masks

Thistle – Day 1015

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Baby Bud and Mommy Thistle – Photo: L. Weikel

Thistle

I didn’t get a chance to walk yesterday. We went to the powwow and by the time we got home, a walk simply wasn’t going to happen. So I was determined to log some miles today. In fact, I walked both the long and the short routes (walk about and walk around). And the upshot of both was that thistle was demanding my attention.

If I’d known I was going to write about it this evening, I would’ve taken even more photos of this phenomenal beauty. Thistle is blooming in most fields and along the roadside all along both of my usual circuits. The stunning lavender-leaning-toward-pink blossoms kept grabbing my attention the entire afternoon.

Spiny, almost weapon-like leaves appear on some of the plants, appearing like fireworks splaying out in a manner that yells, “Get back!” And yet other plants seem to shyly downplay those very same needle-like weapons, toning them down and making a point of calling all our attention to each stage of their floral explosion.

Something to Think About

Most times when something, be it flora or fauna, persistently insists on catching my attention, I take it to mean that it’s bringing me a message of some sort. I honestly didn’t feel that today.

Every time I took one of the photos that are accompanying this post, I had a conversation with the plant itself, thanking it for sharing its particularly lovely self with me today. It almost felt like the Spirit of Thistle was showing me herself in every aspect of her blossoming, encouraging me to appreciate each stage for its particular loveliness.

When I realized I was getting the nudge to share these photos tonight, I wondered if perhaps the Spirit of Thistle wanted to reach out and speak with one of you. It’s possible some of you aren’t getting outside enough or frequenting venues where Thistle can get your attention, and this is a way to get the message across. I’m not saying the attributes of Thistle don’t have application in my life. I’m just saying they don’t feel as personal to me as many other ‘messages’ I receive on my walks.

Teenager Thistle – Knows it all; Photo: L.Weikel

Keynote

In checking with Nature Speak* by Ted Andrews, I discovered that Thistle’s keynotes are ‘keep a sense of pride; and protect yourself against criticisms of others.’ In reading the actual discussion of the plant, I got a sense that Thistle is best known and most respected as an aid to the function of our liver. It sounds as though Thistle can be used to both cleanse and tone one’s liver. (Again, as I mentioned in this post, always use the utmost care when working with the medicinal qualities herbs. They are every bit as potent as prescription medications and should not be used carelessly or cavalierly. Ideally, you should seek the input of a trained herbalist.)

Our liver does a ton of work inside our body, cleansing our blood and helping us eliminate toxins. The toxins it confronts are not always on the physical level, either. Our liver can suffer from exhaustion or toxicity from prolonged exposure to anger, rage, criticism, and other ‘negative’ emotions. It stands to reason that sometimes our liver needs a rest, a chance to catch its breath (metaphorically) and recover its mojo. Thistle can help with that.

Scottish Connection

Thistle is the national flower of Scotland. It’s said that a Danish marauder was trying to sneak up on a Scottish camp and stepped on a thistle, causing him to shriek out in pain. This served to warn the Scots that an attack was imminent and permitted them to defend themselves appropriately.

It’s plausible that Thistle’s appearance in our life is suggesting that we may need to protect ourselves. It may be appropriate at this time to express our upset at the way we’re being treated by others.

It occurs to me that we’re hearing a lot about how so many people are in each other’s faces about this, that, and the other thing, but primarily (lately) about masks, vaccinations, and our responsibilities to ourselves and each other. From my observation, the most vociferous declarations seem to be made by those who feel they owe no one any deference; that the only righteous concern is adherence to their own beliefs and choices for themselves.

Maybe It’s Not OK

Crone Thistles – They’ve seen it all; Photo: L.Weikel

I’m wondering if perhaps Thistle is suggesting that it’s ok to stand up for the collective. It’s ok for people to express some of the anger they’ve been swallowing. Many have patiently waited for those demanding respect for their personal space and ‘freedom’ to realize there are other people sharing this planet with them, and sometimes we have to do uncomfortable things or sacrifice a bit for the benefit of us all.

And when the hoped-for epiphany regarding generosity of spirit and sacrifice never arrives? Maybe it’s time to express some righteous anger. Perhaps in as beautiful a manner as possible, but express it nonetheless (before it poisons us all).

*affiliate link

(T-96)

Hunker Down – Day 998

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Arf! – Photo: L. Weikel

Hunker Down

Is it just me? Or are you guys feeling it too? Lately I can’t even walk into the grocery store without feeling an edginess in the air that’s unlike anything I’ve felt before (especially in the grocery store!). Even when the pandemic was first starting to rear its ugly head back in March and April 2020, I didn’t feel this level of anxiety in the general populace. If you ask me it’s time to hunker down again.

OK, I’ll admit it. That’s coming from a person who probably would choose ‘Hunkering Down for $200, Alex.” In all honesty, I’d choose it for free.

The last thing I feel like doing is getting into a discussion with someone in the produce aisle who’s on a hair trigger over the fact that I’m wearing a mask. And believe it or not, I felt the possibility of that happening twice this week. I nearly fell over.

No to the Boston

And then another time this week, I saw a person walking across the parking lot I’d just entered with a cute little Boston Terrier on a leash. Well. You can all imagine how I swooned. Ooooh, how this puppy reminded me of Sheila when she was just a girl.

I jumped out of my car, whipped my debit card in and out of the meter to throw some money on it and turned to speak to the Boston and her daddy. “Your Boston is adorable!” I called out with a big smile. “I have two!” (never fully admitting to myself that Sheila is really gone).

Neither of us were wearing masks (we were in the great outdoors), and I asked if I could pet his pup. “Aren’t you concerned with…” he asked, waving his free hand in the air.

I stopped in my tracks. We were a good 20 feet away from each other. “What?” I was genuinely puzzled. Surely he knew I had no intention of getting anywhere near him. I just wanted to say hi to his pup.

“Covid,” he responded. I was taken aback. Honestly, it had never even occurred to me that I wouldn’t be permitted to pet a dog on a 10’ leash. You don’t get Covid from pet fur. Or even from surfaces. You get it from aerosols in the air; hence why it’s wise to wear masks when indoors.

“Oh,” I replied. “Would it bother you…?”

“Yes, it would, as a matter of fact.” Ugh. His tone. It had turned so…icy.

Backed Off

Whoa. OK. Of course I immediately stopped in my tracks (still about 15 feet away from the dog dad and five feet away from the Boston, which had of course had immediately responded to my high pitched hello to it and headed my way). I felt like I’d been smacked.

My reaction was silly, I suppose. But his abrupt attitude took me by such surprise.

It’s hard to know where anyone stands anymore. Or how they will react to many of the circumstances we used to consider mundane.

Makes me just want to hunker down in my own safe place. I haven’t a clue as to how people feel about anything anymore. And the enormity of that almost brought me to tears.

Spartacus in Repose – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-113)

Discomfort and Wariness – Day 946

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Ray of Light – Photo: L. Weikel

Discomfort and Wariness

I just experienced something oddly unexpected. Only a few minutes ago, I turned on the tv and changed the channel to one of my favorite news programs. It only took a few moments before I sensed this weird feeling in myself – a discomfort and wariness. Echoing in the back of my mind I heard myself asking no one out loud, “What’s off here? Why does this feel weird?”

Believe it or not, it actually took me a minute or two to figure out just what was distracting me. Maybe it’s the audio, I thought. Yeah, that was a possibility. But nah, it didn’t feel like it was simply a microphone issue. Huh. What could it be? And that’s when the camera panned out.

I think I may have literally recoiled (if only slightly). But there was the host sitting uncomfortably close to his guest, asking her questions and even laughing out loud to something she remarked upon. I think it was the guffaw that appalled me most. Good grief, he didn’t even cover his mouth when he laughed.

It felt wrong.

Things Change

Apparently, though, this is our evolved state. We’re back to in-person interviewing.

I think I’m genuinely surprised by my reaction to the resumption of face-to-face interactions. While it seems super that it’s permitted, I just don’t know.

Call me wary, but I’m sensing that the sounding of the ‘all clear’ horn is a bit premature. While I realize everyone’s clamoring to get ‘back to normal,’ I’m not thrilled about the idea of the Delta variant, which I’m pretty sure is the one that’s ripped through India and has caused new cases to skyrocket in Great Britain. Why risk playing around with this?

Is it a lot to ask ourselves to keep our masks on when we’re in public places? It just feels unnecessarily cavalier to tool around maskless when we have no idea how vulnerable any of us really is when it comes to spreading or catching the variant.

A Matter of Trust

It’s sad to me that my intuition sounds the alarm when I walk into the grocery store and see people maskless. It does, though. This is especially true when I see the sign on the door advising that masks are required for all people who’ve not been vaccinated.

Well. That pretty much dangles a carrot in front of those who choose not to be vaccinated, doesn’t it? What’s to stop a person who doesn’t believe in vaccinations (nor in social distancing) from simply doing whatever they want? The state of public life at this point asks people to self-regulate. Which means anyone can do whatever they want, and we all need to ‘just trust’ each other.

Looks Askance

Upon reflection, I realize I was actually getting some looks when I stopped at the grocery store today. I had a mask on. It’s unobtrusive. But I actually sensed people looking at my mask today, and either drawing conclusions or wondering about me, which was not my experience until now.

Were they wondering if I’d been vaccinated? Did they wonder if I was sick? Were they thinking I was just some smug ‘liberal’ trying to push my agenda on them? (My mask did say ‘Love’ – which might be considered a ‘tell.’) All of a sudden I felt like there was a lot more judgment swirling around the grocery store aisles than I’d ever felt before.

All of this jubilant ‘return to normal’ feels a bit premature. I worry about the people with health issues – or have loved ones at home who are at risk. And it makes me sad that I’ve come to the conclusion that trusting my fellow citizens to simply wear a mask if they choose not to get vaccinated is a bridge too far.

Clouds of Discomfort and Wariness – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-165)

Kiffel Christmas – Day 775

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 4 Comments
Partial Plate of Kiffels – Photo: L. Weikel

Kiffel Christmas

Yuletide 2020 will forever be remembered as Kiffel Christmas. I know, I know. I wrote about my intention to bake kiffels how many days ago? Eleven?

Well, I’m relieved to report that I’ve finally managed to get those babies baked. Today – of all days. And given the length of time it ended up taking me to roll out those little balls, fill them, and bake them, I realize the unconscious wisdom I exercised in saving the endeavor for a day when I basically had no other obligations.

In my defense, I rolled the dough into little balls and had them resting in the refrigerator, contemplating their destiny a good four days or so ago. It was finding the time and dedication to completing the task that took some juggling.

Of course, because I commandeered the oven for this long-slog of a task, we decided to wait a day to roast our yuletide turkey. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to our last wave of turkey sandwiches for the year. We only roast two turkeys a year: one for Thanksgiving and one for Christmas. Hence we only indulge in turkey sandwiches twice a year as well.

Eye Roll

I have to say, I’m rolling my eyes at the fact that I’ve obviously ceded access to my keyboard to my gastric senses. But they’re primal. I’m incredibly grateful for the roof over my head, the heat emanating from our fireplace, and the comfort in my tummy.

I guess I’m especially appreciative of our good fortune right now. I’m acutely aware of the blessing it is to be able to bake kiffels, roast a turkey, and contemplate having enough leftovers to feed ourselves for a week (and even share some, to boot).

My heart goes out to the millions of people who are facing staggering hardships right now. Sickness, hunger, sadness and fear – and perhaps worst of all, the dark jaws of hopelessness. There’s nothing I can say or do or write that will ease their burdens. And it almost feels obscene for me to engage in the banter I do.

Love and Gratitude

But all I know is that the overriding feelings I want to convey today are love and gratitude. Love for the people and opportunities that fill my life. Love for the efforts of so many in my world to make a difference in people’s lives. Love and appreciation for the smiles and kindness I see in the eyes and on the faces of so many, even though I know for a fact their hearts are heavy with burdens.

There’s so much goodness in the world.

We may be pushed in the next several days and weeks especially to buy into the proposition that we can’t trust anyone who doesn’t look like or think exactly the way we do. We may be exhorted to think the worst of everyone we encounter.

It’s in times like these that we need to focus on those smallest of blessing around us. A cookie baked by a neighbor. The warmth of our blankets and the softness of our socks. The kindness and respect shown by people we don’t even know when they stand more than six feet away from us and wear a mask – the twinkle of a smile still visible in their eyes – just because they care about you as much as they care about themselves.

We need to focus on the littlest things right now because they are, in truth, gigantic and life-affirming.

Be well, my friends. Sending you all a virtual kiffel and a hug.

(T-336)

Just Gross – Day 746

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Photo: L. Weikel

Just Gross

I just logged onto my laptop to write tonight’s post and was met with something that’s just gross. Call me a prude, call me old-fashioned, but I was disgusted when my computer’s calendar popped up a notification alerting me to the fact that tomorrow is Black Friday.

Really?

Black Friday gets as much of a calendrical shout out as, say, Memorial Day? New Year’s Day? Or dare I say Thanksgiving?

Why in the world would this even be something marked on anyone’s calendar? It’s not a day of honoring, celebration, reverence, seasonal significance, or even religious observation. It’s simply a day of mass consumerism.

Breaking Even

Yes, I know the importance of Black Friday is that it is a day where people go out and purchase stuff in such a massive frenzy that the dollars spent cause retailers’ balance sheets to not only break even but go from being ‘in the red’ to ‘in the black.’ Therefore, it’s a day of huge importance to purveyors of goods, mostly – although those who sell their services also get in on the scramble.

I’ll confess: I’m not a big shopper to begin with. But this year, especially, the whole concept of Black Friday feels utterly icky. I can only hope against hope that we’re spared videos or photos of people clambering cheek to jowl for the chance to barge into stores for bargains. They’re disheartening to witness any year – but now? In the year of Our Dear Lord Please Don’t Let It Get Any Worse 2020? It makes me want to take a hot soapy shower just thinking about it.

It also makes me want to cry.

From Today to Tomorrow

How do we manage to internally shift gears from spending today feeling grateful for the people and circumstances in our lives, great and small, that make life worth living – and feeling responsible to express that gratitude and love by remaining away and separated from those we love and cherish – to spending the next day potentially exposing ourselves and each other to a deadly virus just to buy stuff?

Kind of ironic, all that ‘spending.’

Maybe my cynicism is unwarranted. Perhaps we’ll all be pleasantly shocked tomorrow evening by the dearth of evidence that people threw public health and caring for friends, neighbors, and loved ones (not to mention themselves) to the wind in service to their need to acquire stuff.

I’m not in any way suggesting that if Black Friday is your day to spend lots of money and help shopkeepers breathe a sigh of relief that you should refrain from doing so. I’m only hoping you’ll do it remotely, or at the very least intelligently and compassionately. If we don’t take care of ourselves and each other, next year there will be significantly fewer of us around to buy a damn thing.

Let’s carry forward our gratitude and appreciation for each other. Stay home; spend money online, and if you have to go out, wear masks and stay far away from each other. Short term hassle, long term health and life and the opportunity to spend another day – and hopefully many more – spending.

(T-365)

Keeping It Together – Day 570

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Spunky Girl Setting the Pace – Photo: L. Weikel

Keeping It Together

I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m finding the task of ‘keeping it together’ exhausting.

And the weird thing is, it’s not as if I can feel my energy and resilience being drained in any given moment. No. Instead of creating a bodily tiredness that stems from sustained, productive physical effort, such as mowing a lawn or digging a garden, this exhaustion is mental, emotional, and energetic.

As a result, the profound weariness – at least as I’m experiencing it – sneaks up on me when I least expect it. It’s as if one moment I’m chugging along just fine and the next moment I’m struggling to take one more step up the steep hill we encounter every day during our walk.

Looking to Sheila

“What in the world’s the matter with me?” I wonder out loud. The expression on Karl’s face tells me he’s feeling it as well. We look to Sheila, ever the faithful hound, to save us. She happily (if obliviously) obliges, standing in the middle of the road halfway up the hill to take a breather. We kid ourselves that we’re stopping for Sheila, but we both know it’s as much for us as it is for her.

At the crest of the hill, the land flattens out and we’re greeted to the familiar expanse of the meadows where we often encounter the somewhat aloof horse that resides there. Sheila wastes no time picking up the pace that’s impressive, frankly. We wonder where she gets her energy and spunk at 15 years and 9 months. Yikes. Do the math.

It’s Everything, Of Course

Keeping it together in the midst of a global pandemic that some believe is a ‘hoax’ and thus refuse to inconvenience themselves enough to even wear a mask that might protect both us and them is a stress. Add to that the horror of watching our country cry out in pain only to be met by the angry fist of a petty, insecure tyrant. And then, lurking at the back of all of our minds is the question of whether the coronavirus is spreading like wildfire as thousands upon thousands of us march and gather in protest to the corrosive effects of systemic racism and abuse of power.

Efforts are made to practice social distancing and the vast majority wear masks…but still. The crowds are massive in some cities. The risk is huge. The price of demanding justice may become stunningly dear.

Yeah, it’s exhausting. But this is when we need to tap into our reserves. We need to drop into our core and remember what we treasure most in life. We need to find our own unique, spiritual center of calm resolve and strength. What color is it? What does it look like? Is it a place? A feeling? A knowing?

Hmm. Good questions for pondering in these volatile times.

I might be exhausted now, but I’m going to permit myself to sleep. Rest up. You should, too. We’re going to need our wits about us in the days ahead.

Sheila setting a good example – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-541)

My Heart Hurts – Day 568

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 2 Comments
Silence is Violence & My Heart Hurts – Photo: L. Weikel

My Heart Hurts

You know from my recent posts that the slow, deliberate, and unwarranted killing (murder) of George Floyd in Minneapolis one week ago today – on Memorial Day – has haunted me. And of course I know I am not alone. The depraved manner in which that police officer coldly and nonchalantly pressed his knee onto the back of Mr. Floyd’s neck until his life was snuffed out felt like a straw that broke our country’s back. My heart hurts.

I only heard about the protest scheduled for the center of Doylestown (Bucks County’s county seat) at 11:00 a.m. this morning, but Karl and I managed to get there by the appointed start time of 1:00 p.m. The crowd seemed to still be growing over an hour and a half after the protest began.

Taking a Knee – Photo: L. Weikel

Taking a Knee

I have to say, I had a hard time joining in on any of the chants. Every time I opened my mouth to raise my voice in protest, that voice failed me. It cracked quite pathetically as I was overcome with a depth of emotion that welled up within me. I felt overcome by the enormity of the injustice and cruelty that’s inflicted on our fellow Americans, just because their skin is darker than mine. How utterly absurd.

One of the most powerful moments, for me, was when the crowd of over (at least) 100 people collectively took a knee and simply held several minutes of sustained silence. It seemed as though even the traffic was muted. The silence was eerie and profound.

A Lovely Moment

I happened to look behind me at one point and was given the gift of witnessing a lovely moment of helping hands and kindness. I’ll let the photo speak for itself.

Loving Helping Hands – Photo: L. Weikel

Support and Solidarity

As traffic continued to flow through the center of town, the vast majority of cars and trucks honked their horns and waved their hands in support, eliciting applause and whoops of solidarity and hope from the protesters filling the square and lining the sidewalks along both sides of Main Street and Court Street. (By the time we left, I’m pretty sure there were at least 200-250 people in attendance.)

And then we engaged in the part of the protest that was, without question, the most profound for me.  Everyone who was able chose to lay prone on the cobblestones or concrete before them. We assumed the position that George Floyd was forced to endure and we maintained that position for 8 minutes and 46 seconds. Many of my fellow protesters called out, “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

“I can’t breathe” – Photo: L. Weikel

I Wept

Yet again, I found myself incapable of joining in with my voice. Instead, I will admit it: I wept. Hot tears flooded into the Covid-mask I wore, and I did indeed find my breath stifled and thick. But the sadness. The sadness just rocked my body as I allowed myself to even for one moment imagine the depth of Mr. Floyd’s fear and pain and disbelief that his life would end in that moment. For what? For nothing. While passersby yelled for his murderers to stop, the pressure continued. Unrelenting. Until it was over. And even then, the pressure continued. Just to make sure, I guess.

Why? Because he was black. Because he was at the mercy of those with the power. Because they could.

The wanton abuse of power in our nation must end. We must use our power to establish much needed and long awaited justice. Vote.

If you live in Pennsylvania, and you haven’t already done it by mail, exercise your power today (Tuesday, June 2, 2020) – and especially in November.

Vote! – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-543)

A Second, Scarier, Quarantine – Day 559

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Storm Clouds, Portal of Blue – Photo: L. Weikel

A Second, Scarier, Quarantine

Only one short year ago, I wrote about the Spotted Lantern Fly (SLF), an invasive species that is decimating forests in Pennsylvania and spreading into other states as well. In that post, I discussed the quarantine our state is under and the efforts being made to eradicate this pest. But what I found most stunning when I re-read that post a few minutes ago was my use of the word quarantine – and the weird reality of this second, scarier, quarantine we find ourselves in.

My discussion of the need for us to work together to keep the SLF from spreading seems almost sweetly naïve. I was entreating us all to work together to kill off a bug with no natural predators in order to protect our forests. And of course, I assumed we would.

Surely we would work together to fight against the spread of a ‘bug’ with no natural predators for the good of us all. Right?

Kick Off Summer Right

I don’t need to tell anyone reading this post that Memorial Day Weekend 2020 is on track to be one of the strangest any of us have experienced in our lifetimes. As a direct result of our behavior, it could very well turn out to be potentially the deadliest of holiday weekends as well.

Only time will tell if that relates to humans as well as Spotted Lantern Flies.

I’d prefer to think this is a worse time for SLFs than my fellow two-leggeds, but it will take a lot of work to make it so. That’s especially true if humans feel the need to be petulant and wilful. Especially if we demand that nothing in our lives change in order to keep each other and ourselves healthy and ‘bug-free.’

Do Our Part

There are two ways we can do our part to make things worse for Spotted Lantern Flies than ourselves and our fellow humans.

The first is to make a point to be vigilant when outside, as surely all of us will be this weekend – and throughout the summer – to be on the lookout for the bug we can see: the Spotted Lantern Fly.

Here is a great article I read today encouraging all of us to take up the cause I advocated last year.  As I said then, and as I reiterate now, it takes all of us working together to beat this scourge.

Of course, the second way we can make sure this summer is worse for the SLF than for us humans is to kill (or at least minimize the spread) of the bug we can’t see. We need to use our heads. Not be dumb. The research is out there; it shows just how virulently the Coronavirus spreads through water droplets and aerosol particles that come out of our mouths and noses through coughing, laughing, talking, and singing.

Wear a mask when out in public. Stay away (by at least six feet) from people generally  – but especially from people who don’t care enough about anyone but themselves to wear a mask.

This isn’t a case of freedom. Or liberty. Requiring people to wear masks when it is scientifically proven that masks can prevent up to 80% of the spread of Covid-19 is a simple matter of public health and welfare. The right to live in safety from the spread of a highly communicable disease (that can be carried by people who have no symptoms and may not even know they have it) ‘trumps’ the so-called ‘infringement’ on the right of anyone to refuse to wear a mask.

The rights are not equal. You do not have the right to kill me. Or my friends. Or my relatives. Or even those I may not like or do not know.

Kill the Bugs – Not Each Other

While I’m not a big fan of killing anything, truth be told, I would much prefer we all focus our attention on kicking the need for quarantines of any kind. Let’s kill those Spotted Lantern Flies. (Here’s another link to good info on this.) Let’s also kill the spread of the Coronavirus. Every time we wear a mask we do our part to starve the beast.

Call me naïve, but I do think we can work together to save us all. I’m not liking this second, scarier, quarantine. But let’s hope I’m not writing about a third quarantine next year at this time.

(T-552)