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Wherewithal – ND #8

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

Wherewithal

I have a bunch of things I’d like to write about tonight but each topic deserves more thought and effort than I have the wherewithal to muster at this moment. Wherewithal. That’s a cool word.

I feel a tug to pull a couple cards for us, too. But not tonight. I’m thinking maybe Friday or Saturday night. I’ll ask what we need to ILLUMINATE in our lives and perhaps shed or set aside at this full moon. What has reached its fullness in our lives and is ready to move on?

It might benefit all of us to pose that question silently to ourselves now, actually. You know, give ourselves a couple of days to ruminate on the question.

We’re coming up on a powerful time – the winter solstice (here in the Northern Hemisphere, anyway) – the longest night of the year.

Light in the Darkness

It’s important to notice whether any of the intentions we set at the new moon are culminating this week. Or perhaps there are longer term projects that are beginning to see the light of day.

It’s easy for me to plant the seeds of what I’d like to create or manifest in my life – and then forget to ‘check in’ with the Universe to see right where I am at the present moment. It’s an essential practice.

Sometimes we just need to remember to light a candle or otherwise bring some light to the darkness. And sometimes the darkness that’s darkest is what’s inside of us. So in lieu of swallowing fire, how do we find a light in the darkness of our thoughts and feelings?

I’m thinking.

(T+8)

Imperfections – Day 774

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Christmas Eve – Photo: L. Weikel

Imperfections

I’m sitting here listening to rain pelt against the dining room windows while a long, lonely gust of wind whistles through the keyhole of our front door. No need to worry about ‘closed building syndrome’ in this old house – and that’s just fine with me. I’m happy with the creaks and cracks of this home, the things some people might consider imperfections.

In fact, I’d go so far as to say I love the imperfections that make our house our home. Not all of them, of course. (Oh, for even a smidgen more kitchen counter space.) But overall? I honestly think it’s the imperfections that keep me sane.

Maybe it’s because I grew up in a house that was built in 1770. It was nothing like the houses of most of my friends. Our wooden floors were known to occasionally cast splinters as big as spears into my foot, piercing my socks and making me yelp (and causing my father to reach for the black gunky stuff that smelled like tar, that would supposedly ‘pull it out’ if it was embedded too deeply to dig out).

Christmas Eve 2020

I think many of us would agree that this Christmas in particular is filled with imperfections. Certainly, it’s far different than any Christmas most of us can recall. But I have to wonder. What will we remember most about this most abnormal of yuletides?

There are so many people enduring untold grief this Christmas. (And of course, I am using Christmas as a shorthand for all the holidays we may be celebrating at this time of year that celebrate the return of light, and encourages going within, hibernating, and reflection.) Nothing feels the same. And precious little is the same.

People are losing loved ones to the pandemic and other causes by the thousands – every single day. We’re being asked to sacrifice our traditions for the safety of ourselves and others. We’re wondering just how long this no-longer-fresh hell is going to last.

A Reminder

Karl and I were lucky enough to be able to spend a few hours with one of our sons and daughter-in-law. Because the weather is as unpredictable as it is, early this evening, it was balmy enough for us to safely sit outside in their enclosed porch and eat dinner together – occupying opposite ends of the long dinner table.

As we were driving home in the pouring rain that luckily mostly held off until we were leaving, the wind starting to whip around us, a couple of deer jumped out into the roadway in front of us. Luckily, I was driving slowly enough that I saw them well ahead of time. Turned out, though, that the three that popped onto the roadway before us were joining quite the cadre of peers on the other side of the road.

They were so beautiful and such an unexpected sight! I rolled down my window and took their photo, in spite of the raindrops splattering on my face. They were a lovely reminder of the gentleness we’re all wise to exercise with each other and ourselves over these holiday times.

I’m grateful we didn’t have an accident. And I loved the looks they seemed to give us as they stood there in the rain, returning our gaze. I realize this post probably makes little sense. But I wish all of you a peaceful, loving Christmas Day. May we all enjoy a day of respite from the insanity that has marked this year in particular.

And I’ll forgive myself for the vast imperfections of this post – not least being the fact that I just blew right through the witching hour of 1:00 a.m. (when it gets automatically sent out to my email list).

Merry Christmas. Happy Solstice. Let’s let the light shine into our hearts.

(T-337)

Winter Solstice – Day 404

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First Lights – Photo: L. Weikel

Winter Solstice    

When you read this post it will be December 21st, 2019, the shortest day of the year. Hence, it is also the longest night.

I don’t know about you (although I can guess), but is sure has felt like a long, dark night all week.

I’m ready for the light to begin filtering back into our lives.

Speaking of Which

Of course, speaking of darkness, it seems only appropriate that I mention probably one of my favorite things about this time of year: the lights; especially the lights on our Christmas tree.

I adore sitting in our living room, all the regular lights turned out, the tv off, and just the candles in the windows and the tree lights illuminating the darkness. A couple of evenings over the next two weeks or so – perhaps even tomorrow night (who knows?) – I’d love to spend the entire evening reading, the fire burning in the fireplace, the lights twinkling, and the darkness remaining at bay outside.

In the Meantime

I want to remind you that the I AM Solstice Symposium is taking place tomorrow (Saturday, December 21st, 2019). Tune in! There’s a great lineup of inspiring speakers who will be sharing all sorts of insight, wisdom, strategies, lore, and opportunities for connection.

I’ll be speaking live at 5:30 p.m. (EST). With the theme of this year’s I AM Symposium being Navigating Turbulent Winds, I thought it might be helpful to discuss some strategies I’ve learned over the years on how to “Batten Down the Hatches.”

It’ll be dark outside (around here anyway) by the time I start speaking. So light a candle, bask in the glow of the holidays, and invite the lights of peace, hope, and optimism (and maybe a little mirth thrown in, too) to enter all our lives. Snuggle up on your couch and join me for a fireside chat.

Wishing you a Joyful Solstice. Give birth to the light within your Self.

Photo from Deborah Hinton’s post on The Wyrding Way

(T-707)