thunderstorm Archives - Owl Medicine: Shamanic Healing

Spring Arrives Tomorrow

It’s quiet tonight, and I even have the front door flung wide open to take in the sounds of whomever might still be awake. The peepers were in full throat earlier, but the only voice I hear now is the wind’s, sighing through the tops of the pine trees across the way. Perhaps all the creatures fell asleep when they hunkered down during the thunderstorm that rolled through earlier. Spring arrives tomorrow, riding the coattails of the lightning that lit up the sky tonight.

As much as I love the peepers and tree frogs, though, I’m rarely disappointed when silence is the prevailing theme for the evening. In this moment, I feel like silence is an especially rare gift that those of us lucky enough to have it should receive with gratitude – and awe.

Daffodils Amid Ice – Photo: L. Weikel

Life Bursts Forth

The warmth of the past two days has caused a virtual eruption from within the soil. Croci and daffodils bloomed in a cacophony of color yesterday. With so much of our attention on the war and carnage in Ukraine, it seems almost weird to witness Nature’s relentless surge toward expression.

Weird, but are any of us truly surprised? I doubt it. We all know, if we’re honest, that humans may end up killing ourselves. But Nature will almost certainly survive. (I’d say it’s certain, but I don’t want to jinx it. Never challenge our species in the whole ‘who can make things worse’ category. If anything, ‘We’re number one!’ when it comes to that. Woohoo!)

Full Virgo Moon

Last night, the moon reached her peak fullness. A neighbor had a lovely full moon fire in the middle of her forest. It was gorgeous to witness as we wrapped up an early evening walk. At first it seemed risky but it was clear she had built it just so and neither a tree nor a leaf budding forth was in danger of being singed. In fact, the flames licking upward caused deep orange shadows to dance on the bodies of all the trees serving as sentinels.

A moon cycle comes to its apex. A season of introspection and rejuvenation ends.

Let’s envision skies that are quiet and peaceful rippling out across the world. A new season. A new way of being.

And precisely as I wrote the words of that last sentence, the eerie, unexpected bray of a donkey echoed throughout our little hamlet.

(T+102)

Playful Pup – Photo: L. Weikel

Stuff I Forgot

You knew it would happen – or probably could’ve guessed. (Yes, yes; I know.) I knew it would be an effort. And there would be days fraught with challenges. But we did it 17 years ago! We were still a bustling household with two sons still living at home. Soccer games, musicals, all sorts of extra-curricular activities dominated our time. I was commuting to Philadelphia back then, for heaven’s sake; and traveling to The Netherlands for training. We even did it again four years later. Ooooh, but there was stuff I forgot.

I’d say mostly it’s the little stuff. But there are some bigger things too. The bigger things are all mostly associated with the adrenaline that floods my system when I see Pacha bolting after the ever elusive Cletus, ignoring every single, “Come!” I may shout.

Cletus likes to act like the Pied Piper and lead the puppies into the small patch of woods beside our garage. I swear he’s doing it on purpose, and sometimes I wonder if his intentions are even more nefarious than just getting them lost or yelled at.

Pacha tuckered out after our walk – Photo: L. Weikel

Big Stuff

I’d say most of the big stuff I sweat has to do with Pacha and Brutus’s safety, which of course is directly tied to their lack of discipline. We’ve been diligently working with them to at least get the basics down: Come; sit; stay.

Sadly, it seems some days I’m the one who needs to re-learn these commands, because it feels like we’re going backwards. For instance, when we first brought them home, the pups came to us all the time. They responded to, “Come!” like rock stars. Now? Not only don’t they come; they run in the other direction.

(And no, we don’t chase them. But sometimes we do feel like we’re the fools.)

Indeed, Pacha in particular has quite the sassy attitude. She literally talks back when I’m trying to train her to do something. I don’t know if she thinks I’m joking around or if she just thinks she looks cute getting into the classic yoga position of ‘down dog,’ her butt high in the air.

Their response to “Sit,” is fairly consistent. And I have to admit, on today’s walk they were pleasingly obedient when we told them to get “over” and “sit” when a car approached.

Little Stuff

And then there’s the ‘little stuff.’ Such as? Such as trying to figure out what to do when the puppies are encountering their first thunderstorm, with its attendant copious amounts of rain.

While they both sat up straight, roused from sleepy reverie when they heard their first crack of thunder (here at our house, anyway), they did not act fearful. OK, they may have burrowed a little deeper into their snuggles, but overall, they didn’t tremble or whine or act inordinately fearful.

But a good example of the small stuff to which I’m referring is getting them to do their business when it’s raining. Oh my goodness. Even without rain falling on their short, sensitive Boston Terrier coats, they often have to be coaxed to come down off the porch a minimum of six times (at least) before they’ll leave a deposit and make it ‘all clear’ for us to head to bed. But now that it’s raining?

Not. Happening.

It’s not like they’re so well trained about going to the bathroom outside to begin with. But adding the rain seems to be the death knell to progress on that score. They look at me and, quite literally, I feel like they’re both saying, “Why in the world would we do anything outside when we can do it in here, in this warm and dry indoor climate, and you just clean it up?” I suppose they have a point.

Growing All the Time

They’re still babies. And we’re still new parents (again), trying to remember how strict we were ‘back in the day’ to have caused Sheila to be as good a girl as she was, in spite of how busy we were.

Something tells me Sheila never talked back with anything near the intensity of Pacha. And I think she always jubilantly responded when we said, “Come.” Ultimately, though? I have faith in our process together.

And darn it if their cuteness doesn’t make up for a multitude of sins.