Goodnight Dream Weavers

I’ve been dreaming like crazy lately! Lots about events that are happening in real life. Warped into bizarre realities behind my eyelids as dreams tend to do. As we can all tell by my last essay, dated May 25, a whole two weeks ago, it’s been too long since I’ve downloaded on Body Karma the myriad of musings that play inside my mind from day to day. Trust me, I’ve had lots to share and lots to tinker on about, as I so love to do, but as my dreams imply, I’ve been a bit scattered of late.

I’m currently in nutrition school. I have just nine months left (but who’s counting?) and am very much excited about the concept of finishing and bringing together the final stages of my business. Holistic Wellness. I’ve been building this for years and am elated that, this time next year, I will be able to finally begin putting forth the energy I’ve been cultivating all this time.

That being said, I’ve found myself buried in homework and studies much of the time, thus leaving little free play time to weave words here in my sacred space with all of you. I’ve so missed my bi and tri-weekly posts, goodness have I missed them. It’s interesting, the rotation of things in life. What are non-negotiables rise to the surface and what can be feasibly lived without (or tolerated less often) sink to the bottom, like shiny gemstone river rocks. My feigning hunger for literature, avid chakra and Ayurveda studies, detailed journaling and constant attention to Body Karma have all waned significantly in the past months. To balance my dense nutrition reports, projects, studies and learning I find myself filling all spare time with exertion of sorts. Asana, hiking, walking the dog, stretching, foam rolling, more yoga, trigger point therapy…I suppose the time I spend sitting and plugging away at meal plans and condition reports are so intellectually jammed with information that I crave an excessive amount of movement to balance it out. It all sometimes seems like an endless hamster wheel, the routine of each day, each day turning into a week, weeks bleeding into months and suddenly it’s a new season…

It’s a good reminder to be present. Present and grateful. I’m finding more and more that gratitude is the antidote to everything, gratitude heals all wounds, pacifies all doubts. Speaking of all that one learns with each passing year, I’m 25 for several more weeks. I’ve always been comically neurotic about my birthday. It must be a past-life thing or some karmic tendency embedded in my cosmic DNA. This is my last banana as a _____-year-old…this is the last time you’ll talk to me as a _____-year-old…never ever again will I ever be ______ years old. It’s frankly ridiculous and yet, as ever, I confess it here to you. It’s not that I mourn the aging process, not at all. I’m always excited about my birthday but I have some bizarre obsession with what’s being lost, in the same breath. Some strange pull to cling to what I’m leaving behind. The last everything as a whatever-year-old. I’m doing a little better with bidding farewell to the iconic 25, and yet I still manage to sign off from every journal entry with a PS) I’m 25… as though I of all people would forget.

I’ve found my dreams to reflect the state of my life lately. Busy, deeply laced with symbols, intensely colorful, wrought with emotion. I’ve journaled as many of them as I can [which I always recommend clients and friends do, we learn so much about ourselves and our subconscious mind when we make note of our dreams], oftentimes in the middle of the night with one eye open, scrawling sideways across a blank page of my journal, fragments of dreams, images captured in several words that I hope will initiate access to the full memory come morning. It almost always does.

So what does this mean? I think it means I’m trying to think of a thousand things at once all day long. I don’t feel stressed out (for once in my life) which is magical, a welcome peacefulness that’s been carefully cultivated, but my busy dream state exposes the preoccupied nature of my waking mind. Perhaps this is why I so love my time on my yoga mat, or one of the reasons. An hour, give or take, to blissfully check out from the constant, albeit scenic, train ride of the mind. Thoughts, constantly, at all hours of the day. It makes me rather fond of my dreams, no matter how alarming or unnerving they may be at times, because they dance on without my having to take any part in them. I don’t have to decide which to have first, which to remember best or which to have last the longest. They just go on, like a picture show, illustrations of my deepest fears, woes, triumphs and fantasies playing out on a private screen behind my eyelids. How magical, no?

When people ask me how I am lately I find myself at a loss for words. To reply “busy” would be foolish, who isn’t busy? To reply “blessed” would be sincere, and yet too cheeky to get away with in most circumstances. But the latter is the really the honest to God truth. I may be busy with my energy going in ten different directions, but I will never fail to see the absolute abundance in which I rest. Many are not so fortunate. I do not know the meaning of hardship, of hard work, of struggle. Yes, I have had my share of trying experiences, I have known tragedy and I have experienced my own humble spectrum of oh so human passion. But I have no right to be anything but grateful. Grateful for my dreams, my opportunities; grateful for you, for this space, for the chance to share these words; grateful for my connection to the Divine, to God, to the energy of which we are all comprised and the collective consciousness of which we are all a part. I am so thankful. So with that I will say goodnight, abruptly, while my Truth is most alive and my gratitude most abounding. “God is that which exists within that is of Truth and Love,” my teacher Seane Corn says. Thank God for Truth and Love. Sending out a wavelength of healing energy and love tonight, and dream weaving in vibrant color. May peace in its purest form fill your being and may we always, always, always return to gratitude. Namaste ❤

 

art - dream

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