Hurricane Ida

Road Closed – Day 1027

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Near Stover Mill – Photo: L. Weikel

Road Closed

I managed to get to my usual spot on the Tohickon today. I’d been precluded yesterday by a “road closed” sign, which I’d assumed was erected because water continued to overflow the creek’s banks making the cartway impassable.

Apparently that was not technically the case.

Well, I suppose that could’ve been true yesterday; certainly from what I found at the spot where I usually sit and write. But there was more to the story.

Uprooted – Photo: L. Weikel

Unstoppable

There’s something deceptive about the nature of water. It seems so pliant somehow. You know: it flows and goes aroundthings. But you know what? Water is incredibly powerful and persistent. Yeah; it may choose to go around things if given the opportunity. It’ll yield.

But block it entirely? Stand in its way? All bets are off. It will get where it is going. It can be relentless and unmerciful in its determination to proceed toward its destination.

As you can guess, it was that unrelenting determination that created the situation causing the ‘road closed’ sign to remain in the middle of the road today. (Yes, I went around the sign. Carefully.) The fact that I saw a local pickup approach me from the other way indicated I’d probably be able to get through.

I’ll admit, though. I was shocked that my sweet, sweet Tohickon had ripped up the road’s macadam and hurled the massive chunks into the guardrails. But there it was.

Detritus Measurer – Photo: L.Weikel

Astoundingly Deep

I navigated the crater and got myself to the place beside the creek where I most often sit. I drove very slowly along the road that  parallels the Tohickon. The roadbed was mud covered and littered with piles of small stones and larger rocks. Massive branches of trees and actual logs were strewn haphazardly on both sides of the swollen, still-raging tributary.

Across the road from the creek, dead fish dangled from limbs of uprooted trees that hadn’t been there before the storm.

It took me a moment to realize just how much the Tohickon had risen in the storm and its aftermath. But there it was, beside the uprooted bushes. A leafless skeleton of a tree stood like a sentinel beside the roiling water. Flood detritus (leaves, grasses, and some trash) continued to cling to this pole, leaving evidence not only of how swiftly it had been carried but also how high the water had reached.

I felt my stomach lurch. The evidence reached well over 7’ above the creek’s current surface. I stood in front of the tree for comparison. It was hard to comprehend both how much water had to have been barreling through where I stood and how quickly it had come and gone. For some reason, it seemed especially difficult to convey with my photos just how astoundingly deep, wide (and wild) my creek had become during the storm.

But there was the proof.

Do not underestimate the relentless power of water.

Hard to imagine – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-84)

Filled to the Brim – Day 1026

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Aqueduct in Point Pleasant, PA 2 Sept 2021 – Photo: L. Weikel

Filled to the Brim

No matter where you look, it seems we’re filled to the brim. Our creeks and rivers are overflowing with water. Our forests are filled with the hot fury of fire. Our hearts are filled with shock, rage, fear, and hopefully, equal or greater measures of love, compassion, and hope.

I don’t have a lot to say tonight.

I’m always amazed at the brilliance of the blue skies the morning after a storm of great fury, be it a blizzard or a hurricane. Your average, run-of-the-mill snowstorm or rain event can come and go and the next day the skies may retain their cranky gray visage. But not following a storm of great consequence.

Just like a mother who has bitten her tongue one too many times, Mother Nature occasionally unleashes the accumulation of atmospheric energy and clears the decks. She withholds nothing. She lets us have it. And then, forgiving and forward-looking, she lets it all go and moves on. The sparkling clarity left behind is her gift to us.

A reminder that no matter how dark and furious things can get, the sun does come out again. The skies do clear. The air once again becomes breathable and invigorating.

Tohickon Creek at Point Pleasant – Photo: L. Weikel

Around Us

I only ventured out a few miles from our home today. So many roads were – and remain – closed. I’ve yet to get a glimpse of the Lenape Sipu (Delaware River). But I did manage to sneak a peak at where my beloved Tohickon Creek flows into the Delaware in Point Pleasant.

It looks like the power of the Tohickon pulled some boards off the aqueduct that crosses over it just before the creek merges with the river. Just standing on the bridge to take the photo, I could feel the power of the churning waters below me.

As can be seen below, water simply cascading down the hill without a discernible path to follow pounded the roadway so relentlessly that it caused it to buckle.

River Road, Point Pleasant, PA – Photo: L. Weikel

Carrying On

It’s shocking to consider that we were only hit with the ‘remnants’ of Hurricane Ida. My mind reels at the plight of those who were scathed by nature’s fury not only here – in devastating loss of life and home – but even more so in Louisiana, Mississippi, and elsewhere down south. I cannot imagine enduring temperatures where the heat index is reaching 107 during the day and yet there remains no running water, no electricity (and therefore no air conditioning), no lights at night, and little hope of anything being restored anytime soon.

How does one carry on in that situation? Blue skies surely can’t be enough. Or maybe they can be. When we’ve lost everything, maybe blue skies – and the intangible hope they reflexively bring us – are precisely what our souls require.

Tangle of wildflowers & white butterflies – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-85)

Take Shelter – Day 1025

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Before the tornado warnings – Photo: L. Weikel

Take Shelter

Well. I’m not sure where to start this evening. At the moment, the small, barely noticeable creek across the road from my house sounds like a roiling cataract. Sirens plaintively called out a couple of times tonight – a worrisome sound any time (especially when one lives out in the country). But they sounded especially lonely and dire as our cell phones simultaneously bleated out tornado warnings – entreating us to take shelter below ground, if possible.

I’m sorry. Where do we live? Last I looked, it was amidst the farms, fields, and woodlands of Pennsylvania. Not Kansas or Oklahoma. Yet here we are. From what I can tell, it sounds like there may have been two or three tornadoes touching down in our area earlier tonight.

Here’s a snippet of an astonishing video of a tornado winding its way up the Pennsylvania side of the Delaware River just tonight. Is it because we usually see videos of tornadoes touching down and moving along vast acres of flat land that we have a distorted sense of how fast these beasts actually move? Watching that video feels unnatural.

Quite honestly, it feels like everything – not just the weather – is totally askew and out of balance.

Photo: L. Weikel

Speaking of Catastrophic Events

In addition to my profound concern over everyone who is impacted by the torrential rains, the terrifying and devastating tornadic activity, and the current and impending flooding that will only get worse over the next few days, there’s…Texas.

Honest to goodness, the complete disregard of the Constitutional rights of women in Texas makes me want to throw up. Inelegant, I’m the first to admit. But the unbelievable cruelty of empowering vigilante-citizens to essentially hunt women for a $10,000 bounty is insane. Add to that the American Taliban’s* determination that anyone aiding any woman who may be seeking an abortion beyond six weeks gestation can also be sued?

It is no wonder we needed to withdraw from Afghanistan. Good grief. We have our very own American brand of dehumanizing and debasing women, thank you very much. Perhaps we should mind our own ability to treat women as sovereign citizens with equal rights before we preach it anywhere else.

Not a creek, not a stream – Photo: L. Weikel

Crumbling Foundations

Remember how I’ve commented a number of times in the blogs of 2021 that this year is all about navigating the astrological phenomenon of ‘Saturn squaring Uranus?’ The old paradigms being shattered by sudden blows to their foundations? Unexpected transformations of traditional ways of being and ‘the way things have always been done?’

Well here we are. We are receiving absolute clarity on two major issues facing our country and the world:

Climate change is real.  And oppression and subjugation of women is an agenda paramount to the (not my father’s) Republican party.

The time is now to save ourselves. And it’s stunningly clear (if not a sad commentary on what we all knew if we’ve been paying attention) – we cannot rely on the Supreme Court of the United States to enforce the rights of women.

Think about the ramifications of that statement.

If we don’t take action now to defend what we know is right and true, more than the foundations of our homes will be swept away.

*affiliate link

(T-86)

A Sports Metaphor – Day 1024

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Falcon on my walk today – Photo: L. Weikel

A Sports Metaphor

Happy 1st day of September! I find it a bit unsettling to realize that 2021 is in the last inning of the third quarter. (How’s that for a mixed sports metaphor!?) It’s almost sort-of accurate – and besides, you know what I mean.

I did in fact get a chance to take a walk this evening, while simultaneously getting in some last-day-of-the-compliance-period CLE credits. I have to admit, this was one of the more enjoyable legal seminars I’ve ever attended, at least with respect to the milieu.

Last night I was concerned that the remnants of Hurricane Ida might arrive here early enough to preclude me from walking this evening. Luckily for me, ‘she’ held off. But her torrential rains are expected to arrive within the next several hours.

Obviously, there’s no chance our area will sustain anywhere near an impact even remotely as catastrophic as parts of Louisiana and Mississippi are experiencing. And I’m not trying to draw an analogy to that devastation. But our area is already saturated, so the forecast of possibly 6” of rain falling in a short period of time is not insignificant.

Biodiversity Process

Just thinking about the flooding that will inevitably occur in our area tomorrow, as well as the plight of millions of households and businesses in Louisiana and Mississippi (and elsewhere) due to Hurricane Ida, and the most recent wildfire threat to the Lake Tahoe area (the Caldor fire), I’m reminded of one simple thing we all can do.

I’ve written about it before – lots of times, in fact. It’s the Perelandra EoP Biodiversity Process. I first described the Process here, just over two years ago. Hopefully a few of you are joining me in spending five minutes on the first day of each month engaging in this very simple process. The experience of working directly with the nature spirits of your land with the explicit intention of countering the effects of climate change and restoring balance is remarkable. (And by ‘land’ I mean the land for which you are responsible – either owning or renting – which can even be an apartment in the middle of a city.)

The best and most sincere endorsement I can give is from my own experience. I can feel the response of the Beings with whom we share this land. Not only can I sense a greater overall harmony since beginning this process two years ago, I also see it in the abundant fertility and coherence of the trees, grasses, wildflowers, birds of all sorts, insects of many persuasions, and animals that either live here or pass through routinely.

Giving Back

I’d like to think that my five minutes of devoted attention and intention contribute to the overall strengthening of the biodiversity on our planet. And even better? I love the opportunity it gives me to give back to Mother Earth for the cherished gifts she gives me – and all of us – every day.

If you don’t have your Essence of Perelandra (EoP) to engage in the process this month, I urge you to buy a bottle today so you’re ready on October 1st. Stay safe everyone. And balanced.

(T-87)

Opportunity – Day 1022

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Shark – Opportunity – The Ocean Oracle by Susan Marte

Opportunity

The cards I drew last night for us as a collective yielded Jellyfish – Hidden Gifts as the primary with Shark – Opportunity as the foundation card.

I’m still pondering the perfection of the Jellyfish card’s message in light of the swirling miasma of events we’re witnessing in the world around us. And yeah…lucky are we if we are, in fact, only ‘witnessing’ any or all of it. Because to be experiencing any of the horror firsthand must feel like your entire world is being ripped out from under you.

It doesn’t matter where we look, in what direction, toward which catastrophe, or in which country, there just seems to be a cascade of awfulness. So the fact that the cards that presented themselves were Hidden Gifts and Opportunity begs reflection.

Conundrum

The whole little vignette relayed by Shark in The Ocean Oracle (set out below) has a vaguely familiar feel to it. Perhaps you’ll recognize in it another story that’s often mentioned when people feel forsaken. And it’s probably safe to say that there are thousands (if not millions) of people who feel forsaken right about now.

And just like last night’s message about Hidden Gifts, neither the Opportunity nor the Hidden Gifts are necessarily obvious as such. In fact, it’s likely they’re not. Who could possibly think that any of the extreme circumstances we’re facing in our country and world today could be considered either gifts or opportunities? And yet…

Shark’s Message

“Shark – OPPORTUNITY

The Story

Once upon a time in the watery depths of a great ocean long ago forgotten, there lived a community of sea creatures. They lived together in peaceful harmony. Their community was abundant and prosperous and provided for all of their needs. One day a neighboring shark came by, telling them of an opportunity that would enhance their lives even more. Since the community could not fathom what else they may need, they let the opportunity pass them by. The shark swam away. Time passed and the community started to hear about other communities, who had taken a chance with the opportunities the shark offered them, and how their communities had become even more abundant and prosperous.

The shark came again to the community, and again offered them an opportunity to enhance their lives. They were hesitant. They knew what they had and they were happy. Could there really be more out there? When the shark came for the third time the community decided to take the opportunity presented to them, this time not letting their fear stop them. Although at first it was scary and there was some hesitation, when the community whole-heartedly embraced the opportunity, they found their community grew and expanded in ways they never dreamed possible.

The Messages

Is opportunity knocking? Be aware it does not knock forever. If you do not take the opportunity it could pass you by. Is this an acceptable option? This card could be a reminder that there are opportunities and you need to grab hold and shape what comes your way and make it yours and make what you will of it. Opportunities may or may not be straight forward. They may be in the murky depths. They may come at dawn or dusk or be just out of vision or tangible reach. Opportunities abound. Take the fullness of the possibility and open up to the potential it holds.”

My Take

While some of us may be lucky enough at this moment in time to be witnessing as opposed to directly experiencing the ravages of Covid or Hurricane Ida or the terror of trying to escape Afghanistan or wildfires or earthquakes, it’s only a matter of time before we all get a taste of direct experience. If nothing else, we all live on and share Mother Earth. Climate change, like a virus, is blind to any of the superficial reasons we may tell ourselves that ‘it can’t happen to us.’

But there are hidden gifts in these tragedies. There are immediate lessons we can learn in each moment. And there are opportunities that demand to be explored and embraced if we – the community of humanity – are to thrive. But we must open our eyes without delay.

(T-89)