Tag Archives: dreams

morning pages

It’s cold in here. The furnace has been shut off (at least I think it has, because Tyler sent me a text telling me that he would shut it off because, well, it’s supposed to be summer shortly) but this morning it’s fucking cold in here, especially in my blanket skirt, because I just shlepped out of bed in my panties and my Grim “I’ve Come to Reap Your Immortal Soul” tank top and the blanket that I usually wrap around my ass should really just be replaced with a snuggie this morning because my arms and legs are cold.

Coffee is being made, because without coffee the neurons in my brain don’t fire nearly as well at this time of the morning. Seriously, what was I thinking, getting up this early? The cat woke me up at a little after five, and then I got up to pee and then I checked my phone and saw that I had a new Twitter follower and then I fell down the interwebz rabbit hole, all the way to James Franco (how the hell did I get here?!).

So, coffee. And the decision to do morning pages, because I miss Hollywood and California and staying at the Chateau even for a handful of weekends was like a little piece of dream, right there. I realize people are all just as skewed as I am, only in different ways. We all have a dream, and even when we find our way to it, it’s never what we think it is.

Which brings me around to desire. And my continuing saga of Desire Mapping. And.. but wait.. coffee…

Impossible blue sky. At least when it’s not smog filled. California. I ran away from it, tail between my legs. I failed at the one thing that I thought I would succeed at.

Ahhh… coffee (::sip, sip::)

I’m almost out (of coffee, I mean) – will have to walk across the street to Thrifty’s and get some more. Maybe I’ll even splurge and go next door to Starbucks instead because when the Nabob is going for almost ten bucks, seriously why bother with that when you can get a pound of Brezza Blend – that coffee is the shit? Except when you can’t because it’s almost double the cost of the Nabob.

Oh yeah… I was wondering why I’d gotten up so early. Must have been the post Chinese food induced early evening coma that knocked me out earlier than usual. That, and the cat and the bladder and James Franco. Man, I’m so out of the loop on the who’s-who… I’m going to have to run a search because I don’t even really know who he is, except that I read one of his blog posts and I like how he writes – at least how he wrote that one. And that I had some bungalow envy. Seriously – some of those cottages were bigger than the apartment we were renting in Irvine. I suppose if I could afford to regularly pay, per square foot, what I did for a weekend bungalow I’d’ve had a bigger place in Irvine, too.

Hey, I like my place here in PoMo though. It’s bigger, certs – room for all of my freakin’ books. Ahhh books. I seriously have issues. It’s a visual thing; a tactile thing; a sapiophile thing. But the rain… the rain undoes me. I don’t mind it occasionally but when people are dreading drought I silently, in my mind, give it a fist pump. Selfish. I know. How I survived 29 years of northeastern climate I haven’t a clue. Even then I dreamt of California. I remember. We were living in an upper floor triplex on Darveau and it must have been 1971-ish and I remember flipping through the pages of these geographical encyclopedias and looking at the demographics and climate and the GNP and determining that it was either Florida or California, or bust. Less Florida, because there was more humidity, weird critters and less Hollywood. Seriously. Hollywood was always a draw (even though I hadn’t a clue how I could possibly integrate into it whatever it produced-mostly produce, according to the books).

Now… I don’t like to think of it as an entity, Hollywood, at least not the part I’m interested in contributing to, but it probably is to some extent. When I consider what that feels like, I feel it slither through like something out of a Clive Barker novel.

Desire. Maps. Back to the topic. During our Spreecast meet yesterday, our little book group touched on dreams – at this point in the book the discussion touches on how we stifle, stuff and skew our desires, how there is almost a sense of embarrassment around enunciating them even to ourselves (well, the embarrassment is my own – but I don’t think I’m alone in this).

I’d mentioned that when I think about what I desire in my vision of a perfect life, some of the scenarios are so disparate that it would be difficult for them to coexist, or make sense that the same person is conceiving them both. For example: living off the grid, raising goats or alpacas or both (because YARN and CHEESE) and raising a few chickens and growing some veggies and learning how to can stuff and generally being self-sufficient… OR living in a beach house in Malibu or some other coastal (and possibly less prone to landslides) California property where I’d be free to write and create and collect Oscars for my efforts and BEACH.

They are not all that disparate though, since Kim could easily see how they related : freedom. Conveniently, I’d already written it down as one of my words, one of my core desired feeling words.

Freedom.

Of course I picked some other, more obscure words, because I’m a pompous ass, occasionally, and I can use Big Words even if you can’t. So, aside from freedom, they are:

Cohesion : Satiated : Vital : Cogent : Affluent

(I’ll probably change my mind, again, about these words and the ones that follow. I’m nothing if not consistent with my transience.)

The last one was ripped from Danielle’s list, because why not? Affluence brings freedom, even as it can take it away – I suppose it depends. The fluvial aspect of it, the allusion of flow, appeals to me. But perhaps ‘satiated’ covers just about everything, in a nutshell. I want enough, dammit, whatever enough is for me, even as it is prone to constant reassessment on what that might look like at any given time. Enough. MORE even.

I wonder where that comes from, that desire for enough? Weeeeeell… I know *where* it comes from, but examining the why and the how is my point now.

Fun, this, isn’t it? Seriously – I wear myself out sometimes. I’m nothing if not examined. All nooks and crannies get blinded by a flashlight beam, semi-regularly.

But still. (See that? I’ve started multiple sentences with a conjunction. Deal with it.)

I was surprised at the resistance I felt when airing, out loud, what I wanted. Even when I knew that the people I was airing them to would be supportive and uncritical.

Which leads me to…

Why is it that some people just adore going around with a pin just so they can burst people’s balloons? If people were empowered and supported throughout the building process, there isn’t much that they couldn’t accomplish, even their wildest notions. So what is it about those that feel compelled to tear down instead of build up? What is the appeal?

My mom was that person. She always told me to be realistic when I’d start tugging on the constraints of the small picture that she’d painted as my possibility. And the truth is, sometimes reality sucks. Also, though, while sheer escapism doesn’t liberate you from present circumstances, the ability to dream and imagine a more creative outcome, and a way to get there, requires the ability to step out of reality.

For a long time I’d all but lost that ability to step outside. I’m relieved to see that it’s coming back.

And now for some more coffee.

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not-so-morning pages… Easter Sunday

Tulip center

Being alone a lot creates a sort of inner conversational vacuum that begs to be filled.

It’s Easter. If I celebrated such things, it would be a meaningful day. Instead, as I have been flirting with the divine on a semi-regular basis these last couple of days anyway, today is no different than the last few, I suppose.

This, however, is a relatively new re-connection after a lengthy hiatus. It’s weird to reconnect after such a long time. It’s also weird (considering our previous hot and heavy association) that I hadn’t recognized it for what it was sooner, but The Universe has been longing for a chat – who am I to ignore the invitation once I recognize it for what it is?

Mind-boggling dreams are coming to me again. After a spell of not any of them, I am beginning to recall them once again. I recorded one from this morning in my dream log and as I always do, I wonder where they come from. Are they a mish-mash of a crossed wire jumble of memory fragments, wishes, thoughts, unprocessed emotions, or do they come from another source altogether, with soul messages that it would behoove me to pay attention to?

I watched a video this afternoon on YouTube addressing the sacredness of the male-female sexual union, and how as long as we relate to it in purely a physical gratification sense, we are missing the point (or perhaps the potential) of the immensely powerful raised energy that is involved in this alchemical process.

It also said that someone alone (male or female) can not hope to attain the level of exaltation achievable by a couple united in the act. If this were in fact to be the case, I am deeply saddened because I am now (and may well perhaps forevermore be) alone – uncoupled. I remain hopeful that my moving to a higher level of consciousness is not dependent upon a perpetual and current co-creator.

If that were the case, what happened to Mary Magdalene (assuming  – indulge me – that she a) existed; b) was his wife; and c) achieved higher consciousness through this union) after the passing of Jeshua? If the connection is established, or the process set into motion, can it be undone by disuse or the loss of the partner? I wonder.

Years ago I had a most profound experience. As with most of these experiences, they are a) difficult to articulate, and b) leave you wondering whether you had momentarily lost your mind or fabricated the whole experience (for whatever reason, and there could be many).

I was studying massage therapy and had spent a lot of time both giving and receiving massage. During my training I had to put in a certain number of hours of practicum upon volunteers in order to obtain my certificate. I have to be honest and note here that my marriage at the time was crumbling apart. This is not that story, though, so whatever was wrong with it, and whatever was the cause of the crumbling, I will not discuss it here.

Initially, what had prompted me to want to do massage work in the first place was to extend a portion of the public that was in dire need of, but never receiving, compassionate touch. I wanted to learn Touch Therapy so I could administer it in hospice or to the aged, those deemed untouchable or for the most part abandoned and forgotten. I did end up with a massage technician certificate – even worked for a little while trying to earn a living at it – but decided to return to the desk job that I had been doing prior to that, never carrying out the initial plan that had spurred me toward studying it in the first place. But this isn’t about that story, either.

This particular story speaks to an experience of awakening that I can’t really describe or explain, and a sort of connection with the divine which defiantly waxes and wanes like the tide but never completely abandons me.

Around the time I was in massage school and in the midst of the unravelling of my marriage as well a number of other stressors in my life, I had started to attend Lutheran church services with my husband’s aunt in an effort to regain a sense of balance. As my flailing marriage faltered further still, I had resorted to reaching outward because I was clearly unable to mend it by myself. The sermons brought me some peace, and moved me to tears regularly (but scripture – no matter whose it was – have done that to me all my life). I longed for the same spiritual transcendence that I experienced in a spiritual context within my marriage but simply didn’t know how to achieve it. So I grew focused more deeply on Christ, and transferred my loving heart energy that my husband chose not to accept to a higher place.

I will also admit that I was extremely attracted to someone that I has working with at the time. I was so keenly aware of my attraction to him that I was in a constant state of turmoil, embattled with what every cell was crying to reach out for and another part busily reigning it back in. If nothing else I was doggedly loyal to my marriage vows and not only was I a married party at the time, but for a good part of it so was he, though neither of us happily. He came to chat with me often, and in mutual commiseration we shared our confusion and the stories of our respective marital discord.

So when this fellow agreed to be a volunteer and receive an hour long massage session, I was both elated and terrified. I didn’t want him to know about how I felt, mostly because I was terrified that he would either a) act on it or b) reject me, which would lead to humiliation. This growing sense of intermingled desire and love grew into this huge ball of energy that I carried around with me all the time. I had to work really hard at pulling it all in and staying grounded, but what proceeded to transpire during an hour long practice massage session was something that I can’t really adequately put into words (though I will try).

Prior to starting massage work we were taught to ground ourselves, plugging in to the earth’s core and pulling in, with breath work, universal energy which would in turn get channelled from our hands. This process was put in place in order to keep our energy from getting depleted or so intermingled that we would be affected afterwards by what we picked up energetically from the people we worked on. During this session I did this as I normally would, but because of the previously mentioned added component, I also took care to filter my immense desire through my heart chakra prior to directing the energy out of my hands in order to imbue it with the highest possible integrity.

As the session progressed, a part of me felt like I wasn’t there anymore – even though I was grounded I felt pulled up to a higher state of energetic being-ness and so flooded with universal love that I was sure I must have been shining with the light of a million suns. It was mind boggling, to say the least.

Not long after this we both left the company we worked for and lost touch.

As I was rifling through an old business card holder last week, I found one with his name on it, and I wondered what had come of him so I did an online search. I was saddened to learn that he had passed on in 2010. I gathered from the obituary that he had remarried and had left behind a wife, a total of four children and a large extended family.

It is at this point that I will circle back around to the idea of the transcendental nature of sexuality, love and pairings. If indeed we are to only experience this sort of unity with a single person during a single lifetime, what happens when someone dies, or when the experience occurs with someone other than the person you are matrimonially tied to or who you have not even engaged with sexually? Is that even possible? And if it is, how is it any less valid as a spiritual awakening than one between a couple or those that they say the saints have experienced through ecstatic union with the divine?

In any case, something this profound changes you, maybe not immediately but certainly over time. Oh hell, definitely immediately too, but compounded with many other experiences – prior to and after this one – throughout the course of living our lives, I imagine how we perceive life on this earthly plane of existence must also subsequently change.

This leads me to the next bit of inner conversational vacuum. The video I watched spoke of how this third dimension was brought forth by the carnal indulgence in the pleasure brought forth by this rising creative energy rather than its more exalted spiritual cousin which focuses this same energy upward to higher levels of consciousness without dissipating it through orgasm, implying that this very act brought about the fall of mankind from the spiritual realm into the physical one.

This idea isn’t a new one to me, but I continue to vacillate on what to do with the information.

There are so many differing schools of thought on this, each ready to vilify the other(s); apparently we can not have our cake and eat it too.

The alternatives as they are presented appear to be:

  • disown our physical aspect, maintaining it in it’s optimal form as a purified vessel which allows us to connect to the energy from which we have come but not use it or become attached to any pleasurable experiences which the vehicle offers (it’s like getting a Cadillac with electric windows, air-conditioning and a full set of speakers and choosing to crack the windows just a little bit to get the airflow going on your drive through the desert so you don’t suffocate but making sure not to ease into actually enjoying the experience, and turning on the transistor radio in your pocket instead of blasting the music through the car’s speakers all the while carefully keeping it scratch free and buffed with Armoral, fed on a steady diet of high octane fuel and brought it in for regular tune-ups);
  • revel in this thick and juicy material beingness with every cell and breath (effectively consciously using this creative carnal energy to bend the material world at will but also cutting off from that incredibly powerful heart connection that one can achieve only through genuine and pretty much self-sacrificing love for the divine); or
  • attempt to bridge the gap in some way between the two extremes by walking a thin line between asceticism and full indulgence (though effectively never really achieving the sort of results the ascetics do in relation to elevated consciousness, or the manifestation results that those who have consciously engaged with the kundalini energy and learned how to bend it to their will).

Desire. It is the key operating word in this program.

What also strikes me in this (hypothetical) meandering is if the angelic host were already aware of this experience (indulge me, for a moment, in assuming that they exist), what have they done to mitigate these same dilemmas that they surely must also encounter? Why is physicality such an appealing state of being? Why is its opposite? Is one better than the other, or are they merely different sides to the same coin? Do we have the simultaneous option of both? Will the existence of one preclude the proper existence of the other? Can the two not comfortably co-exist – why or why not?

I’ve never been a simple girl. I’ve been asking questions (perhaps not these exact ones, but ones of similar ilk) for a very long time now, but have yet to come up with any really good answers.

I’d like an operating manual please, and a statistical run-through of probable outcomes.