sharing

Smiling – ND #9

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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 16th? 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 – ND #2

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Waxing Crescent Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

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)

Pupdate – ND #1

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Bigger Helpers (Tonight!) – Photo: L. Weikel

It just feels wrong not to write. At the very least, I must yield to the unspoken but palpable need I feel emanating from many of you for a pupdate.

After all, we shared the loss of Sheila. A year later, we collectively mourned the sudden loss of Spartacus. And then I disclosed the dream in which Spartacus showed up and told me – no, directed me – to get another puppy. I confessed how he placed his paw on my arm, looked into my eyes, and said, “You need me.”

I regaled you with the astonishing (and yet not) synchronicity of our Sarah finding a listing for Boston Terrier puppies and how they’d only become old enough to be adopted the very same day I was awakened by that dream. And then…well, we all know what happened next. Karl and I drove all the way across the state and became smitten with the littlest guy in the litter and his only sister.

No, they don’t always sleep, but… – Photo: L. Weikel

Love Triumphed

I think it’s fair to say you shared our heartbreak. And knowing this, perhaps weirdly, I was a little afraid to disclose welcoming these new additions into our family so soon after losing Spartacus. Although we searched our hearts and contemplated our motives, we – or more accurately I, since I’m the one with the relationship with all of you – worried our somewhat impulsive adoption might seem disloyal to Spartacus and Sheila.

I wondered if I should just keep the arrival of our new babies to ourselves.

But as all of you know, love triumphed. On some level, these puppies – Pacha and Brutus – are our collective healing balm. I trusted the internal nudging I received to write about our newest additions to our family. I decided sharing the joy was worth risking being judged.

They do 4 miles like pros now – Photo: L. Weikel

Simple Pleasures

Goodness knows, we’ve shared an exorbitant amount of collective trauma. The past three years have in many ways been like a roller coaster ride through the inside of a House of Horrors. From the personal to the national to the planetary level we’ve been dodging and catching some major body blows. And we took them as a community. Upon reflection, though, I’d say we shared some pretty cool stuff as well.

The truth is, puppies and kittens, regardless of age, make us smile. They remind us of life’s simple pleasures. If we’re lucky enough to have them in our lives, we know the indescribable feeling of being on the receiving end of unconditional love. (We know which species is usually more adept at conveying it, at least un-self-consciously.) And if we’re unable to have them in our lives at the moment, we can share the love vicariously. It’s a fact.

So here I am. Sharing the love. (And missing you.)

Check these puppies out.

Snuggling – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+1)

Am I Bad? – Day 1065

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Brutus inspiring a blog post – Photo: L. Weikel

Am I Bad?

Ok, you guys. Am I bad? We all know there are only 46 posts left for me to write before I reach my magic goal of 1111 consecutive entries; my 1111 Devotion. Many of you have been steadfast companions along this journey – giving me incentive to tackle the mountain one step at a time. “Pata y pata,” as the paqos said with sly smiles as Karl and I trekked, step by step, toward a glacial lagoon 14 years ago.

When I ask the question, “Am I bad?” I’m really only acknowledging that the newest members of our family will inevitably benefit all of us – including you, my dear companions on this  trek. I have no doubt that Pacha and Brutus will make the next 46 days exponentially more pleasant for all of us. Why?

Because…PUPPIES. It really is that simple.

PachaPup – aka Bat Girl – Photo: L. Weikel

Transmuting Grief to Joy

There’s nothing like puppy (or kitten) energy to brighten our lives. And let’s face it: we’ve all been through the mill. The past almost three years have whipped us around physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, if we’re honest. And while I’ve tried to walk my invisible line that wavers between optimism and despair, I’ve also – always – striven for honesty.

I’ve felt some heartaches in the midst of the past 1065 nights that I’ve not shared. You guys don’t need to know every jot and tittle of my emotional landscape. But truth be told, those not shared, or at least alluded to, have been few and far between.

For the most part, I subscribe to the “a joy shared is doubled and a sorrow shared is halved” school of thought. And knowing you are on this journey with me has doubled my joys and halved my sorrows. But wow – I do know some of the sorrows, such as Spartacus’s sudden death, were hard on all of us.

Brutus hangin’ with his Blue Dog squeaky toy – Photo: L. Weikel

A Gift to All of Us

All of which is to say I honestly think the astonishing discovery and adoption of these puppies was a gift to all of us. The infusion of puppy energy into our home was, and is, palpably restorative. The pall that descended upon us at our loss of Spartacus was very nearly overwhelming. And I cannot thank all of you enough for the love and compassion we felt pouring in.

I do believe we’re in for a bunch more ‘stuff’ out there in the tumult of our society. There’s more upheaval coming. But Spartacus was right: I do need him. And I believe we need each other – and (apparently) a double dose of puppy energy – to get us through the next…what? At least the next 46 more days.

After that? I guess we’ll see.

But I promise you this: Brutus, Pacha, and I will provide you with plenty of photos documenting their puppyhood. It’s the least we can do for our friends. While I might be shameless in sharing our new babies, I hope you won’t think I’m too  bad for it.

(T-46)

Sedentary Sunday – Day 924

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You Can’t See Me… – Photo: L. Weikel

Sedentary Sunday

The arrival of summer temperatures this weekend (it feels too early to me to be hitting 90 degrees, but what do I know?) persuaded me to indulge in a delightfully sedentary Sunday reading and studying on my porch.

Every time I consciously spend several hours away from electronics, I start thinking about how different life was in the not-too-distant past. I know I’ve read a million articles about how addicted we all are to our devices and yet I still check the headlines somewhat compulsively. (I actually chalk that up more to the trauma of the past four years than simple devotion to my laptop or cellphone.) Nevertheless, I’m starting to entertain thoughts of a shift this summer.

We’ll see.

My Real Message

The message I actually wanted to convey this evening has to do with an encounter I had on my walk this evening. Spartacus and I were ambling along the side of the road, taking in the way the sky was being painted by the setting sun.

A car approached us and I did as I try to do as often as possible, which is getting both the pup and myself entirely off the roadway. Most people smile and wave. Some obviously figure, “What the heck,” and floor it. Many are respectful and seem to appreciate that I’m trying to minimize risk for all of us. Yet I’m always a little bit concerned when someone slows down.

Yes, it could be someone I know. But even most of the people I know or recognize from working the polls or simply from living here all these decades don’t stop. They wave and smile.

So I was just a scootch concerned when the compact, navy blue SUV slowed to a stop and the passenger side window whizzed down to reveal the 50-something driver. Her short hair was dark brown and wavy, and it framed her friendly, smiling face. I wondered, “Ugh, darn it. Should I know her?”

To be honest, she did act as though she knew me – and I’m pretty confident we’ve never met. But! What she said next just made my day.

Never Hold Back

“I just had to tell you,” she said immediately upon lowering her window. “I saw my first fawn of the season today!”

Delight was written all over her face and quite powerfully washed over me as she filled me in on the details. She described where she works (a special needs care facility that’s close by and situated in a setting surrounded by nature) and detailed how she’d been greeted by a Mama Doe and her quite fresh newborn standing in the driveway only minutes earlier. She marveled at how the fawn was actually nursing right in front of her – smack in the middle of the driveway – and how neither Mama nor Baby were at all afraid of including her in their moment.

The driver joked that perhaps Mama Doe was making a peace offering because she was pretty sure Mama may have been the same deer that jumped in front of her car on her way into work today. Perhaps presenting her fawn was Mama’s apology and excuse for nearly killing the driver earlier.

Joy Is Catching

The very best part of this entire encounter (beyond imagining the utter adorableness of the newborn fawn) was the spontaneity with which this driver chose to share the unmistakable joy it brought her – and best of all – how she chose to share it with me!

I don’t know which made me grin more: the idea of the Mama presenting her nursing fawn to this woman (and the delight with which this gift was received) or that this woman somehow recognized a kindred spirit in me enough to share her news. I was simply walking along this country road at dusk and my evening was turned into an experience of sharing Nature’s magic and love.

Sharing her joy was a spontaneous act of courage. Next time any of us are tempted to do the same, I hope we don’t hesitate or hold back. We just might change the trajectory of someone’s day (or even more).

(T-187)

Not Fair – Day 516

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“She took my bowl” – Photo: L. Weikel

Not Fair

Sometimes life’s not fair.

Good grief. If that’s not an understatement of the century, I don’t know what is.

And of course, images and knowledge of the hell so many are enduring right now spring to mind almost without bidding. Fairness? There’s very little ‘fairness’ in anything we see playing out around us.

And so, of course, I am not invoking the suffering of so many of our brothers and sisters, neighbors and friends, and the many people we don’t know, have never met, and probably will never encounter in our lives – those who are either suffering acutely from Covid-19 or are trying to help those afflicted survive it.

Nope. I’m going for a scootch less serious here, folks.

Always the Puppy

I took the photo above this evening after I witnessed Sheila, who is blind and deaf and over 15 and a half years old, hone in on a bowl of icing I’d put on the floor in front of Spartacus. (Not a full bowl, of course. How could you even imagine such a travesty? No, just a bowl ‘to be licked.’)

Sheila was asleep. Spartacus got a few licks in – maybe three – when she opened her rheumy eyes, raised her unsteady carcass, and lurched across the room with a single minded focus that was impressive, I must admit.

Spartacus didn’t know what hit him. Well, yes he did. Sheila immediately grasped the solid, hefty glass bowl in her determined little mouth and pulled the bowl away from Spartacus, who had his face fully immersed in it. He didn’t growl; but neither did he yield. He stuck with it for another couple licks, but Sheila would have none of it.

Or rather, she would have all of it. She dragged it halfway across the room, this bowl that’s so heavy there’s no way she’d be able to lift it. But she dragged it far enough that he got the message.

And that’s when I snapped the photo. His look said it all. “She took my bowl. I’m sad. But there’s nothing I can do. She’s my mom.”

Good Boy

Karl and I told him what a good boy he was for sharing, even if it wasn’t entirely voluntary. And we paid extra special attention to him, which in Spartacus land, is every bit as sweet as any icing he might score. Plus, we knew he’d gotten in a couple good licks – that was why I’d given the bowl to him in the first place. I knew Sheila’s sense of smell remains unerring – and her love of icing may only be eclipsed by her passion for ice cream. I knew she’d be on it like lightning, no matter how deep in Dreamtime she might initially be.

We show love in so many ways. Whether we’re humans or canines, a little bit of patience, a choice to be kind or generous, a gesture of compassion. Every time we show or do any of these toward another, we make life here on Earth a little bit better.

So before you say or think, “Not fair” today, may you give a nod to Spartacus and share your bowl of icing with those you love the most – with nary a growl nor a grudge.

Yin/Yang – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-595)

Turkey Day – Day Eleven (T-1100)

Posted on by Lisa Weikel 4 Comments

 

Turkey Day

Funny.  I never call Thanksgiving “Turkey Day,” but here I am titling my blog post for today “Turkey Day.”

I didn’t eat turkey today, nor did I even see one (either in the wild or on a platter).

But I thought of turkeys today – and the meaning of Turkey as conveyed by my beloved Medicine Cards – and in spite of myself, kind of felt a little sad.

One of the paragraphs in Turkey goes as follows:

“Spectators unfamiliar with the cultural phenomenon of the pot-latch or give-away ceremony are often mystified by it. A tribal member may gladly give away all he or she owns, and do without in order to help the People. In present-day urban life, we are taught to acquire and get ahead. The person with the most toys wins the game. In some cultures, no one can win the game unless the whole of the People’s needs are met. A person who claims more than his or her share is looked upon as selfish or crazy or both. The poor, the aged, and the feeble have honor. The person who gives away the most and carries the burdens of the people is one of the most respected.”

What’s Mine? Yours? Ours? Theirs?

There’s a lot of focus these days on what’s ‘mine,’ what’s ‘yours,’ what’s theirs,’ and what’s ‘ours.’ And there are a lot of people claiming an astoundingly greater portion of a lot of our resources than could even remotely be considered their ‘share.’

And I will be the first to admit that I do not consistently embody the spirit conveyed within this paragraph. I don’t even come close. But I aspire to do so.

And I wonder how much better so many people in the world would feel if everyone just thought a little bit more about someone else. Not only the people who were ‘thought of,’ but also the people who do the thinking of others. It could be such a colossally ‘win-win’ of a situation.

The joy of making another person smile and know they’re loved – it’s huge. The joy of letting another person know they make a difference in your life and you appreciate them for it – can change their life forever. The joy of taking a moment to be kind, to be generous, to be patient, or to be compassionate – can make your life worth living.

Sometimes the smallest gestures, such as looking directly into a person’s eyes when you listen to them, can make everything seem a little bit brighter.

Aspire to make a difference. Smile. Be grateful. You matter.

Happy “Turkey” Day.