10. Dreaming the Earth

WHAT DREAM DREAMT YOU TO WAKE UP TO YOUR LIFE?

Blog 10: October 8-10, 1996—I dream another native dream. Men dance in a Native American ceremony and pray for the spirit of my friend’s brother on the East Coast. I feel sad as I watch. I sense I am holding onto something. I have an attachment to my friend and a dance we shared and performed together before I came here. We both carried a determination that was running us, and I feel my dream is asking me to let go of this determination that pushes me.

My body still carries this energy as I wake up. It subtly reminds me of last week’s injury when I pulled a groin muscle as I stretched in Judith’s house—my temporary home during my past month in New Mexico when I stopped here on my way to the West Coast. My dream also provides clarity. As I look outside, I feel all the negativity of the world quickly becoming minimalized by this garden of earth I am living on in this desert city. The land is not just land. It is home, family, hope.  All over the world, we destroy the land, and yet here I walk outside and I can still see the stars, and the trees break the whisper of the wind, and I feel an awe to witness the power of the earth. She is a gift, and all should be done in her name.

Despite these moments of awareness and awe, though, there are days out here where I return to a space of sadness. For all that I have been handed by this universe, and especially lately, I feel my impatience and how I have, in ways, not appreciated what I have been given. I dance as much as I can to feel contented, and I tire my injured groin in a longing to feel my own aliveness. I am a caged bird that doesn’t get the gifts that have shown up to make possible my flight. Instead, I run in fear of these spirit and human helpers temporarily clipping my wings. I fear getting stuck in complacency, in a sweet satisfaction of living what I don’t feel is mine.

WHAT DREAM DREAMT YOU TO WAKE UP TO YOUR LIFE?

Advertisements