power of sharing Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

DECEMBER Tug-o-war & Visitor – Photo: L. Weikel

Smiling

Even though I feel pressed for time this evening since there’s no way I’m going to get this published by 1:00 a.m., I know it’s a feeling I need to let go. And the reason I need to let it go is because I have to tell you how much I’m smiling inside. Even though this may not get sent out at the requisite witching hour, I’m grateful that I’m writing it at all.

I’m finding it hard to articulate what I mean. Let me back up a little.

This afternoon I was playing with Pacha and Brutus, all three of us drinking in the unbelievably mild weather. It had to have been in the mid-60s today, and darn close to hitting 70.

One of our favorite games is a rudimentary form of fetch, wherein I chuck a squeaker dog toy dressed up to look like an animal as far as I can toward our little barn and they run pell-mell after it. Most of the time they chase and tackle each other, ripping the toy out of each other’s mouths, and eventually bring it back to me for another toss. There’s a lot of taunting and teasing that goes on as well. And then there’s the inevitable tug-o’-war, since the toy has floppy legs that lend themselves to puppies digging in their heels and refusing to unclench their jaws.

An Unexpected Sighting

I’d tossed the squeaker creature approximately 358 times, when they stopped halfway back to me and engaged in an epic battle of tug-o’-war. I don’t know what got into them, but neither was yielding. When I started walking toward them to yank it from both of them (would I do that?!), I saw something completely unexpected: the brilliant head of a dandelion peeking out at me from amongst the piles of leaves and assorted other remnants of autumn detritus.

Trained from my 1111 Devotion experience, I had my phone in the pouch of my sweatshirt, the ready to snap a photo at a moment’s notice. As can be seen from the photo above, not only did I capture the resilience of our December Dandelion, I also managed to get a shot of the ongoing battle that was ensuing.

Back to My Gratitude

All of which leads me back to what I was so inartfully trying to articulate at the beginning of this post. Yeah, I’m posting late, so now this won’t get into my readers’ email inboxes until Saturday. But in the grand scheme of things, and remembering how sad I was feeling two weeks ago (when I was in the midst of my posting hiatus), there’s a smile beaming out from my heart center.

Who’d have thought I’d find a dandelion blooming in the midst of our lawn on December 16^th? And why in the world would it make me…smile?

While the long-term implications of this (not to mention the devastating tornadoes and storms of last week and yesterday in the South and Midwest) might indicate the deeply troubling reality of accelerating climate change, the simultaneous beauty and worry generated by this sunny countenance is more meaningful because I can share it with you.

When I saw that dandelion and ‘had’ to take a photo of it, all I could think about was sharing it with you. It’s odd! We’re five days or so from the solstice and the shortest day of the year! And the fact that I was walking on the grass in bare feet was weird too. (In more ways then one, I know.)

But what mattered to me was the prospect of sharing it with all of you. In other words, I’m grateful we’ve renewed this invisible but meaningful connection. The fact that you’re ‘out there’ and we’re sharing these moments matters to me. You make me smile.

11 Mourning Doves also decided to hang out with us – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+9)

Every Single Day

Every single day in the two weeks since publishing my final post in the 1111 Devotion, I’ve thought about all of you. What a surprise. And I don’t mean that in a cavalier sense of not appreciating your participation in my commitment. I simply never expected to discover just how much my perspective on the world has become connected to contemplating what I might end up sharing with you at the end of the day.

While it’s true I feel like I talk to each of you when I sit here and write each night, I’ve discovered that I look at the world differently because of you.

I guess that’s what doing something every single day for just over three years will do. It becomes a part of you, a part of how you think and who you are. And while it made me sad the first few days to realize, “No; that’s over. I’m not doing that anymore,” I thought the melancholy would dissipate. I assumed my inclination to view the world from the perspective of what might be cool or interesting or magical – or infuriating or troubling – to share with you would abate.

But it didn’t. It hasn’t.

The Gift of the Process

I initiated my 1111 Devotion as a means of holding Karl close, of honoring him. In the process, I experienced the magic of connection. I discovered an unexpected bounty of heart through the challenge of sharing my life with you. Because it was only my commitment to fulfilling my devotion that resulted in the intimacy of sharing that took place. For what else, aside from my own life experiences, could I possibly find to write about for 1111 consecutive days?

Had I not publicly declared my intention to engage in my 1111 Devotion, I assure you I never would have written 1100 of those posts. OK, at the most, I might have written 111. But it never would have occurred to me to write the vast, vast majority of them.

It’s taken me some time to realize that experiencing the most mundane circumstances and experiences with an eye toward sharing them with you elevated them (for me).

I take a photo of the nascent crescent of the moon and now ache to write about the promise of the new monthly cycle it represents. By indulging the urge to share a simple photo of the moon, I remind us all, myself included, to pay attention to the rhythms in our lives. I’m reminded to pause and consider what new thoughts, ideas, or projects are seeking my attention.

What I’ve realized is that, for me at least, it’s the sharing that brings meaning. And that means you, my friends, are an essential part of this equation.

Thank you for being here.

(T+2)