Karl

November – Day 1096

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 6 Comments
Us – July 2010

November

This is always a tough time of year. Actually, most of the month of November is a challenge. Starting about a week before the 11th, I begin framing everything in my life around that day. (This day. Today.)  I see 11/11 ahead on the calendar and I want to look away. I want it to mean something different than it does. But of course it can’t. It never will again.

This year, I’ve sort of been in an in-between place. It’s been ten years. Karl’s been gone for ten years – and actually, I haven’t seen or put my arms around my son in just under 11 years. He left for the West Coast in January of ’11 and never made it home again.

But even though today marks a full decade of missing him, I’d grown a bit detached – perhaps a smidgen one might call ‘spiritually aloof’ – over the past several months. Make that the past two years or so.

The Beginning of the Quiet

Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s all starting to make sense. Since he died, my main mode of receiving communications from Karl has been through the music on my iPod (and now my iPhone), which I would most often listen to as I drove in the car. Since the pandemic hit, I’ve hardly driven anywhere. As a result, I’ve barely listened to any music in the past two years. (Yes, this realization is appalling to me as well.)

While music (and especially the lyrics) of songs is his most effective means of communicating more complex messages, I am cognizant of the occasional hints he drops that he’s ‘around’ – or at least checking in. Some of those I’ve even written about. I guess, though, in the chaos of Covid and everything else that’s been unfolding in our lives, I just felt a distance growing between us. I assumed it was probably natural, that he was busy moving on with his own evolution.

Lately, though, the dearth of communications from him has left me feeling wistful and sad. It starting to hit me just how long he’s been gone. I think the impending end of my 1111 Devotion is also weighing on me. This Act of Power in his memory is coming to a close. Is it a metaphor for something bigger?

Recent Increases

Over the past two days, I was seeing so many license plates with his initials or even his name (for instance, “KRL 1234”), I actually talked to him out loud. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but you have my attention. I see the initials. I see the signs. But I’m starting to feel like it’s just because I want to see them. Our area issued a bunch of license plates with your initials. Big  deal. I used to see magic, but I’m starting to think maybe I’ve just been acting dumb.”

Yeah. I went there.

I was feeling sad. And losing my sense of wonder. And yet I still maintained a grateful heart – for if that’s the extent of the messages I was going to receive anymore, at least I was receiving them.

Salmon Speaking

I ran over to Whole Foods today to pick up some salmon for our dinner this evening. We’ve barely eaten any fish since we watched the documentary about over-fishing. But this is a hard week for us, and I thought both Karl and I could use some Omega-3s to lighten our outlook.

As I was driving home this afternoon, I had a very clear and strong urge to listen to my music on shuffle again. No podcasts. No radio. “I need to listen to my music.” I’ll admit, I hoped for but honestly doubted whether anything ‘special’ would come up for me.

The Voice

The very first song that played on ‘shuffle’ was The Voice by The Moody Blues. I do not know why, but as soon as I heard their voices and listened to the lyrics, tears started streaming down my cheeks and all I could think or say was how much I miss my Karl. It was the weirdest thing: like a button had been pushed that immediately triggered a doorway to the pain in my heart that I live with and try not to dwell upon.

For my own special reasons (due to context and history), I heard in the lyrics some statements I sensed Karl was making to me about trust and moving forward with new projects and ideas. I felt like he was offering commentary on a number of things I’d said out loud to him while out doing errands, driving alone in the car, over the past several days.

I will admit that even then – even after bursting into unexpected, unbidden sobs – I actually said out loud that this was pretty well orchestrated, Karl, but who was I kidding? I was probably only hearing what I wanted to hear. After all, today was the 10th  anniversary of your death. Of course I’d like to hear from you today. (I’m actually a lot more skeptical about receiving signs and messages than a lot of people assume. Sometimes I make Spirit – and my ancestors and allies – jump through hoops before I’ll believe they’re really giving me a message.)

Tonight’s Wagon

So it was especially fascinating tonight during the Wagon when one of the participants reported that she’d met Karl for the first time. Tonight. In her journey. Now, for some context, when Karl comes through to other people, he almost always brings messages specifically for his father.

That wasn’t the case tonight, though. He asked her to tell me, among other things, that I need to “let go of the past and focus on creating the future.” And I’m supposed to “BELIEVE.”

I had to smile at that last comment. To me, it was very obviously a direct response to the cynical commentary I’d made out loud in the car earlier in the day – in spite of my visceral reaction to the music.

I guess our work together has yet to conclude. I miss you, Karl. But I’m glad you’re so persistent and willing to insist that I move forward with our collaboration.

Having fun – Miss you

The Voice – by the Moody Blues

Won’t you take me back to school?
I need to learn the golden rule.
Won’t you lay it on the line?
I need to hear it just one more time.

Oh, won’t you tell me again?
Oh, can you feel it?
Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?

Each and every heart it seems,
Is bounded by a world of dreams.
Each and every rising sun,
Is greeted by a lonely one.

Oh, won’t you tell me again?
Oh, can you feel it?
Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?

Cause out on the ocean of life my love.
There a so many storms we must rise above.
Can you hear the spirit calling, as it’s carried across the waves?
You’re already falling it’s calling you back to face the music.
And the song that is coming through.
You’re already falling the one that it’s calling is you

My a promise take a vow.
And trust your feelings it easy now.
Understand The Voice within.
And feel a change already beginning.

Oh, won’t you tell me again?
Oh, can you feel it?
Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight? Tonight?

Oh, won’t you tell me again?
Oh, can you feel it?
Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?

And how many words have I got to say?
And how many times will it be this way?
With your arms around the future and your back up against the past.
You’re already falling it’s calling you on to face the music.
And the song that is coming through.
You’re already falling the one that it’s calling is you

Each and every heart it seems,
Is bounded by a world of dreams.
Each and every rising sun,
Is greeted by, a lonely, lonely one.

Won’t you tell me again?
Oh, can you feel it?
Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?

Won’t you tell me again?
Oh, can you feel it?
Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?
Tonight

Oh, can you feel it?
Oh, won’t you tell me again tonight?

Source: Musixmatch

Songwriters: Hayward Justin

The Voice lyrics © Universal Music Corp., Pw Arrangements

One Final Weird Thing

It turns out that the drummer for the Moody Blues, Graeme Edge, passed away today, 11/11/21. End of an era.

(T-15)

Consecration – Day 1091

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Photo: L. Weikel

Consecration

Consecrate: verb (used with object) 1. to make or declare sacred; set apart or dedicate to the service of a deity. 2. to make (something) an object of honor or veneration; hallow. 3. to devote or dedicate to some purpose. (Dictionary.com)

As you may recall from last night’s post, while I chose the Ace of Air as my primary card, the 10 of Water was clearly a player in delivering the message. Considering that I was posing the question of “What’s next?” in the context of the impending conclusion of my 1111 Devotion and the sacred intention with which I began this process almost three years ago, I was surprised by the keyword of the 10 of Water: consecration.

Whether I ‘get’ the crux of that message tonight or in two weeks – or maybe even two years from now – what I find amazing is that the cards seem to realize the essence of my query.

The cards know that, fundamentally, this is all about making the ordinary sacred. It’s all about lighting upon an act that I might consecrate in memory of my Karl. Choosing to engage in an action which might ordinarily be viewed as routine and making it holy; making it sacred and meaningful in a way that transcends ordinary day-to-day consciousness. This is my quest.

Underneath My Ace

As I described in yesterday’s post, a few pretty salient details jumped out at me as I contemplated the illustration of the 10 of Water as depicted by the illustrator of the Witches’ Wisdom Tarot*, Danielle Barlow. There were a number of powerful symbols that had personal meaning to me and the pursuit of my spiritual path.

But again, sometimes the magic of perceiving a message being sent to us by Spirit, or even ‘just’ our own subconscious, or Higher Self, or soul is enhanced by considering all the opportunities provided us to ‘get the message.’ And that includes not only relying heavily – and primarily – on our own intuition and insight, but also availing ourselves of the nuances that lurk in the words or symbols proffered by others. For instance, the particular words and phrases used by the creator of the deck or other oracle we might be using.

10 of Water – The Witches’ Wisdom Tarot by Phyllis Curott, Illustrated by Danielle Barlow

My next step, therefore, was to consider and pay acute attention to these words:

“10 of Water – Consecration

Wisdom – Verdant, humid, and embracing, the rainforest grows. Tree and Vine, Butterfly and bright-beaked Toucan, tiny Tree Frog and fearsome, holy Jaguar peer through the leaves. Rain pours from above, pools on the ground below, seeps deep into the Earth, and rises to make everything grow. The rain is full of music – songs telling stories of this magical place that makes the world better for all of Life. The rainforest is wild and full of wonder, danger and divinity, chaos and perfection. There is Life and there is death, but there is no evil. It’s raining and everything is blessed.

Essence – Wonderment, flourishing, blessings. The rewards of feeling fully. Water of Life.

Counsel – What is the song your heart is secretly singing? What is the divine magic hiding within you? There’s no reason for self-doubts or fear. Step outside your comfort zone and into the magic of Creation. No matter how turbulent the Waters of Life may be, how hard the rain, muddy the river, or unknown the rainforest, remember, you’re made of Water, and Water makes all things grow and flourish.

Magic – Go out in the rain. Listen. What’s it saying to you? Reach out your arms and feel the Water on your skin. Stick out your tongue and drink it in. Wash your face with it. Let it bless you. Feel your heart open to all that is manifesting…”

My Interpretation

The word ‘listen’ comes up and is prominent in both cards. Abundance surrounds the question I’ve asked. Perhaps that means there are (or will be) an abundance of choices on what is the best next action for me to consecrate to my cherished son.

Again, I feel ‘patience’ is also a watchword that needs to be heeded. Yes, Spirit understands my desire to know ‘what’s next.’ But for now, my focus needs to remain on the 1111 Devotion. I must dedicate myself to successfully concluding my first Act of Power with impeccability. ‘What’s next,’ if anything, will reveal itself in perfect timing.

I will listen. And perhaps, if the stars line up just right, I’ll even open my mouth.

*affiliate link

(T-20)

He Shows Up – Day 1078

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He Shows Up – Photo: L. Weikel

He Shows Up

It’s hard to describe how much it means to me to have all my kids together at the same time. This weekend was one of those rare treats. Of course, no matter what, there’s always a hole in the fabric of any such gathering because Karl isn’t here. And while it’s not as if we act all maudlin and morose, there’s not a one among us who doesn’t think about him every day – but especially when we’re together. And then, miraculously – inevitably – he shows up.

The weather today lent itself especially to hanging out together and enjoying a fire. The creative juices were flowing and there was some serious pumpkin carving artistry taking place. Puppies reveled in the attention they were receiving from every direction.

Besides our conversations (which, to be honest, mostly centered on Pacha and Brutus), the crackling and popping voice of the fire was the primary sound track of our day.

Brutus & Pacha on a walk 24 Oct 2021 – Photo: L. Weikel

Did You Hear That?

Just as the afternoon was starting to grow some shadows, a couple of us perked up and shushed the others. “Did you hear that?” we asked together. It was the weirdest sound – a chirruping that did not sound familiar at all.

Movement down by the barn caught my eye and Sarah cried out, “It’s a raccoon! Look!”

Sure enough, a raccoon had just slipped into our barn. I barely made out the tip of its tail before it, too, disappeared into the dark innards of the deep red outbuilding. None of us were quick enough on the draw to snap a photo, but we all had to smile. “He had to make an appearance.”

The raccoon continued to make its plaintive cry, though. Only a minute or two later, it poked its head back out the barn door, then hopped out and scurried/waddled around the corner and past the compost pile. Oddly, it didn’t even hesitate at the pile. That usually has treats for all comers of one stripe or another.

Compelled to Follow

The appearance of this lovely, robust raccoon on a perfect fall day when ‘all of us’ are gathered together felt important. Significant.

Yes, we have raccoons that live around here. But it is rare to have them show up during daylight hours, calling a plaintive cry, and clearly on a mission. I felt compelled to follow it and see if I could see what it was doing and where it was headed.

Making sure the puppies were otherwise distracted, I headed out behind the barn. I meandered around the islands of wavy wild grass and the burial mounds of Sheila and Spartacus. I checked out the cherry tree Karl had nearly killed as a young kid.

And then I heard it. What a strange sound. Beyond the Weeping Willows and the eldest Sycamore tree, I heard a sound I can’t even write about phonetically. It was soft at first, and then I caught sight of the raccoon crossing the small creek at the back of our property. It was close – and it stopped and faced me as I realized we were going to encounter each other face-to-face.

It looked right at me and called out its plaintive cry. For the life of me, she sounded like a mommy, calling for her babies. Her coat was thick and beautiful, her eyes bright and her ears perky and aware. Her tail jerked expressively in time with her vocalizations.

Mommies and Babies

This raccoon spoke to me directly twice. It wasn’t afraid; it was demanding. On one level, I do believe it was looking for its babies. On another level it was serving as a messenger to tell me even my baby who’s no longer in a physical body is nevertheless here. Now. Reminding me – no, insisting that I acknowledge: when we need him most, he shows up.

And when I walked back up to the house, marveling at my mystical encounter? After looking at the video and live photos I’d taken (complete with audio), Tiffany gestured toward the pumpkin seed heart she’d found while I was behind the barn.

There are no coincidences. Messages surround us. As much as we miss Karl, I have no doubt he misses us as well and wants us to know: he’s with us in spirit.

Yeah, we love you too – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-33)

Eerie Synchronicity – Day 1052

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Spartacus & Sheila; Photo: L. Weikel

Eerie Synchronicity

The night we buried Spartacus, I wrote in my post that Cletus behaved exactly the same way at Spartacus’s burial as he had at Sheila’s. And for all his cranky bad-assery, it was poignant and moving to us humans that he so obviously (and identically) paid tribute to both of his canine siblings at their spiritual sendoffs. I mentioned that Tiffany also experienced an eerie synchronicity between the two funerals, but I would share the details in a separate post.

Karl’s Raccoon Card – Photo: L. Weikel

The Backdrop

In case you’re not aware of it, there’s a strong association our whole family shares that connects Karl (our son) and Raccoons. Indeed, Raccoon was definitely one of Karl’s power animals. As a result, after he died, I created ‘memorial’ cards (very similar to the Catholic ‘mass cards’ I grew up with) that feature a raccoon on one side and Karl’s photo and a poem from Medicine Cards on the other.

Never having met Karl in person, Tiffany is especially aware of the Karl-Raccoon connection.

Cute little guy – Photo: L.Weikel

Sheila’s With Me

The evening we had our burial ceremony for our sweet Sheila last year (at the end of September, as a matter of fact), Tiffany and M had attended a previously scheduled tour of Grounds for Sculpture that afternoon. When they arrived here at the house for the ceremony, Tiffany eagerly recounted an extraordinary encounter they’d had only an hour or two earlier.

While meandering through the Grounds for Sculpture, two raccoons walked right up to Tiffany. Literally, as if hailing an old friend. Enchanted, both because they were adorable in their own right but also because she was keenly aware of the Karl/Raccoon connection, she gestured for M to join her. My son, being a tad oblivious, made his way over to Tiffany but failed to notice them before they scampered away.

M and T continued meandering through the park. Tiffany, already feeling something magical was unfolding, soon realized that the raccoons were tracking them. As M and T made their way along the path, the two raccoons followed them in the woods next to the path for several hundred yards along the water. Every once in a while the creatures made themselves noticeably visible to M and T, almost as if to flag them down and say, “Hey! Look at us! Pay attention!”

Finally, M noticed them. It was as if their job was accomplished. Tiffany felt it was an unmistakable message from Karl that he and Sheila were reunited – and all was well. We all definitely concurred. No question about it; Karl and Sheila had enjoyed a special bond.

Spartacus Is Here Too

Following our ceremony for Spartacus last week, I received an excited text from Tiffany. On her way home – you guessed it – two raccoons had crossed in front of her car, stopping to glance pointedly in her direction. Yet again, it was a sign; Karl was assuring us that all was well and our beloved Spartacus had joined him (and Sheila) in the Spirit world.

What a delightful, if slightly eerie, synchronicity. Two raccoons making a point of being SEEN, in two different places (two different states, even!), and both times on the exact evening of us burying our beloved Boston Terriers – one year apart. Thank you, Karl. Thank you, Raccoon. And thank you, Tiffany, for paying attention and appreciating the magic!

As we are fond of saying in our family, YCMTSU.

 

(T-59)

What a Number – Day 999

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Stars Through the Forest – Photo: L. Weikel

What a Number

What a number I just typed into the title line, above. Could I really be writing my last three-digit post tonight?

Numerologically speaking, this feels like an ending, even if I’ve not yet arrived at my goal of 1111 consecutive posts. Nines are completion. Three nines, no matter how you look at them, sort of hammer home the concept of completion. Beyond the simple fact of three nines comprising the number, if you add the nines, 9+9+9 = 27 and then 2+7=9. No matter which way you look at 999, it reduces to a 9, and thus it represents a wrapping up, a conclusion, an end to something.

Not My 1111 Devotion

The number 999 may signify completion of something, on some level, but it does not mean I intend to quit my Act of Power before I reach my goal. No; there remain 112 posts to write, and I intend to write them, Goddess willing.

It represents the end of three-digit posts. That’s pretty lame.

Honestly, I don’t know what – if anything – reaching this number signifies, other than I’m plugging along, doing my thing, honoring my word.

Day after day (technically night after night), I blow a quick kiss to my eldest son when I hit ‘publish’ and whisper, “I miss you so damn much. I remember you every single day. And I do this one little thing each night because I said I would. Because I love you.”

And although it’s a little thing, sometimes that’s the best I can do.

Fire Sprite Rising – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-112)

Evidence – Day 889

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Evidence – Photo: L. Weikel

Evidence

I remember the night after we received the call about Karl’s death. Twenty four hours after we received the news, we were attending a cross-country track team banquet. We kept our loss quiet, the three of us pretty much navigating the festivities on auto-pilot. (Our middle son was making his way home from another state where he was working his first job.) Oddly that night remained in my memory – not because of the cross-country banquet – but because of the evidence we received of a truth much bigger than ourselves that night.

I distinctly remember walking out of the church basement where the meal had been served and feeling the overwhelming beauty of the sunset practically pound me on the chest. The reds, oranges, purples, and blues all seemed to wrap themselves around me in a literal embrace of love and knowing. I felt my son’s arms around me. He was there. He was more palpably close to us in that moment than he’d been a week earlier, when he was still in his body.

The photo I took of that powerful sunset was the background on my iPhone for years from that day forward. Evidence that Karl’s essence did not die with his body.

Tonight

I’m recalling that night tonight because another family I know is encountering a similar life-altering reality – an adult son lost in a car accident.

I don’t know the details, whether he died last night or this morning, but I know that tonight was the first full day of him being ripped from the fabric of their lives. I’d been thinking about his family all day, remembering the shock of trying to wrap my head around the fact that I would never see my eldest son alive again. It doesn’t compute. It takes a while. And it makes you feel nauseated every time you try.

As we walked this afternoon and crested our favorite hill for weather and astral observations, we could clearly see rain cascading from the clouds in the distance. It felt like a metaphor – my holding space for them from afar as the rain pelted down in their lives.

Photo: L. Weikel

But about an hour later, another moment arrived. A sign, a message, a small but potentially powerful indicator that, while the pain is exquisite and they may feel they’re drowning in their loss, his spirit shines on.

It’s in times like these, of sudden shock and great loss, that we owe it to those we’ve lost to take solace in their best efforts to send us signs of their continued existence – and undying love.

Yes, we yearn for signs when tragedy strikes. But who are we to deny those who’ve departed our respect for their best efforts to reach out, make contact, and comfort us?

(T-222)

Blown Away – Day 606

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Visible Breath of the Wind – Photo: L. Weikel

Blown Away

Karl and I took a walk early this evening and noticed that the clouds seemed particularly expressive. Not in the massive, billowy, rather threatening way the thunderheads have been of late. The clouds today were of a much more playful nature, some even bordering on the whimsical. And then…I was blown away.

I didn’t realize I was going to have such a reaction when I took the photo. In fact, there’s a reason I speak in the first-person singular, above, and that’s because Karl will only be seeing the photo that just blew me away when he reads this post tomorrow morning.

Fodder For the Blog

Karl’s gotten used to the fact that our walks are the saving grace of my 1111 devotion. (Yeah…remember that? Can you believe I’m at 606 with only 505 left to write?) Actually, it’s not so much our walks per se that are the inspiration for a lot of my posts. It’s the photos I take along the way. The photos capture the inspiration that Mother Earth and, to be fair, equally or even more often Father Sky, provide. They are the Creative Team that actually make my posts possible. But you knew that.

As a result, I’m always passing Spartacus’s leash to Karl to hold while I capture moments in my iPhone like fireflies in a jar. Only the photos are better since I don’t have to poke holes in the top of my iPhone and, better yet, the photos don’t end up belly up the next morning.

But they do sometimes yield surprises. There have been many photos that revealed faces or figures that I only saw long after I got home, that ended up inspiring posts.

Spiral – Photo: L. Weikel

Well, as I mentioned, tonight’s clouds seemed especially playful and light. Like this spiral: long and drawn out, stretching across the sky in a straight line – but most definitely a spiral. It’s fascinating to contemplate the winds aloft that created such a cloud.

The photo at the top of this post reminded me of breath made visible as it’s blown across the sky.

Chills

And then there’s this photo, below. Wow. I took it simply because the shapes looked weird to me. I walked into a field to capture the full effect because I didn’t want telephone wires in the foreground. Karl half grumbled that he’d have to do a ‘tick check’ on me because of my venture into the tall grass just to take a shot of more clouds.

But what’s particularly fascinating to me is that I did not actually ‘See’ what this photo now seems to broadcast so obviously. Maybe I’m tired and seeing what I want to see. It’s possible, I suppose. But the magic of this photo popped out at me tonight when I went to send it from my phone to my computer. It gave me chills when I saw it. And the magic turned into the subject of this post.

I was blown away – not unlike when the Easter egg ‘happened.’

See for yourself and make your own decision:

Karl Cloud – Photo: L. Weikel

 

 

Best Easter Egg Ever – Photo: L. Weikel

Thanks, Karl, my son. Love you. Miss you.

(T-505)

This Will Be Quick* – Day 270

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This Will Be Quick*

I’m sitting here on my bed in North Carolina, wistfully thinking about my husband. It’s now past midnight and that means it’s his birthday.

I don’t like being away from Karl on his birthday.

Some might argue that it’s just another ‘day in the life.’ But I like to make a big deal out of and celebrate the acquisition of another year of experience under our belts. It’s a measurement. A milestone.

Some years are harder to navigate than others. Some are so delicious that we never want them to end. Some slip by and feel as though they only just started, when we suddenly turn around and they’re over.

All I can say is, I’m grateful to have this man in my life. He’s my partner; my best friend.

We’ve grown together in ways I’m sure neither of us could have imagined when we met 42 years ago next month, not least being the magic we’ve encountered exploring the perspective on life I’m sharing with others this weekend at this Listening Retreat.

I’ll miss him at the retreat this weekend. He’s always been there to hold space with me, to sit across the circle and meet my gaze, to share a smile when I needed it most.

It’s important to me that he know how much I wish he was here. And how happy I am that he’s made it through another solar return.

Happy birthday, my love.

*Something only Bregma House people will really ‘get.’

(T-841)

Original Owl – Day 163

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“Original Owl” @ Tinicum Elementary – Photo: L. Weikel

Original Owl           

Last week when I attended the program put on by the Penn State Extension Service on the Spotted Lanternfly, I had occasion to visit the new library at Tinicum Elementary School.

All three of our sons attended Tinicum, and I have to say, overall the school provided them with a great start to their academic lives. The teachers, especially, and Mrs. Wessel (who was principal when both Karl and Maximus attended) (Sage was shortchanged by her retirement) made the school one of those idyllic places where everyone knew everybody else’s child, we were a small, tightly knit but respectfully private community, and we all knew our kids came first in everyone’s minds.

So it was with a cloak of nostalgia draped around my shoulders that I walked into the new entrance to Tinicum’s school library to attend the aforementioned bug program.

Once Upon a Time, a Long Time Ago

The old school library used to have a diorama in it, with most of our local fauna represented in living color for the children to see ‘up close and personal.’ As a result, when Karl and I found the Great Horned Owl that ultimately became the ‘star’ of my book, Owl Medicine, we had it stuffed by a local taxidermist and donated it to the school.

 

At the time of that donation, actually, only Karl was a student at Tinicum. Maximus was in preschool and Sage wasn’t even a blip on our radar yet. Wow. So long ago it almost seems like another life.

Anyway, I’d heard (and could see from the outside) that major renovations had been done to the school and that the diorama had been dismantled. I worried that they’d done something with our owl, but did not have the heart to go look. I just knew it would make me too sad to contemplate it if the owl had been ‘disposed of.’

(Not to mention the fact that in order to get anywhere near the school anymore, you practically have to have six different forms of ID and a notarized note from your mother to gain entry. It is stunning to me the difference between how accessible our school was ‘back then’ compared to the lock-down status most schools keep themselves in now. That loss should go on my list of ‘topics for another day.’)

Waves of Nostalgia and a Sense of Continuity

Which leads me back to last week, when I entered the library and almost immediately noticed “our” owl swooping into the library from the back, in the wonderful pose we’d chosen for it. Warm feelings of nostalgia and continuity swept over me when I caught sight of our very personal and beloved contribution to our elementary school.

Truth be told, relief also swept over me. I’m so glad it’s still keeping a watchful eye on the children.

Seeing it again –such a handsome, majestic bird – and fully appreciating the profound impact finding this bird had on my life, is rather astonishing.

Yet Another Lesson on the Importance of Listening

As I described in my book, I knew when I saw a Great Horned Owl hanging upside down at the side of the road, its lifeless body dangling from a grapevine wrapped around one of its legs, that this discovery was important. It meant something bigger than just a tragic avian mishap.

I can tell you with complete honesty, though, that never in a million years would I have believed you if you told me I would eventually write a book called Owl Medicine and also name my shamanic healing practice Owl Medicine Shamanic Healing. (Indeed – if you’d told me at that stage of my life that I would become a shamanic practitioner I would’ve either laughed in your face or looked at you as if you had two heads.)

But here we are.

Here I am, writing this blog entitled “Ruffled Feathers” on my website (also named after our owl). My sons are men. Karl-the-younger is gone (or is he?), and Karl and I are still taking walks – every day – past the exact spot where we found that owl 28 years ago.

Kind of amazing.

(T-948)

What’s It Going to Take? – Day 161

Posted on by Lisa Weikel Leave a comment
Easter Sky, 21 April 2019 –  Photo: L. Weikel

Change is in the Air

Just look at that photo.

That’s a reflection of what I’m feeling inside, this Easter Day.

I can’t say I’m feeling ‘blue skies.’ Or ‘sunshine.’ But I can’t say I’m feeling ‘foggy,’ either, nor would I characterize my internal meteorological state as ‘blue,’ ‘miserable,’ or even ‘torpid.’

If pushed, I’d probably suggest ‘glorious,’ ‘volatile,’ turbulent’ and most definitely ‘changeable.’ Certainly ripe for transformation.

I’m ready. Ready to shake things up. Break out of my rut. Stop being so conventional.

Sensing Karl’s Presence

A few weeks ago, I was feeling the distinct sense that Karl was ‘around.’ Truth be told, his presence had receded to a great extent over the past two years or so. He was much more communicative (in his way) the first five years following his death.

While sad that the messages weren’t coming through to me anywhere near as often, I’ve also felt deeply at peace with it. In fact, I’ve actively refrained from reaching out to him; I want him to be moving on, continuing on his evolutionary path, doing whatever he was called to do ‘next.’ I certainly did not want to be responsible for tethering him in any way to this reality.

So imagine my surprise when he actually arranged for me to either meet in person or have a conversation with three different people (none of whom know each other, one of whom I’d never met before, a second I’ve not seen in person for at least 8 years and only spoken to sporadically, and the third I’d only met twice in my life, the last time being five years ago) all within the span of three weeks.

Three Unexpected – and Unrelated – Messengers

I should note that I did not know any of these women as people who actively communicate with beings on the other side of the veil.

Yet, in each of those conversations, none of which had anything to do with Karl, he ‘broke through’ and made himself and his presence known.

And each one of them gave me essentially the same message, which was Karl provocatively asking, “Mom, what’s it going to take? It’s time.”

Each instance, naturally, has been stunning. Astounding. Completely and totally unexpected. And as each encounter followed the other, the urgency of the core message became harder to escape or dismiss.

The invitation, his hand, is extended. I need only accept.

“There’s work to be done.”

Beam of Light (Breakthrough?), Easter 2019 – Photo: L.Weikel

(T-950)