His eyes. I just remember thinking to myself, keep looking into his eyes. Those deep, hidden, haunted, ethereal eyes. Ashen eyes that matched the sky before the storm. And then, before the next breath, I was pulled into the dance. Drowning in his words. His hand on my shoulder. Shaking me. Pouring his energy into mine. Keeping me focused on his words. The pain and passion behind those voices were overwhelming.
"How can you not do this! Your Grandfather was a Minister!"
Then, as quickly as they appeared, the elderly man once again stood before me. Telling his story. No one but me was hidden in the storm. I smile at his history. His gentle face. His calm eyes. He moved on. Another stood before me. Giving me no time to process. No time to think. No time to breath. No time.
It has been days since the occurrence, encounter, possession and I can still feel the trembles rise within me. I wonder if it is the same for everyone who encounters them or am I alone. After all these years. After all I have seen. After all I have experienced. I should know. I should see it coming. I should be okay. But even now, as I type this, I tremble.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Letting Go
I read somewhere that sleeping is a way of dying and allowing some part of our old selves to fade away and be reborn anew again in the morning when we wake. The trick is to hold onto the new and not allow the old to return. Lucid dreaming is one way of doing this.
I was chasing down old friends last night in my dreams. First it was Tina my best friend from High School. I haven't seen her in decades and we didn't part on horrible terms but somehow, in this dream, I dredged up an old grudge that I thought never really bothered me any more. But here I am, reliving the emotions all over again. She did not last long in the dream. Perhaps as long as I needed for the knowledge, acceptance and releasing of that grudge.
In the very next moment there was an older woman. I could only feel that it was my Grandmother from my Dad's side. When I think back she seems to have taken the form of the only picture I have of her. She was here to visit and she brought Niles, an old friend from my early twenties. I was in a rush to preen for him. What slowed me down was when I was dressing, she stood there, next to me, in a disapproving way. Asking if that is how I would dress before him. With only a T-shirt on to hold up my breasts. When I looked down they were lopsided and I could not get them straight. Now that I look up breasts in dream interpretation books they mean nurturing, love. So am I out of balance?
Grandmother tells me that Niles is a hairdresser. Which doesn't surprise me but in reality it should. He was a drummer in the day, a HOT drummer for that matter. I love the boys in the band after all. So here before me is sat a sack of lemon grass and spearmint. I am told this is what he uses as his shampoo. So, wanting to be close to him, I snatch up a hand full and put it in a glass of water to use in my hair. Now lemongrass is used as a wash for repelling serpents. As well as aiding in lust, fidelity, honesty, growth, strength, physic powers and purification. Spearmint is for healing of the lungs and for sharpening mental health.
I really never get close to him or alone with him no matter how hard I tried. Which always seems to happen in my dreams. I never can get myself close to the object I desire. Whatever it may be. So we end up in a room of newbie stylist which he is here to school. I find myself one of them and can not do the job. He reassures me that I will do great and says goodbye. There I stand, letting him walk away, again. However, this time I come to my senses and chase after him. I catch him at the bottom of the stairs in the parking lot. I run him to him, all the while thinking of what I should do. It was so lucid. The choices were mine to make. And, finally, I chose to kiss him. After all these years of regret. But was even more amazing than that is that I didn't feel anything. Nothing. After all these years there was never really any connection.
To hold on to the past is one of the loads that can burden us, make us sick and hold us back. Even if we do not know that we carry it with us. I now consciously allow that bit of myself to die away from last nights sleep. Allowing a small rebirth of myself. Less burdened from the past. I am letting go and moving on.
I was chasing down old friends last night in my dreams. First it was Tina my best friend from High School. I haven't seen her in decades and we didn't part on horrible terms but somehow, in this dream, I dredged up an old grudge that I thought never really bothered me any more. But here I am, reliving the emotions all over again. She did not last long in the dream. Perhaps as long as I needed for the knowledge, acceptance and releasing of that grudge.
In the very next moment there was an older woman. I could only feel that it was my Grandmother from my Dad's side. When I think back she seems to have taken the form of the only picture I have of her. She was here to visit and she brought Niles, an old friend from my early twenties. I was in a rush to preen for him. What slowed me down was when I was dressing, she stood there, next to me, in a disapproving way. Asking if that is how I would dress before him. With only a T-shirt on to hold up my breasts. When I looked down they were lopsided and I could not get them straight. Now that I look up breasts in dream interpretation books they mean nurturing, love. So am I out of balance?
Grandmother tells me that Niles is a hairdresser. Which doesn't surprise me but in reality it should. He was a drummer in the day, a HOT drummer for that matter. I love the boys in the band after all. So here before me is sat a sack of lemon grass and spearmint. I am told this is what he uses as his shampoo. So, wanting to be close to him, I snatch up a hand full and put it in a glass of water to use in my hair. Now lemongrass is used as a wash for repelling serpents. As well as aiding in lust, fidelity, honesty, growth, strength, physic powers and purification. Spearmint is for healing of the lungs and for sharpening mental health.
I really never get close to him or alone with him no matter how hard I tried. Which always seems to happen in my dreams. I never can get myself close to the object I desire. Whatever it may be. So we end up in a room of newbie stylist which he is here to school. I find myself one of them and can not do the job. He reassures me that I will do great and says goodbye. There I stand, letting him walk away, again. However, this time I come to my senses and chase after him. I catch him at the bottom of the stairs in the parking lot. I run him to him, all the while thinking of what I should do. It was so lucid. The choices were mine to make. And, finally, I chose to kiss him. After all these years of regret. But was even more amazing than that is that I didn't feel anything. Nothing. After all these years there was never really any connection.
To hold on to the past is one of the loads that can burden us, make us sick and hold us back. Even if we do not know that we carry it with us. I now consciously allow that bit of myself to die away from last nights sleep. Allowing a small rebirth of myself. Less burdened from the past. I am letting go and moving on.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Rough Waters
When the decisions are a struggle
and the light begins to fade
there is a candle in the dark
to light the way
and the light begins to fade
there is a candle in the dark
to light the way
I have struggled through the Fall and buried myself in Mother Earth. Only to come to the understanding that It has never been a favorable season for me. An awakening long needed. There was no spiritual enlightenment. Only the mundane. The reality of life lived in this world. The realization of the connection between me and the rest of everything else. This was a shock and I mourned the loss of something that I truly never had.
In the cold Winter months I celebrate the element Water and all the emotions that flow within it. I knew this path I chose to take two seasons ago but I did not know the deep changes that resided in it. And now that I am here, lost in emotion, I know why it has taken me so long to take this journey. It is life changing, heart wrenching, all consuming. I breath, eat and live as every thought and action immerses itself in the elements.
I chose water in the form of ice for the season of Winter. Ice blue in color. Frozen in time. My house drips of hand made snow flakes to remind myself, that although I live in the desert, somewhere time is at a stand still. This is how I would prefer my lesson in water be. Still. Empty. This is how I prefer my emotions to be.
However, water is powerful, raging, transforming, cleansing, ever changing, soothing, drowning. There is play time in the shallows and no air in the deep dark hallows of hidden emotions. Demanding time. Demanding honesty. Demanding all of me.
The waters only rage over rough terrain. Terrain that perhaps need to be smoothed. Places where new paths need to be carved. There, in the wake of the storm, when the flood is over, will lay a shallow pool of cool, calm, refreshing blue water to gaze into and reflect upon.
In the cold Winter months I celebrate the element Water and all the emotions that flow within it. I knew this path I chose to take two seasons ago but I did not know the deep changes that resided in it. And now that I am here, lost in emotion, I know why it has taken me so long to take this journey. It is life changing, heart wrenching, all consuming. I breath, eat and live as every thought and action immerses itself in the elements.
I chose water in the form of ice for the season of Winter. Ice blue in color. Frozen in time. My house drips of hand made snow flakes to remind myself, that although I live in the desert, somewhere time is at a stand still. This is how I would prefer my lesson in water be. Still. Empty. This is how I prefer my emotions to be.
However, water is powerful, raging, transforming, cleansing, ever changing, soothing, drowning. There is play time in the shallows and no air in the deep dark hallows of hidden emotions. Demanding time. Demanding honesty. Demanding all of me.
The waters only rage over rough terrain. Terrain that perhaps need to be smoothed. Places where new paths need to be carved. There, in the wake of the storm, when the flood is over, will lay a shallow pool of cool, calm, refreshing blue water to gaze into and reflect upon.
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