Tag Archives: dreams

The Asking

Standard

Who am I to dream,
to believe these dreams could be fulfilled?
Who am I to envision,
to see myself serving in a bigger way?
Who am I to imagine,
to fantasize that the Divine wants me
just as much as I want it?
I have no idea who I am,
but I know that I am not
who I once thought I was.
God bless this journey
toward the unknowable destiny
of my dreams, visions and heart.
Bless the questions that I ask,
that they may swell into
wide open doorways of possibility.
Let me surrender into this process
of asking again and again,
Who am I
until someday
I can understand
it’s the asking—
not the knowing—
that calls life
back home to life.

Answer the Call

Standard

Be bold when it comes to your dreams.
They need to see you mean business.
Otherwise, they might fly off
in search of someone who’ll
take the chance you were offered
but were too afraid to take.
Friends, you can have your excuses,
or you can have your success,
but you can’t have both.
Looking back on your life
as you lay there on your deathbed,
what will you want to see
written into the record of your years?
Let that question drive you forward
as you answer the call to live your dreams.

I Remembered

Standard

In the midst of chaos…
connection.
Reaching out,
seeing my plight
is actually quite common,
finding relief in this,
the shared humanity.
During a night of insomnia,
for one brief moment
finding sleep,
gifted with a lucid dream.
Inner self reaching out,
finding me…
awakening my mind
within my sleeping body,
exhilaration,
more connection.
The voice said,
Don’t worry about your goals
and your effort…
if  you try the same way as before
it will turn out as it did before.
Just let go and see what happens.
I stopped trying to fly
high enough to see the face of God,
I let go,
felt myself being pulled
up and over through the air
by a powerful force,
much greater than my small will.
There were many people in my dream
at first I was afraid of some of them,
men, who looked unsavory, unkempt,
my mind decided they must be criminals
and I therefore must be in danger.
The voice spoke again.
If you are afraid,
it is because you aren’t looking closely.
You are believing your thoughts
instead of seeing reality.
Look again.
So I looked again,
and saw friendly faces
smiling warmly at me,
handsome faces, welcoming,
strong and kind.
The fear was always in my mind.
More upward movement
and I was surrounded by
people celebrating,
much jubilation,
and I let them know
they were an invention
of my imagination.
They looked amused,
so I showed them my proof.
See how your face is changing?
See how the words on the sign
are moving, never the same?
You are my dream.
I have created this.
And still there was so much warmth
coming from them,
I had no choice but to relax
and enjoy myself.
I awoke within my body
and I remembered.

The Dream of Existence

Standard

I wake up from sleeping
remembering a dream
about finding something I had lost.
It’s early, before 5,
and my mind is hazy,
unsure of where to draw the line
between reality and the dream state.
I walk through the day as if in a dream;
sometimes I catch myself
being swept away in a current of thought
and I realize that it has been over an hour
since I have been truly present,
truly awake and aware of my surroundings.
My children remind me
with a flash of their eyes
and a flurry of movement
that I have been somewhere, not here;
they bring me back.
But the pull to stay asleep in the dream
is strong
and like a terrible force of nature,
a giant wave,
a landslide,
a tornado,
I am caught again
in some dreamy, quasi reality state,
believing what my thoughts tell me,
confusing them for reality.
Dreams can be very convincing.
I think a lot of my practice must be
learning true discernment
and relaxing into
the dream of existence.

NaPoWriMo Day 11: Le Mélézin

Standard

I come back to this place again and again
in my dreams, the dreams I hold in my heart.
Green grass mown by munching goats and sheep
their bells sounding a right racket as they amble along
tracks they’ve worn into the mountain meadow.
I look up and see a crystalline blue sky.
I look out from where I’m sitting and see
more mountains than I can count and the city
where I left my heart nestled in the valley below.
I take off my shoes and dip my toes into the ice cold water
of the stream that has gathered momentum
from its origins in the valley behind me.
A bit of emmental cheese, a bit of dark chocolate,
a hunk of baguette, a sip of water
and now my hands are drumming this drum
I lugged with me from the valley below.
The breath of summer and the scent of wildflowers
caress my soul as the wind whispers through the conifers.
I have endured such heartbreak.

All We Could Ever Want

Standard

Let them rise and let them fall
like the waves of the ocean–
they will come to you your whole life,
it is in our nature.

To be human is to have wants.
To be human is to experience limits,
and if you are persistent,
you might develop the drive to rise above them.

The question isn’t whether we should want or not want–
it’s more about bringing awareness to what we want,
and discerning between a passing fancy and a dream dear to your heart.

It is more about meeting our deepest dreams with awareness,
and mindfully directing our energies to bring ourselves
to the place of fulfillment,
Not with the fancy cars or the big mansions or the dream vacations
(Although there is absolutely nothing wrong with those),

But fulfillment in a place that can’t be seen-
in the character that has been tempered within the fire of great challenge,
by the spirit that has been strengthened by overcoming adversity,
by grace that rushes in to let you know how absolutely loved you are,
by the realization that all we could ever want is right here, in this moment.

Why Am I Writing?

Standard

Last night was rough. I was awakened multiple times by my husband, who is slowly recovering from the mother of all colds. The tossing, the turning, the need to get up and dig in the medicine cabinet for a Sucrets…poor guy. As I was awakened the third time that night, I was certainly feeling sorry for him, but now I was also feeling sorry for myself. There I was, awake at 2:41 am with no immediate hope of getting back to sleep, so I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and started catching up on emails. A dear friend had sent me a message with this post about starting a blog and becoming a writer.  The post came from  this website established in 2006,  called “Live Your Legend.” It offers tools to help people make positive changes in the world by discovering and doing meaningful work that they love. Sounds great, yes?

At 2:41 am, I was reading about how a blog can be a steppingstone to discovering what is really important and meaningful in one’s life, finding true clarity about one’s passions, and taking concrete steps to harness those passions and create something great. Blogs can help writers develop thinking and communication skills, and writing regularly, these writers can become adept at getting the point across clearly, concisely, efficiently.  When one gets one’s point across clearly, concisely, and efficiently, things change. Big things happen. So I was kind of becoming fired up, thinking, “Wow, my little yoga mom blog might actually be helping me discover what it is I want to do with the life energy I have, beyond what I’ve already been doing? I might uncover a passion I didn’t know existed?”

The author of the post, Scott Dinsmore, referred those readers who already have a blog to yet another post–all about creating a blog that matters, a blog that achieves some purpose. Read it here. So yes, there I was, now at 2:50am, asking myself if my blog matters, if it is achieving a purpose, if it is helping anyone.

Gosh. Gee. Ummm.

I originally began this blog as a project for myself, because I had been hiding from my writing for far too long. For some years now, I have been fervently wanting to write in a more serious (dare I say professional?) capacity, yet I never have been wholly successful at pushing through the resistance that inevitably arises whenever I sit down with a few thoughts. I wanted this blog to be a pressure free space to practice and explore and–even if other people might read it–I didn’t want to think too much about my potential audience, because I knew that this kind of thinking would send me into a spiral of too afraid to write/don’t bother/they won’t like what you write/what you think isn’t important.  A shut down, drab, bleak, claustrophobic place, a no room for creativity place. Yuck. No thanks.

Within a day or so of starting the blog, I actually had a follower. And then another. Gee, really? I’m surprised anybody is following this thing, it’s so full of my personal observations and details about my daily life. My aim was to link what I’ve learned from my yoga practice to these real life, moment to moment experiences so that I could use them as a means for personal growth and evolution. If this act of sharing my experiences helps just one person know that they are not alone in their challenges, not alone in their quest to find meaning in the little details of daily life, I’ll be thrilled; but beyond that I just want to validate my own experiences, let them take on the importance that I assign to them, and perhaps even lessen their importance as I practice some detachment from them. Because sometimes I’m a drama queen. Sometimes I blow things out of proportion. It has been known to happen.

The medium of the written word has always been a safe place (the only place?) for me to explore my thinking; I’ve kept a journal since I was in second grade, and became a serious journal writer in high school, following a dear English teacher’s six week assignment to write daily.  Decades later, I have amassed volumes upon volumes of my writing, which live ingloriously packed in boxes in the basement. These volumes rarely see the light of day. Poor little lonely forgotten journals. I think of them like abandoned children, and fear that they might morph into Golem-like creatures at some point. Precious.

I’ve been writing forever, taking solace in the freedom of the blank page, but have never had the courage to really share my writing, because, jeez–it’s just so personal! My journals have been a place to write out my ugliest of thoughts, to be depressed as hell, to be angry, petty, and resentful, to dream big, to celebrate, to fantasize and hope and remember, to be silly–and to be completely, utterly human. Completely utterly my self. No wonder I’ve hidden those journals in boxes. It’s frightening to show someone who you really are! It’s much more safe to hide. And now I’m asking myself–for whatever reason–to be daring, be courageous, be brave–and just share this writing, whatever it is, whatever it looks like, with whomever might want to read it? Yikes!

Writing in this public blog space has been a bit scary for me, for all the reasons I’ve been mentioning in my other posts about this project and my relationship to the creative process. Inner Critic. Perfectionist. Procrastinator. The fearful, vulnerable, lonely one. Note: The sceptic wishes to remind me that no one will read this anyway, and I’m fooling myself if I think otherwise. Thanks guys, real nice.

Scott Dinsmore, the fellow I mentioned above, the one whose website provides the tools for exploring and living out one’s unique purpose–he mentioned that deep down, many of us are afraid of success, and so we unconsciously do things to sabotage ourselves. His words jolted in me an awareness that coming to terms with this tendency for self-sabotage, and embracing a new definition of ourselves as visionaries who can make positive changes on this spaceship earth–this can unlock tremendous power and potential–so that ultimately we can move forward and realize our deepest dreams for ourselves and all beings.

Wow. Ok. Visionary? Deep dreams? Life’s purpose? Passion? Yes.

Why am I writing? Because, yes.