by Lorna Tedder · in Energy
As I write this in early July, the heat index is 110 degrees but it feels like fall. Energetically, that is. Temperature-wise, it’s hot as hell outside and the hottest weather is yet to come.
Autumn is my favorite season and maybe that’s why I noticed this first, before I noticed the changes in the sky. Where I live, the temperature does not begin to cool until late September, sometimes even early October, though I remember as a teenager in the late ‘70s wearing stylish tweed suits to the first September football games and being quite comfortable on a nippy Friday night.
But the energy of fall is very different from the weather of fall.
Autumn, to me, has the energetic feel–for lack of a better term–of lushness and abundance. It is the time in my life when I have most often fallen in love. I grew up on a farm, attuned to the seasons and how each felt. Not just the weather but the life force of each season. I always laugh at Northerners who tell me that the South doesn’t have real seasons. There may not be snow and the trees may change color only during Thanksgiving week, but energetically there are most definitely four distinct seasons.
When I first noticed the feel of autumn in scorching early August a few years ago, I was fortunate enough to have several friends who heard me mention it and agreed. They were a Wiccan, a Druid, a gardener, and a farmer. All of them had noted the same thing, the feeling that autumn had come early, very early, even though the weather was still brutally hot and humid. It was an odd thing for all of us to note independently, though none of us had paid particular attention to it until we shared that moment. That was in 2011 and I felt the same in 2012, 2013, and 2014. This year, in 2015, I’m feeling it a full five weeks earlier than I have in the last several years, and so are my friends who are attuned to the cycles of the planet.
A year ago, I began walking at sunrise every morning instead of during the day or evenings, partly to avoid the heat and partly to avoid certain people I don’t want to run into on my usual daily miles. A year later, to the day, the sunrises and the sunrise walks feel different to me and, again, I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.Last week I had an epiphany, the kind that makes you wonder how you missed it before. I had just come from watching a lecture on climate change and how to use this particular knowledge in planning national policy, economic strategy, and military strategy–for the US and well as for other countries. This was not a lecture about politicians’ theories or tree-huggers. It was part of a course to help me understand how changes going on around the planet will have a long-term effect on my country’s responsibilities–both globally and to its own citizens.
Although I was familiar with many of the climate change events presented in the lecture, as documented through the major news networks, I also heard things I had not heard before, including how some of these events are connected and a timeline for dealing with them. Details about island nations that are sinking into extinction somehow reminded me of the number of times in the last year that I’ve looked at my yard after a thunderstorm and wondered how it is that it was flooding in places it never had before in the twenty years I’ve lived in this house. Then it struck me that it wasn’t just my backyard that seemed different but the sky above as well. Only, again, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
A few days later, in a small group gathering, a friend of mine asked, very tentatively, “So, um, has anyone else noticed that the sun isn’t in the same place anymore?” Her words hit me right between the eyes. She wasn’t talking about the time of the year or where the sun is in the sky at the summer solstice versus the winter solstice, but where the sun is now versus where it was a year ago, or two years ago, or ten years ago. The same day, an almost identical discussion was fostered by Kelley Harrell of Soul Intent Arts.
Note: I have been aware to the change in the tilt of the earths axis since The December 2004 tsunami. I do not know to what degree but I had also heard that it was the electromagnetic pole that was and still is shifting. Since I last heard and if it kept shifting to the right or the east, Russia would become the next true north pole.
Hi dear friends and followers. Today's topic is not only about those who are sensitive to outside stimuli, 'empathy,' but how observant you are as well. Do you notice the minute details of change? Thank you for visiting and reading my blog
Celebrating Independence Day but feeling Autumn in the air
As I write this in early July, the heat index is 110 degrees but it feels like fall. Energetically, that is. Temperature-wise, it’s hot as hell outside and the hottest weather is yet to come.
Autumn is my favorite season and maybe that’s why I noticed this first, before I noticed the changes in the sky. Where I live, the temperature does not begin to cool until late September, sometimes even early October, though I remember as a teenager in the late ‘70s wearing stylish tweed suits to the first September football games and being quite comfortable on a nippy Friday night.
But the energy of fall is very different from the weather of fall.
Autumn, to me, has the energetic feel–for lack of a better term–of lushness and abundance. It is the time in my life when I have most often fallen in love. I grew up on a farm, attuned to the seasons and how each felt. Not just the weather but the life force of each season. I always laugh at Northerners who tell me that the South doesn’t have real seasons. There may not be snow and the trees may change color only during Thanksgiving week, but energetically there are most definitely four distinct seasons.
My spiritual path for the past twenty years has also been closely aligned to the seasons and the subtle pulse of the Earth. I have often wondered, on nights when I stared up at the sky or into the full moon, what will become of future generations, presumably living on other planets and not attuned to the Earth? Will they feel the seasons? Will they miss the moon without knowing what is missing from their lives? How will the lack of connection to this planet affect them–both on a psychological and spiritual basis? Are we not all connected to the sphere on which we spin on a core DNA level? All of us sharing common ancestors? Our bodies composed of and returning to the soil of this Earth?
When I first noticed the feel of autumn in scorching early August a few years ago, I was fortunate enough to have several friends who heard me mention it and agreed. They were a Wiccan, a Druid, a gardener, and a farmer. All of them had noted the same thing, the feeling that autumn had come early, very early, even though the weather was still brutally hot and humid. It was an odd thing for all of us to note independently, though none of us had paid particular attention to it until we shared that moment. That was in 2011 and I felt the same in 2012, 2013, and 2014. This year, in 2015, I’m feeling it a full five weeks earlier than I have in the last several years, and so are my friends who are attuned to the cycles of the planet.
This past year, something more than the season has felt off. Even the days feel off. Other “sensitives” agree, although none of us can easily find the words to explain exactly what this “offness” is—only that we feel it.
A year ago, I began walking at sunrise every morning instead of during the day or evenings, partly to avoid the heat and partly to avoid certain people I don’t want to run into on my usual daily miles. A year later, to the day, the sunrises and the sunrise walks feel different to me and, again, I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.Last week I had an epiphany, the kind that makes you wonder how you missed it before. I had just come from watching a lecture on climate change and how to use this particular knowledge in planning national policy, economic strategy, and military strategy–for the US and well as for other countries. This was not a lecture about politicians’ theories or tree-huggers. It was part of a course to help me understand how changes going on around the planet will have a long-term effect on my country’s responsibilities–both globally and to its own citizens.
Although I was familiar with many of the climate change events presented in the lecture, as documented through the major news networks, I also heard things I had not heard before, including how some of these events are connected and a timeline for dealing with them. Details about island nations that are sinking into extinction somehow reminded me of the number of times in the last year that I’ve looked at my yard after a thunderstorm and wondered how it is that it was flooding in places it never had before in the twenty years I’ve lived in this house. Then it struck me that it wasn’t just my backyard that seemed different but the sky above as well. Only, again, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
A few days later, in a small group gathering, a friend of mine asked, very tentatively, “So, um, has anyone else noticed that the sun isn’t in the same place anymore?” Her words hit me right between the eyes. She wasn’t talking about the time of the year or where the sun is in the sky at the summer solstice versus the winter solstice, but where the sun is now versus where it was a year ago, or two years ago, or ten years ago. The same day, an almost identical discussion was fostered by Kelley Harrell of Soul Intent Arts.
Below is an interesting article on this topic.
https://axischange.wordpress.com/2014/03/09/axis-shift-alters-sun-position-weather/
Yes, sometimes the collective consciousness has to kick me in the butt–or between the eyes–to get me to pay attention.
I’ve not been as attuned to the sun as I am to other heavenly bodies and I think that’s partly because, with many of my days, I’ve been at work before sunrise and at work late after the sun has set. I’m not in the same place every day, let alone in the same place at the same time every year to mark its passing.
I’ve not been as attuned to the sun as I am to other heavenly bodies and I think that’s partly because, with many of my days, I’ve been at work before sunrise and at work late after the sun has set. I’m not in the same place every day, let alone in the same place at the same time every year to mark its passing.
With the moon, I have had a few, again, odd notices of something different–and I hate to use the word odd but it fits better than any other I can think of. I’ve followed the movements of the moon for most of my life but especially over the last decade since I built my first backyard fire pit where I often spend at least a little time on full moon nights enjoying the solitude and connection with Nature. Due North of my fire circle is a flagstone where I usually stand when I stare up at the night sky in reverence for this magnificent creation above my head, around me, and beneath my feet.
This is the stone I’ve stood on for over 10 years, so I know the differences in where the celestial bodies are at different times of the month and of the year. It’s so much a habit that I don’t pay much attention anymore. I’m not always out there at the same time of night but several times in the past year, the moon has not been where I expected it to be. I’ve always been able to find its arc easily in relation to particular trees in my yard, and it’s been behind different trees. I had noticed but then, not really noticed enough for the difference to hold my attention after I went back inside and resumed my busy life.
To be continued
Thank you very much again, dear friends, for visiting my blog. Please share your thoughts with us, if you will. Have a great day.
✿ڰۣ❤In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady❤ڰۣ✿
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