I might thaw him out. I figured I could set him up with his own pad (couldn’t resist) and nurture him through the winter.

I felt like it was a possibility. Its skin was very supple. It didn’t feel at all as if the creature was dead, other than the fact that, underneath that soft, responsive skin felt like a little ice cube.

I took him into my office, set him down carefully while I did my errands, and brought him back outside with me. I wanted to hold him with both hands and really pump some energy and warmth back into his little body. So I brought him home and did just that. I even held my hands close to the fireplace in our living room.

Frozen Frog Smiling – Photo: L. Weikel

Unrequited Effort

Sadly, I have no miracle to report. But I did managed to snag some pretty odd photos.

It wasn’t until I embraced the realization that no matter how much gentle heat I tried to radiate into him, nothing was going to bring him back, that I actually took a long hard look at him.

He was smiling. And his legs were tucked up underneath his body just perfectly. Everything about this little creature embodied complete surrender; certainly, no struggle or fear.

I kept him in the house for another hour or so, just in case he was thawing so gradually that, well, I don’t know. He might still spring forth revivified. When I realized for sure that he was dead, I started to take him out to the small patch of woods to a tree with a beautiful spot at its base where I take all creatures that may die around us: mice, birds, what have you.

Kin

And that’s when I remembered the large toad sculpture (with a smaller one on its back) that I have permanently guarding one of our maple trees. I placed the little guy on the back of the smaller frog (or toad – whatever), and it looked like a perfect resting place. It looks like it found its kin.

The whole experience and discovery was odd. But again, as I told him, I’m glad he wasn’t squished unceremoniously in my office parking lot. And I’m glad he shared his beauty with me. Yet I am puzzled by the perfection of his death and the truly bizarre place I found him. I can’t help but wonder how he ended up in that spot, in that position, frozen.

And that smile…wow.

Found his kin – Photo: L. Weikel

 

(T-714)

Solitude’s Companions – Day 296

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Water snake – Photo: L. Weikel

Solitude’s Companions       

If you read my post from last night, you know that I spent many consecutive hours yesterday immersed in a captivating novel that uniquely weaves together the lives of trees and humans. Naturally, given my love affair with nature and Pachamama (a Quechua word for Mother Earth – and more), I’m loving it.

It is no wonder the book, The Overstory, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize. It’s an amazing feat of complex storytelling – and I’m saying this while remaining extremely aware of the fact that I’m only half way through it.

What you didn’t know is that I was thwarted in my desired illustration of the post by a 13 hour delay in my photos being ‘sent’ via email from my iPhone and their arrival to my laptop. (I know. Old news. I can’t figure out why sometimes they come through immediately and other times it takes them a day to make the trip.)

But arrive they did, just after noon today. Finally.

Far From Alone

I guess I should be grateful. The delay gave me the opportunity to harvest two posts out of one luscious, Labor Day afternoon spent perched in the middle of Tohickon Creek.

Because while I spent the afternoon in delectable solitude, I was far from alone.

Of course, there was and is the relentless movement of the creek itself. She is alive. Her waters flow around boulders and under tree limbs and through sluices of haphazardly strewn rocks and fallen branches, each maneuver amplifying or quelling her contribution to our conversation.

Her voice has the ability to reassure and center me in a way that keeps me in a swirled state of awe and gratitude. Day after day. No matter how many times I visit her, or at which point in her winding, ox-bowed, seemingly meandering journey to the Delaware River I approach her, she somehow manages to speak directly to my soul. Sometimes I go to her knowing she will wash away my very human concerns, and other times, inexplicably, I resist entering her presence. Perhaps I’m embarrassed; maybe I feel unworthy.

Beyond Her Presence

But beyond the undeniable presence of the Spirit of the Tohickon itself, there’s never been a visit to her shores that I’ve not been greeted by at least one and usually a myriad of other beings.

Yesterday was no exception. Nor was today. Nor, for that matter, was a day last week.

Last Thursday, an osprey made sure I noticed it flying upstream by calling out to me just as it passed overhead. I thought it a bit odd that it called out at that moment, but wrote it off to good luck on my part. The encounter felt a bit more like a determined bid for my attention when the bird did exactly the same thing on its way back downstream, about 20 minutes later.

I’m sure it would be no surprise if I told you that the appearance of Osprey held astonishing significance to me and reinforced a message I’ve been receiving for, well – one could argue at least six months. In fact, I’m almost ashamed to admit that until Osprey showed up last week, I’d actually forgotten the initial onslaught of pointed messages I’d received back in March, although I had noticed and heeded other cameos in recent weeks.

Yesterday’s Companions

So while I descended into the ‘understory’ of The Overstory, I nevertheless maintained a slightly heightened awareness of my peripheral vision. A number of times I sensed creatures around me, riding the currents, slipping around boulders, but didn’t see much other than the occasional little feeder fish or water spiders skimming the surface like speed skaters.

As quickly as that, a head popped out of the water, its red tongue tasting the air. The currents buffeted its slight body and made it waver as it held its head up. I said hello and asked if I could take its photo. It answered in the affirmative, as you can see from above.

I couldn’t zoom in as closely as I would’ve liked, but my sense was that it was a water snake. A youngster, I was pretty sure, as I’ve seen them grown to much (much) larger dimensions than this little guy. I was pleased ‘serpent’ had decided to pop in and say hi.

Last Night

Later, as I sat by the fire and continued my immersion into my book, my peripheral vision again kicked in – despite the competing bids for the attention of my rods and cones. (The firelight flickered and danced, yet I was also focusing the laser-like beam of my phone’s flashlight onto the pages to read into the night.)

Surprised, I trained my phone’s tractor beam to my right. Just outside the stones stacked neatly to create a firepit sat this wonderful toad. We had quite the conversation, as it was not in the least afraid of me, and I felt its presence acutely. I wondered if it was a little chilly, since it seemed determined to explore the spaces between the firepit stones, which must’ve felt warm and toasty.

Fire Buddy – Photo: L. Weikel

Shortly after my little friend made its way wherever, I decided it was time to find my way home as well. It was quite a day of amphibian love yesterday – enhancing my solitude, by letting me know I wasn’t really alone at all.

(T-815)