Lucid Into the Memory of the People

I dreamt a memory of grandmother. I woke into the dream sitting with grandmother in front of a boulder rock in a river bed. She was teaching me how to listen and speak to the stones. The river had gone deep down into the earth this dry summer. I was granddaughter and went back to camp upon this dreamerers request. We must have been here for more then a day.I slip into my dreaming self to touch this perhaps tent of the finest leather I have ever felt. It looked like some cozy small sweat lodge, but I saw no entrance? Then we heard grandmother shout. I drew myself back into the body of granddaughter. "It's you". Grandmother leaped and was the body of Tiger. We flew up to track. Grandmother said, we need this one to help the waters. I saw something white move like snake. And then it showed it's face. A face that didn't appear to belong to this one. Grandmother will catch it soon enough, before it touches the waters that go to learn within the deep of mother. Feeling: loved and learning Reality Check: I woke with strength. The memory stayed with me and with it an attitude for a time, from a time when a young girl learned the land from her grandmother. Later after coffee and a walk I continued to hold this memory and drew a turtle's back to map where I was. I will research the leather structure to see if it was a tent,constructed into it's shape of the turtles shell?

The Thing About Dragons

To stand there

Facing one

Armor and sword melting

No cavernous consciousness can match

This primal force

Stand facing and
Drift inward without a fight

You will find the treasure of your might

It is the heart, it is the light

Nasa
Wreath 

Not All of Us are Narcissistic

I listened to Octavia Butler's Parable of the Sower last evening and colored. She's a difficult writer for a listener/reader to put down. I was more then half way through. It was midnight and I had to work in the morning. The minute my head hit the pillow I was traveling in the hypnagogic. At first it was one animal after another and another. The images streaming by were not extraordinary, but the sensations from them were filled with confusion. When I slowed this conscious state down I saw a black bear grab a white pole into the sky further then I could see. I saw a lioness frozen in time and the sensation of confusion rose in me once again. Then an incoherent white something. I woke and it took some time to brave up into dreaming again. I must admit I get angry sometimes at how self centered the human race is. We are not the only animals inhabiting this world.

When I finally went back to sleep I slipped into a chaos of older people. I was determined to get through these sensations of fear and confusion. In the crowd was a white haired woman wearing lavender, so I focused all my attention into slowing the streaming and into seeing her. I asked, do you want me to dream deeper with you? She must have had parkinson disease. I was teaching her how to walk more slowly, feel her feet and fall in love with the earth under them. She was a happy older woman and I woke feeling a bit less dreadful. I had an aunt with this struggle. She was a funny, happy old woman until the day she past. I love that she was in my life.

I will have to take time today to fall in love with people again. I find the whole of my species to be extremely self centered among the animal kingdom. I wonder if narcissism is on the rise in psychiatrist's offices?  I love the way Octavia Butler writes. Perhaps that's why I have to step away from her Earthseed books. I am a sensitive in a different way from her main character, but relate to the main character nonetheless. Her book parallels too closely to the chaos of 2020.

I am only working three hours today. On my way to work, in the middle of the road there were four peacocks around a white one, injured on his side on the oil road. I stopped the car and jumped out. He was dying and I wondered if this was that white incoherent something that I woke from last night in the liminal dreaming. He was dying slowly so I held an image of flight and ease and went to step on his neck to kill him swiftly. Just as I was stepping this younger man came running from behide me. He had gorgeous muscular tattooed arms. I said, he's dying and I was going to kill him so he wouldn't suffer so long. He grabbed me and hugged me. He said, yes it's ok. He is my bird, I have lots of birds. He picked him up and said he would take care of him. I got back in my car and thought how weird sometimes that my day life is much more dreamy then my night. I felt good about being a human again. How wonderful this man, not narcissistic at all as he walked away cradling this dying bird. Ok, I love humans again.

Dreaming With The Bees

I as dreamer am flying from my body in bed just a little ways into my backyard along the inbetween space where the corn field meets the unmowed yard. I see children, maybe human and maybe not, frolicking along this space. They are wearing gas masks and I feel disheartened. I find my whole self collecting into one calm breath before going deeper into this dream. Then a sensation as if a veil poofs away. I am four now. I am me flying above aware of my embodied thoughts and self in bed. This me is as an umbrella holding the image of the children energy wearing gas masks and asking how can this be changed. I am another who wears the face of the sun. I am another who wears the face of the honeycomb geometry. I am another who flies swiftly with focused intent. It is intense to hold the sight of gas masked children/bees. As I dream with/as the two faces, sun and honeycomb, the buzzing one takes us through several points of actions that have the children playing unmasked along the corn and yard. I watch and feel the hexagonal communications and my face shifts hues of green. I watch the subtle designs come into the honeycomb, like buddings of plants through seasons. Myself in bed breaths deep and leaves this dream. I wake quivering. I say, what if I plant selenium, will that help?
Feeling: sad and hopeful mixed together

Reality Check and Action plan: - The non-cooperation among the farmers around my home results in many different chemicals being sprayed with no regard to their interactions. It is eerie how toxins get normalized into social use in my country.
                         + I have been  asking about the bees and the eerie lack of them since I have come to this farm. This summer around the prayer garden and the shaking of the lovely mulberry, mighty pollinator, a large collective of honey bees buzzed about me. I sat with them on the unmowed lawn in the clover several weeks ago. My heart was in such delightful laughter just like it gets when I play with children.
                         + I am experiencing how one action has a ripple effect on this farm and with this farmer and me. I will not let my mind fall!
                         + Many years ago, with my younger son, we did a curriculum piece around planting selenium and all the benefits to soil and... I'll do a study for a week with this and whatever else comes.
                         + I'm excited to be joining in a teaching tour at a regenerative organic farm 80 miles away. The farmer I live with and I have worked out how not to use chemicals in the horses field.
                          + I am growing patience within. I will pay extra attention to what attracts me this week. Writing this my attention is attracted to this toy my dog has chosen to play with beside me. I see it is a sphere shaped from hexagons.
                           + Pay attention to what is said and seen in any in between or transitional spaces. Esp. pay attention to what I speak upon waking.

Balcony Holder

I have the whole day to myself on the farm. This is the ending of a very strange vacation. I didn't travel south to see my family and I ate cookies at midnight watching a movie on fostering children. I have been comet gazing, but last night the clouds and rain and thunder kept me in. I was so awake after the cookies and decided to polish off a chapter called myths and molecules.

I'm not sure when I transitioned out of reading into a dream where I was at the edge of the woods deciding if I would take the hand of this woman reaching from the woods edge. Perhaps having my self in bed awake inside this scene, had my dreaming self brave up and take her hand? Again I don't know how I transitioned from walking in the woods beside this woman to working and living with a family from Mexico with more than two children. I spent the night waking up into dreams of woods and not awake to the transition from one dream to another.

My favorite dream of the woods was me as my archer self standing rather taller than my body in bed. I woke in front of this lovely oak who was talking to me. Someone had trimed the top off of his canopy, but he appeared to have enough to thrive. He asked me if I wanted to come for a walk in the woods with him. Gabby, my dog was a bit afraid of him and he understood I wouldn't go without her. He then bowed his head in an offering of a balcony space for Gabby on top of his canopy. She was wagging her tail and jumped all in. I walked beside him and then a ripple, the light shifted into richer colors. I love this wood where I feel at home in. The green is so rich. There's no sensual distinction of mind that says I am plant life, I am animal animal life, water life... It's as if all life were joined in this richness, perhaps creation flowing. Not that we all are singular minded or not unique in form. Maybe it's that we beat in one heart? It is difficult to describe. Perhaps heaven is useful a word?  We made our way to a milky white moon clearing. Gabby jumped down and laid with me to gaze at the stars.  Then this oak who's name I can't pronounce and don't dare attempt to write, creates an arch so his face is looking upward. Gabby starts barking and running under and around the arch. I am laughing on the grass wondering where the comet is.  The oak I will call Balcony Holder goes into a stillness I can not match.

Again I did not wake up during the transition from this last dream to my feet touching the floor, out of bed and onto the front lawn. A squirrel crossed the yard and Gabby was gone into the small wooded area. I stood there with the lovely barn swallows excited in this last day of my vacation. I thought sense this is still my vacation, I'm going to let the dishes stack up. I'm going to write and grow some adventurous stories.

I went to feed the goats and horse after my morning coffee and a funny tongue and cheek post about disorderly nuts in the pantry. Kind of gave me a chuckle and feeling of no worries, that man has a clear orderliness for his nuts in the pantry. The goats and horse didn't appear in high excitement for the day. I wonder where they wandered in their dreams? I then had a thought, perhaps with that old oak, Balcony Holder, I am safe during the transitions. Oak has much meaning for me. On my way back to grab my bow and arrows I thought, oh boy are we in a messy, chaotic transition time.

Not the Covid Mask

My last act into sovereignty was to release the word underdog from my vocabulary. I can understand underdog from a gaming perspective. Yes it is exciting to cheer for a person or team that appears unlikely to win. Some paradigms are best left in the world of game playing. As for society, love and soul underdog denotes a person or people into a lesser position of need to strive. It often requires the striving to achieve and drop one's uniqueness into some herd mind glory. Often many forget they are not the cultural mask rewarded, they are not some cultural ideal. To "skill up" in order to further one's climb up the social ladder is madness. Becoming does not have to do with social status. No matter where a human lands in her life, she is no underdog to that life. In a dream I watched this last cultural mask chained about my neck, burn like some moth to the flame. Unchained I flew into the fire also and transformed.

A Goddess, raw with fresh earth stained between her toes entered. From her wealth of harmonics she voiced. I am the space within you offering warmth, safety and grace for all that is wild. I am a beacon for the wild earth ones. I am the music, the wave that carries the self to the self. I am the quiver holding your light and fire as you travel your passion outward.

To be a mask wearer you will follow your passions with undaunting dedication. To be a mask wearer you will know and love deeply the unmasked self. You will own your feet that touch the earth and chose the shoes that fit your sovereignty. To be a mask wearer is to be untainted by it's lusters.

Several days past this sovereign work, I continue to walk with vibrant skin. Embodied with that luscious life force, I stay centered with the help of a few animal guides coating my skin. Heightened in this sensual stream I laugh often this morning on my walk along the corn field, through the trees and over to the horses field. There is one feather in my hair. The blade of grass moves uniquely in the smooth ripple, waving in unison with all the others across the lawn.

Then indoors with my coats. Animal guides can bring in unpredictable weirdness from electronic devices. We were playing Catan at the table when I asked google, how many times is the word lamb written in the bible? Over 500 times. More than any other animal, says the voice from the speaker. I than ask google, how many times is lion mentioned in the bible? There is a noticeable pause and we get a question asked back. Do you want to know how many times a lion can mate in one day? Oh my Goddess we are laughing. Of course I say. Lions have been known to mate up to 100 times a day, says the google voice from the speaker at the kitchen window.

Vision Dreaming

The ocean is white rapids moving, washing away structures. From it's foam, new life on the shores. The white rapids bring in seafaring canoes. The child separates from their parent, no longer sits in their high chairs. They are given their own seafaring ways. The adults soon will pass, are given a Mighty Spirit to fare the swift current. Are sometimes beside their children and sometimes not.

Dear Prophets, bring a focal voice to the path before you. Take care, do not spout your ambient voice into egoic richess. This will muddy the messaging.  The people who can hear will gather together. This will be best in a slow steady pace.  Dreaming the prophet into shaman affords a sovereign gait to the vital growth. Daggers are blunted to sovereign feet. As for the liminal Flow, let the water lead you where you need your feet to walk earth. The winds will guide the air and pattern the fiery flames of human hearts at the hearth, from the candle, and campfires in tented communities. Some as a torch to the toxic strangle.

As the flowering grows, each species working colors from their own boundaries of absorbed light, pulse patterns to support the fresh world.  Many bridges of star to earth. New forms are birthed. As the flowering grows no longer one species for themselves.