Eric Wenninger – Meanderings of a traveling mind

ERIC WENNINGER

The Benefactor

September 21, 2024

I am not one for astrology, but sometimes the movement of energy around us surprises me. In my life I value humility above all else. It’s a quality I strive for because of how positively it shapes your ability to learn, and the way you interact with the people and the world around you. Humility leads me to believe in a higher power. Whether you call this higher power “God” or “The Universe” or “Mother Nature,” there are times its movement can inspire a deep sense of awe in you. And I believe, as imperfect humans, we are meant to be in awe. There are things in this world that we do not know or understand, and being in awe is an appropriate response, even as we put forth great efforts to understand them.

Last night, Angie and I took a much needed break and went to the local brewery to play cribbage.

Our cribbage board as we approach the finish. I wonder, “who won?”

Angie had brought The Intuition Oracle – 52 Cards & Guidebook to Help Access Your Inner Wisdom, and we each drew a card. As higher powers would have it, I drew “The Benefactor,” which came with the following affirmation written on the backside:

I enjoy life now as I take steps to realize my new tomorrow.

Having stepped out of my professional career this past summer so I could be a support to my wife as she starts medical school in Grenada, this seemed like an affirmation I needed to hear. I have struggled with finding my purpose in this beautiful, yet oftentimes challenging place. The word “benefactor” also immediately resonated with me, I think because I’m stepping into a more supportive role toward Angie, and in many ways, I’m a benefactor of her being a student here at SGU.

The Benefactor

For each card, there is a corresponding section in the guidebook that contains two parts: The Art of the Matter, which describes the image on the card, and The Heart of the Matter, which gets into its meaning for you. After considering my card and its affirmation, Angie had me look up “The Benefactor” in the guidebook and read what it said out loud.

The Art of the Matter

There is a lot going on in the card’s image, but the following parts are the ones that really spoke to me in my current state of transitioning to something new. The following is a summary of what I read.

The winged Egyptian figure in the center is an angelic messenger to tell you that:

you are on the right path and will have the opportunity to attain the goal you desire sooner, perhaps, than you thought you could.

The strange form of the angel is to remind you that opportunities also come in many forms. You need to:

allow your higher self to use its infinite creativity to bring you your goal in its own way and time.

The angel is carrying jewels in her basket. Just like jewels take time to form within the earth, so:

the goal you seek requires patience over time.

The scarab beetles in the border represent Khepera, the Egyptian Sun god:

who was so powerful that he rolled the ball of the Sun across the sky the way beetles rolled balls of dirt across the ground.

At the top of the card there is a bridge that is connecting the two moons, representing the passage of time within a month. They two symbols under the bridge are known as the Eye of Horus:

They are a strong reminder to do good deeds, for the quality of your reward will depend on the energy you put out now.

These images were powerful to me because they helped me to clearly visualize some of the negative emotions and mental blocks I’ve been feeling since coming to Grenada, and they also revealed a path for overcoming them. They helped confirm for me the need to put in daily effort to reach my goals, which are valid. These goals will come to fruition over time if I remain dedicated and patient — and I have time here to see them through, time I didn’t have in the past.

A very bright moon in Grenada — a constant reminder of the movement of time

The Heart of the Matter

This section sums up some ideas to reflect on moving forward. The following is a summary of what I read for my card:

Sometimes everything is going just as it should be, even if it doesn’t appear that way on the surface and some of the problems you may be experiencing are really there for your own good.
(…)
Your greatest challenge now is to maintain a positive attitude when things do not appear to be going the way you want them to. All you must do is follow your heart, taking small steps forward on your path, and do what you know is right. Allow your intuition to work unfettered by the false belief that it is realistic to doubt yourself and your right to live a life of quality and meaning as you define it.

Again, there’s struggling for a positive attitude and the patience to see a thing through. By the time I had finished reading, I was weeping. Just full on weeping at a brewery in front of a cribbage board and my wife, as if I had just lost the game, which I had. In the whole stack of 52 cards, I don’t think I could have picked a card that better spoke to my current emotional state than “The Benefactor” card. I realized that I had been holding onto so many built-up insecurities and doubts inside of me. It was a cathartic moment and I’m humbly grateful to the higher power that brought it to me.
Crossing Thresholds

September 13, 2024

Today’s newsletter is about crossing thresholds. It starts:

Taking risks in life is hard. You have to cross the threshold between what is known, well-documented, and comfortable; and step into territory that’s foreign, obscure, and uneasy. Whenever I have started afresh in a new place, I tend to initially latch onto those things that make me feel comfortable, before fully stepping across that threshold. Music is a big help for me in this way and so is, it would seem, Harry Potter. When I studied abroad in Spain, I read the first Harry Potter book in Spanish before immersing myself in my new Spanish community. In anticipation of moving to Grenada, I bought a Kindle Paperwhite, which included a 3-month free subscription to Kindle Unlimited. The last book in the Harry Potter series was available to download so I’ve been enjoying the comforts of reading a beloved story every night before going to bed. It’s the perfect anecdote to the daily struggles that inevitably come with adjusting to life in a new place. I was reminded of several scenes that are missing from the movie version of the book, which prompted me to stumble upon this video that looks at two such deleted scenes.

It continues:

Both feature a character crossing a threshold, physically and symbolically, to meet another character where they are at. To take a risk and enter an unfamiliar space in an attempt to bridge differences and create a mutual understanding. I think it’s a great visual for reflecting on what thresholds we might cross, be they cultural, political, relational, or something else all together. Taking risks like these do not have to be enormous and completely life-altering. They can be small and achievable by anyone, anywhere. This makes them no less profound. I love this 72kilos post which provides another great visual for crossing thresholds.

Translation: I think completely different than you, but that doesn’t prevent me from drawing near to you. Image by 72kilos.

You can read the whole newsletter here.
Lonesome Valley

September 7, 2024

Stepping out of a life that has become your normal is always a jolting experience. You almost instantly realize all the basic routines and rituals of day-to-day living that you’ve taken for granted. On a deeper level, you physically leave your people, your support network and the relationships that bring you meaning and significance.

One of Angie’s routines in Wausau was teaching yoga on Sunday mornings. So this past Sunday morning we did some yoga poolside, Angie instructing as the pair of us moved and found breath. Angie prompted to think of a word to serve as a mantra that would set the tone for the week. As I gazed out on the gorgeous Grenadian landscape before me, with its mountainous peaks and valleys, all I could think of was the song, “Lonesome Valley,” from the movie, O Brother, Where are Thou?. In low and rolling voices, The Fairfield Four sing:

You got to go to the lonesome valley
You got to go there by yourself
Nobody else can go for you
You got to go there by yourself

This, of course, is a song about death. “Death” — maybe not the best choice for a mantra. But as we continued to do yoga the song’s refrain played out over and over again in my head: you got to go there by yourself. To be clear, I know that I’m not here by myself. I am married after all and I live with Angie in this new place. But the demands of medical school are intense, and the reality is that the past few weeks I’ve spent much of my time alone while Angie is in class or studying. And Grenada is, in fact, and island, the perfect symbol of how I’ve been feeling: isolated and alone.

But I embrace my solitude for the time its mine to bear.I think that being alone is especially beneficial during times like this when you need to adapt to an unfamiliar environment and new community of people. To be alone heightens your senses, allowing you to more acutely observe all that’s going on around you and inside of you. There’s less conversation filling your thoughts and fewer distractions vying for your attention. Solitude affords you the space you need to grow and acclimate. As an introvert, I benefit from my seasons of solitude and even look forward to them.

Music is a great friend to me when solitude loses its luster and fades to loneliness. I like how Jeff Tweedy describes this impact of music in his book, World Within a Song:

Almost all songs function in a way that consoles the listener with a brief but vital companionship. In essence taking the place of another human in the room — another consciousness filling the void of isolation. It’s a tender relationship regardless of a song’s musical nature. From the bleakest black metal to the sweetest pop confection. The power to embrace the lonely is always at the heart of the bargain.

Adjusting to a new life requires patience. Patience and faith that Angie and I will find our people here, and also meaningful moments with one another. Life gets so much more messy and beautiful when you occupy space with others in an intentional way. Real meaning, I believe, is created in community, when the barriers come down and you see people for who they are and they see you. At some point you need to take the risks and get in the game. Engage with life. As Lucy puts it, you need involvement.

Being alone and being in community both inspire growth in their own way. I know that next week is a new week and one that will bring a new mantra.
Cannonballs and Climbing Hills

August 3, 2024

In anticipation of our move to Grenada, where my wife, Angie, will begin medical school, she’s been climbing our local ski hill at Rib Mountain State Park on a daily basis. She says it makes her feel grounded. I like her so sometimes I get grounded by climbing the mountain too. It’s a workout!

Summer days in Wisconsin are hot and humid, so we’ve also been frequenting my parents’ pool. After a day of work or packing up our house (or climbing a mountain), Angie will suggest we go for a float. But rather than ease her way into the water, she’s lately taken to doing cannonballs.

It’s revealing that on the precipice of a huge change for our family, the two activities that are putting my wife most at peace are climbing mountains and doing cannonballs. It’s gotten me thinking a lot about movement.

Life is composed of dualities. We think of these dualities as opposed to one another but often they work together to help us find balance. Angie’s been finding her peace through rising (climbing a mountain) and falling (doing cannonballs). Rising and falling.

Rising is a movement that represents determined effort. You have to take it step by step, focusing on the tasks in front of you. As we prepare to move our household, it seems like we’re climbing a mountain. The same can be said for becoming a doctor. The end goal may seem daunting but all you can do is focus on the immediate task ahead; the next step or the work of the day. Eventually you get to the peak.

Falling is a movement that represents letting go. You have to jump in. You have to leave the firm ground of your comfort behind, facing the unknown and immersing yourself in new surroundings.

I like how Amanda Shires describes falling in her song, “The Drop and Lift”:

A swarm of sparrows rising over a cane field
Hearts ascend like that
Falling is the closest to flying
I believe we’ll ever get, we’ll ever get

Contrast this to how Stevie Nicks describes climbing a mountain in the Fleetwood Mac song, “Landslide”:

I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
‘Til the landslide brought me down

In speaking of love and relationships, these songs highlight the fact that dualities are not always as they seem. They speak of the mysterious nature of rising and falling. Of looking at life from below, moving upwards; and of looking at life from above, moving downwards. Of climbing mountains and doing cannonballs.

I think the lesson is this:

Whatever the mountain you face, keep climbing it, because eventually you’ll reach the summit. But also remember to take a leap every once in a while, knowing that a fall will come shortly after, because in falling we allow ourselves to fly (or, in Angie’s case, swim).
Say Goodbye to Moco

July 26, 2024
We weren’t supposed to be a cat family. Before getting married I told my future wife that I never wanted a cat, that I’m extremely allergic to cats, that a cat would leave traces of cat hair and urine throughout our house. A month into our marriage we had a cat.

We misguidedly let our 3-year-old son name our cat and he joyfully proclaimed that we would call her “Booger.” I immediately had the thought that “Moco,” or booger in Spanish, sounded a lot better. I thought it maybe exuded more of a coffee shop feel because of its proximity to “mocha.” After a small amount of coaxing we were able to get him to agree to the suggestion.

Moco has been a part of our family now for sixteen years and I’ve officially become a cat person. But really, Moco had me converted during her first year with us. The epitome of a “curious cat” and a “scaredy cat,” Moco is easy to love, her Garfield-face always looking back at you judgingly.

Moco recently inspired me to start a list of things you should never do. The first thing:
1. Don’t hug your cat and then go change a record.
Moco is on my mind because this past Sunday we said goodbye to her. My wife and I are moving out of the country and made the difficult decision to not take her with us. Fortunately we were able to find her an amazing family to stay with while we’ll be gone the next two years. So it’s not goodbye goodbye. Still, saying goodbye to her was hard. She’s getting older and we don’t know if we’ll see her again.

I’m not sure why but I’ve had Billy Joel on the mind too. It might have to do with a comment a middle school teacher friend of mine made a few weekends ago. He was talking about unexpected things students say and recounted a first day of school scenario in which he asked a student, “How was your summer?” The student responded, “You know? This summer I really got into Billy Joel.”

So shortly after we said goodby to Moco, the following Billy Joel song popped into my head:

Goodbye Moco, goodbye my baby.