Theory on a String (Of Conversations) Pt. I

So, I told you that the Universe has been hitting me over the head lately, and I also told you that I would expound upon the details of, oh, let’s be nice and name it a “wake-up” call the Universe has been trying to give me.  And, in an effort to continue on the path of following-through, here it is.

Long have I been asleep in myriad ways.  There have been wake-up calls, alarms, sunshine pouring through the windows, and yet, I somehow managed to remain fast asleep.  And not really just asleep, but more half awake, rolling over, not even bothering to hit the snooze button.  No, apparently sometimes I prefer to just try stuffing a pillow into my ear canals to purport the idea that I cannot even hear the alarm.

Finally, like mom used to do, the Universe decided to throw a nice, cold cup of water on my head.

The first conversation was short and sweet.

In a dark bar on Hollywood Boulevard, celebrating a college buddy’s birthday, his wife, also a great friend, pulls me aside and tells me a few things.  Knowing  I have been exercising my “open my heart” muscles of late, she basically says the following (I may paraphrase a bit, or a lot, who knows?):

“I think it’s great that you’re opening up to love and trying to love more in your life, but your friends deserve this love too.  Don’t be selfish with it.  You owe it to all of us, and not just us, but everyone in your life, the world, everything!  You have to love in all areas of your life if you’re going to be who you’re supposed to be, the man I know you want to be.”

Ok, so that’s not verbatim, but that was the crux of the message, it was what I took away from the conversation, and you get the idea.

I was proud of me because I didn’t cry, at least not there in that moment, but the train was definitely on the tracks and leaving the station.  And, going along with the travel theme, a few days later, I picked up a friend from the airport.  And feeling quite like Ebenezer, on the ensuing car ride home, I was visited a second time by the “Message of the Universe”.

Spirit Speaks: Follow-up

So, it occurred to me almost immediately after I wrote Spirit Speaks, or better yet, I suppose it’s more accurate to say that it was after I hit the publish button after re-reading Spirit Speaks for the umpteenth time (what? I like to edit, and judge, and then judge some more.  I’m working on it!), that I omitted something in that episode that was crucial for my understanding and growth.  Funny what some 80’s glam rock can do for the soul, huh?

The title of the song about which I last wrote is “Superstitious”, and the lyrics repeatedly drive home the point that the singer is not superstitious.  This was the second part of the lesson I was receiving on that totally gnarly and tubular day.

He wasn’t superstitious because he didn’t need to be.  No matter what happened, if a mirror broke, as he says in the song, or anything else, it didn’t matter, nothing could shake his faith, his belief in what he knew in his heart to be true.  Yes, yes, I know it is a love ballad to some girl that he probably didn’t really end up with anyway, but when Spirit moves, we either move with it, or (and this happens way too often in my life still) we resist and find some way to make our path that much more difficult.

I guess for me, no, I know for me, that I need to have more faith and belief in myself, my wisdom, my guiding intuition, and above all, I need to believe in the path that I’m walking.  I need to believe that it is indeed the best path for me at this point in my life.  Regardless of what trials arise, what obstacles are thrown in my path, or the person that pushes the buttons that trigger an unwanted reaction, all of this matters little if my faith in the path and the process is stable.

So, again, I say to Europe, thank you, and I’ll forego superstition and doubt, and I’ll do my best to keep the faith until The Final Countdown.

Spirit is so rad, huh?

 

Spirit Speaks

Spirit is always speaking, I guess sometimes I just turn off the headphones.  I know it’s been a while, but I’m back.  The Universe has been hitting me over the head lately (stuff I’ll get into in the next few posts), and I just wanted to share something odd and wonderful that traversed across my mindspace this last week.

I was listening to my Pandora station “Europe” this week.  Yes, Europe of “The Final Countdown” fame.  I was a child of the 80’s, what do you want?  I like big hair bands, get over it.  It was the song “Superstitious” that played, and while this isn’t even close to some of their most popular hits, the song spoke to me in a way I wasn’t anticipating.  The same thing happened to me on the beach in Venice about a year or so ago with the song “Strange and Beautiful” by Aqualung.  The words, the music, the arrangement, the sound was the same as it ever was, only I was in a different listening space when it came around, and “Superstitious” was no different for me this week.

I’ll let you listen for yourself, but the first lyrics are, “Keep on walking that road, and I’ll follow”. This grabbed my attention in an unexpected way.

Now, I realize he’s singing to some girl (he says so later in the song), but that’s not where Spirit found me.  Spirit gently let me know that I needed to reverse the speaker of the words and the recipient of said words.  In other words, without realizing it, I found myself in a kind of meditative trance where I was calling out to Spirit, and while my mind wanted to think that I would be following Spirit, my perspective was shifted to understand that it was Spirit that would follow me!  Of course, I had to actually do the walking, but if I did, Spirit would have my back the whole way.

Well, needless to say, it made me cry, and I was grateful for it.  Anyway, I thought you might enjoy looking at it through my eyes.  So, here you go.  In all it’s 80’s glam and glory, Europe has something for everyone.  Weird, spooky castle? Check.  Horribly choreographed super slow-mo dancing?  Check.  Obligatory pyrotechnics?  Check.  Wild, curly hair of awesomeness?  Check.  Try to hold yourselves back!  Oh! And you’re welcome in advance for the rocking of your socks!

Fire Dancer

Writing, living, doing
Seeing
Wishes, hopes, dreams
Fears
Embodying my every move
I think, I know, I realize I know nothing
I think
I must be wrong
Somewhere
Somehow
This cannot be right
Cascading, falling, tripping
Repeating
Feel the presence it presents
Tuning, receiving, acknowledging
Remember the times
The past is dead
Spinning, percolating, breathing
Dying?
Living forever
The heart, the mind
Forever enemies
Or maybe friends
I think I know nothing anymore
Joyous rapture, broken to pieces
All seem to float by
On an endless parade of Macy’s jealousy
Attached, detached, wondering
Pondering
Every movement turned dance
A reflection of me, of we, of us
An apt depiction of this life
Moving endlessly, always, never-failing
I don’t see the message
But am I already living it?
Looking back, never looking
A pillar consumed by fire
Lit, purified
Dancing flames, dancing, dancing
Hypnotizing
Are we fools in our folly?
Mesmerized by the intoxication
Wrought with doubt
Fretting, consuming
This life consumes us
Living, dying, breathe in, breath out
Repeat
Waking, sleeping, choreographing
Breaking the rules
Living lies?
Continue, continue, don’t stop!
Feel it, know it, believe it
Owning, relinquishing, buying
Selling
Break me off, set it free
Free the slaves
The mental, the physical
Burn them all in perfect purification
Lie to me, tell me I’m pretty
Take off your pants, tell me you love
Me?
You?
Anything
Just love, love, love
With spite, with fervor
Without regret
Slowly, assuredly, living aimlessly
Wandering lost
It’s not me, it never was
Except that one time
And then there was nothing
Or maybe everything
So meaningful
Absolutely worthless
Love me, hurt me
Depleted, raped, fired
Knocked up, knocked down
Frowned upon
Kicked and beaten, picked up, dusted
Shelved and kept
Break the cycle
Wash, rinse, repeat
Did you repeat?
What if you knew the truth?
Moralistic, pessimistic, invalidated
Shining, peaking, illuminating
To what end?
Who are you?
What is your purpose?
Follow me, drink this, eat here
My ways will leave you stranded
Or perhaps you will find yourself
Come with me
Walk this way, stay in line, sit up straight
Follow your heart, don’t trust strangers
Do you want some candy?
Take a ride in this car
Sit here, it’s ok, you have nothing to fear
(But aren’t you afraid?)
See the fear, live it, know it
Make it your friend, love it
Embrace it the way you embrace my ways
Your teacher, your student
Living truth
Convenience is a mother fucker
You lie
To me, to you, all of us
And we gladly return the favor
Look at us, aren’t we cool?
Be like us, we are
And we love it!
See this face?
Don’t worry about the pain behind the eyes
It’s nothing
We are comfortable here
Join, join, dance
Here, not like that, like this
Release control, you’re safe here
Damning, cajoling, leading astray
Wander in, sit down, make yourself at home
The fire is nice
Fleeting
Silk through fingers
Falling elegantly into a pile on the floor
Wash my feet with your hair
Know me, love me, give me everything
No possessions but my possessions
Feel the fire, it’s your safety net
Scars are nothing but stories
Stories live forever, but are dead
This place is your home now
A slave, indentured?
Never
We don’t believe in such things
Come and go as you please
Just don’t stay too long
Imbibe, consume, gesture lovingly
Show me your hate, feel it coursing
Breath life into it and make it whole
Lay down here
I made you a bed
Don’t worry about the rope
Imprisoned, captive, creative
Dark, light, duality
Burn it down
Dance with me on the flames
They cannot harm us
Well, not me
Can’t you see it all clearly?
It’s not me, I’m not the one
Your world is not mine
Driving, taxing, inspiring
Dying
Repeating, repeating, forever cyclical
A giant wheel of nothing
Lick it up, drink it
Everyone else did
It tickles on the way down
Trust me
Turn off your head
Illogical, irrational, emotional wreck
Wreck this car, rent this wreck
Push, pull, bend, twist
Fire eyes consume endless nothingness
Hearts bend in the strong wind of desire
Feel it creep up
I love that feeling
Make it your own
You are not mine
Get back here!
Where do you think you’re going?
Leave now, never come back
Worship me
Wait!
You can have a turn too
Own me
Bend me to your will
Puppet me
Pull the strings and I’ll jump

Not To Minimize It, But Get Over It

Are you still listening?  Maybe I lost you with that last post.  If I did, then you probably won’t read this anyway, but for those of you that are still here, let’s continue, shall we?

It’s interesting to see the feedback from such a profanity-laced post.  Lots of anger, words imbued with such gritty passion, a post like that is not the most comfortable stuff in the world, but still a part of the world, at least my world.  So, perhaps you will indulge my explanation.

I wrote from a place of such detachment from the emotion with which I injected into Say Whatever the F@$* You Mean.  I realize that didn’t come across so much, but that was kind of the point for me, from a writing perspective.  I’m a nerd, and a good experiment, even in writing, really turns me on, so there.

Everything I wrote was part of the inner speak going on inside my head over the last few weeks.  I get angry still.  I don’t show it in such an aggressive manner, and if you know me, then you know that, but anger still lives in me, and from time to time, it tries to rear its ugly head.  This time, I decided to let it rear away, and I just watched it to see what it would do.  What came out, was what you read (or didn’t read, perhaps).

Say Whatever The F@$* You Mean was a commentary on my anger.  It was an exploration.  I wanted to roll out the anger that I had been feeling, examine it, poke it, dissect it, look for what made it tick.

Perhaps there was too much anger, too much offensive language, too much darkness too properly see.  From some of the responses, I know that my point was easy to overlook.  I’d like to re-state it now.

We owe it to one another to be kind, compassionate and loving enough to be honest all the time.  Even if (maybe especially if?) it makes us angry.  Anger is only an attachment, and often, it shows an attachment that we desperately need to release in our lives.  I’m not suggesting you go out and intentionally piss of your friends and family because we still have to find a loving way to help each other get over our attachments.

I don’t like people telling me what to do, where to live, how to live, what my potential is, etc., etc., etc.  I don’t like being asked, “What are your goals in life?”  I don’t like being asked, “How is that children’s book you’re working on?”

Why don’t I like these things?  Because it makes me accountable.  It means I have to do something.  I have been looking busy without actually doing anything for years.  Maybe 20 years now.  If looking busy was a career, I’d be the Bill Gates of the Busybody Corporation.

That false show of mine is an habitual response that needs to change.  When you ask me what I’m doing, how I’m doing it, and yada-yada-yada, the anger I feel is in fact nothing more than my anger and embarrassment and disappointment with myself for not having done more up to this point.  For not fulfilling my purpose the way that I think I should be doing.  It’s anger for being so far from my full potential, and it’s anger because somewhere in here (points to head) I feel like the last 20 years have been wasted.

I wasn’t always like this.  As a kid, I was an overachiever.  Straight A’s, excited to learn, to move, to do.  Something happened.  I don’t exactly know what, I just know a change in habit, in personality, perhaps, took place, and I lost that drive.  So now, it hurts and makes me want to be angry because I have to power my way through the habit of looking busy while accomplishing nothing, and every time I power through that malaise, I hope I find myself on the other side where I’m actually doing something, anything.

The “event” that caused all this is irrelevant.  I would like to know what changed, but that is just my curiosity longing to be satiated, and in the grand scheme, the “event” doesn’t really matter.  Knowing might help, but even without knowing, I can still choose to make the change.

So, how did you react to Say Whatever The F@$* You Mean?  Maybe there is something there to explore.  Maybe not.  Your path is yours and yours alone.  I’m still just a signpost.  Sometimes the sign has foul language.  And not to minimize it, but get over it.

Say Whatever The F@$* You Mean

WARNING! THIS POST CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE.  HIDE YOUR WIFE.  HIDE YOUR KIDS. (IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE IT, THEN PLEASE DON’T READ THIS FUCKING POST!)

I’m pissed.  No, not in the British sense of “I’ve had too much to drink”.  I’m angry.  I don’t even know why.  If I did though, I suppose I could put together a whole shit list together.

I have Mommy issues.  I have Daddy issues.  I have general fucking trust issues.

Don’t believe it?  Do you know me?

I was raped as a child.  My sister was there.  I didn’t protect her from this asshole that took advantage of us both.  It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized the “asshole” was still a child himself, in the grand scheme of things.  But the damage was done.  The damage I inflicted upon myself for years (maybe I still am inflicting?) was ten times fucking worse.

My mom and I had a very strained relationship growing up.  I will not go into the details of it yet.  My sister is getting married in less than 2 weeks, my mother reads this blog, and I’m not going to strain the sanctity or happiness of my youngest sibling’s marriage before I get to it.

In my perception, my dad wasn’t around enough for me growing up, and I held him complicit for what I endured as a kid.

I know exactly why I don’t trust.  It’s why I find myself now, at 37, single, without ever having had a relationship that has amounted to more than a passionate fling, however long it may have lasted (2 1/2 years is the longest for those keeping score.)  It’s why I “lock out” friends that only want to help me.  It’s easier to push people away than to embrace them.  Especially when you label me “this” or “that”.

So, like Eminem said, “I am whatever you say I am”.  Or whatever the fuck I say I am, more importantly.

So, what the fuck am I?

I am ever changing.  But in this moment, I’m angry.  I thought the anger was gone, but nope, there it is like a girl you fuck once or twice and just want her to go away, but she keeps coming back around once in a while no matter how rude you are to her.

I get angry when people think they know what’s best for me.  It’s one thing to share that when I’m looking for it, but it’s a delicate fucking balance, and you better check your weights and measures before approaching me about some bullshit I may or may not want to hear.

And if I get hurt or angry about what you said, then you better be able to handle that too.  I make no fucking promises.

Call me out.  Go ahead.  But if you back down after putting in your two cents, then fuck you, is all I can say.  You cheap, gutless bastard.  How dare you?  That’s the quickest way to lose my friendship.  I don’t like standing up to people, and I don’t like having to defend what I think, feel or say, but I will when pushed.  But know this:  I push, and I will push you too.  And if you don’t stand firm in your truth, your words, your actions, I will delete you from my life in a heartbeat.  I can’t stand wimpy fuckers that can’t stand up to me if I get offended or angry.  In fact, I need you to stand up to me!

If you’re going to tell someone how they should live their life, where they should live their life, what they should be doing with their life, then you have to be ready for an adverse reaction no matter how fun-loving, easy-going, or Zen-like they may appear to be.

It’s like my friend, Oren says, “I’m a nice guy.  Unless I’m not.”

We all have different sides, and those sides are what make us human beings.  The pretty and the ugly and the dark.  In particular, the dark.  We all have it.  Don’t write me and tell me that I’m dark, please.  Pretty, fucking please.  You have darkness too.  It exists.  To deny it is to deny our humanity.  It is from the dark that some of the most important lessons are learned.  Where growth can have an exponential gain.

We are here to help each other.  Relationships are here to help us reach a higher awareness.  You owe it to me to say whatever the fuck you feel like saying.  And I owe it to you to say whatever the fuck I need to say (or not say) back.

Let’s be extremely clear about this:  If you piss me off, it’s not because of you.

If I get upset, it’s because I have an attachment that I have yet to let go of in my life.  You pointed it out.  Thank you very fucking much!

But if I can listen between the anger, the resentment, the bitterness, I have a beautiful chance to grow more fully into the person I came to this rock to be.  Sometimes it takes longer than other times.  So, give me some goddamn room, would you?!

There is a Bible verse that reads (that’s right, the Bible):  “Great peace have they which love Thy law, and nothing shall offend them.”

“Thy Law” can be translated however it makes you comfortable as far as I am concerned.  You don’t have to go with God, or Buddha, or anyone or anything else, that’s not the point.

The point is that if I get offended, I’m clearly not in balance, in harmony or in peace.  Somewhere, something inside of me is aching to be released.  An attachment somewhere is dying, and it doesn’t like it.  How would you feel if someone was trying to kill you?  You’d probably be pretty fucking pissed off too.  You’d fight like hell, wouldn’t you?

This path is not what I thought it would be.  It is much more difficult than I would have ever dreamed it to be.  I could bullshit you and pretend that I don’t have any problems, any issues, but what fucking good would that do any of us?  Not much, I would venture.

So say what you mean.  Mean what you fucking say.  I’ll do the same.  It’s never about you.  I only have my perception, and, ultimately, only I handle my capacity to grow.  If you don’t continue to speak your truth, then you rob me of my chance to  grab hold of what could be a life-changing insight to help me grow.  Kind of a dick thing to do, really.  And as I have much growing to do, I am really hoping you will be a real friend and help a brother out.

I’ll tell you my truth if you tell me yours.  Even if it pisses you off.  Then maybe we can both grow a little more.  Hell, we might even blossom.

Ain’t that a fuckin’ daisy?

Where Have You Been?

I got a text message the other day, maybe two days ago, I don’t know, but the timeline isn’t too important, really.  It read:

“Dear Jon:  I miss you.  Love, your blog.”

Well, blog, I miss you too.

I’ve been lost in observation.  In exploration.  In swirling thoughts and feelings.  In incoming messages.

I sat with a hummingbird for a full five minutes, 4,000 feet in elevation, snow on either side of the narrow mountain trail.  Just sat on the trail, the pink fluorescent neck of the nearly black little bird just inches from me.  The bird didn’t move away from me.  I dropped to my knees and sat back on my heels, the hummingbird’s long, silvery tongue flicking the air.

I watched a woman of about 60 years of age, run to catch a train.  She smiled brilliantly despite the enormous energy required of her.  I watched her wave to the conductor, who could obviously see her in the rearview mirror.  The train pulled away just as she reached the last possible entrance door.  She continued to smile.

I spent a week nurturing my relationship with the Jaguar.  My Jaguar friend is named Samantha.  She is kind of in that in-between stage of being a girl, turning into a woman.  She doesn’t have the black, sleek fur that my ego wanted to see her have.  She has spots.  She would be more mature, but she is in sync with me and my connection to Spirit, which was disconnected from the time I was a teenager until more recently.  She is playful and loving.  She likes to be called Samantha instead of Sam.  She is growing up, after all.  I still get to call her Sam sometimes though.

Exiting the train, and walking across the bridge that crosses the freeway, I saw a young girl shadowed by the length of two young teenage boys.  Blood poured from her chin, trying to clot.  It gave her a little red goatee as the blood spilled onto the faux fur that lined the collar of her coat.  There was clearly a lot going on in this woman’s life.  22, slightly drunk, anorexic, she was afraid.  Afraid to go home to her parents, afraid of me, the boys, the police, the paramedics, she was lost.  Like an animal wounded, her hands covered in blood, she barely stood of her own volition.  I watched in amazement at the courage of one of the teenage boys.  The girl sat against the walls that housed the elevators, shaking, trembling.  The young man sat, cross-legged, in front of her and held one of her hands while he lovingly, gently caressed her shoulder with the other to comfort her.  He didn’t know her.

I watched a hawk dance in the air for 20 minutes.  The hawk surfed the air, barely moving its wings, until it seemed to raise up, flash its belly and rapidly flap its wings in small flutters as if to say hello, or to send a sign or message.  It’s something I have never seen.

I climbed over the top of a waterfall to stand on top of it and look back down into the ravine into which it spills.  One of the scarier ascents and descents on which I have found myself lately, but worth the view and the knowledge that I have a new path to explore.

Where have I been?  I don’t know.  But if I did, I would say I have been learning, listening and looking for what new opening is awaiting me or on its way to me now.  It’s all happening so fast.  Sometimes I get lost.

I’m Rebelling!

I don’t feel like writing suddenly.  I was on a great roll, and then, suddenly, here I am, and I’m not typing.  Well, now I am, but I don’t like it very much.

I sat down the other day to write, but nothing.  I had all these ideas about how to tackle the body stuff, specifically the hips, the work I’ve been doing for them, the animals that have come around, etc., but in spite of a head chocked full of magical ideas, theories and  cross-referenced pairings, my fingers refused to do any work.

I got so far as to check into the blog, and I even pulled up a blank “new post”, but, as you already know, nothing came of it.

I’m trying, really I am.  I am trying not to judge whatever pops in, but digging up the bones, so to speak, has been intimidating enough, or so it would seem, to keep my fingers trembling and rejecting the notion of writing about the work and, ultimately, the fear that is apparently still hiding in there somewhere.

Agh!  I want that all to just go away!  I mean, enough is enough, right?  I’m awake, I’m aware, I’m seeking, what more must I do to pass through this infernal fear?!

Ok, so there.  I’m terrified to dive into this, (but I already said that once) so I’m rebelling.  I’m just trying to get my fingers to type anything at this point.  I feel better just having written this.  I hope you’ll be understanding of my resistance.

An Inventory Of The Dark

It occurs to me that as I have promised myself that this will be the year of my body, and healing that body, that I have yet to report exactly what it is that I’m working on.  I thought an inventory of these things might be helpful to both me and you.  Maybe you have a similar pain, or ache, or injury, and you can benefit from exploring what it means, how we might fix it, and the growth that may be attained as a result.

This part scares me.  I have to be real and honest with myself, and that is always an interesting endeavor.  In fact, I was visited by something dark last night in my dreams.  What it was, I don’t know.  A harbinger of the possible depths to which I will have to dive and the accompanying darkness that those depths may contain?  Maybe.  It was an energy that stuck its face in my face and had me awakening in a gasp.  It wasn’t that bad, I mean, I didn’t feel terribly threatened or anything, but it was more like it was just letting me know it was there.

I don’t want to do this.  I don’t want to be here.  I don’t want to face the dark.  I was always afraid of the dark as a kid.  I did what I think every kid probably did at least once or twice growing up.  I would carefully turn down the blankets on my bed, shut off the light, then race back, leaping into the air, land on the bed and tumble and turn, coccoon myself into the blankets before the “something” of the dark would catch me.  My head was exposed.  I never seemed to have an answer for that.  The Dark.

So here I am.  I still don’t want to face the dark.  I would love to run, leap, and fly through the air, land on my spiritual pillows, wrap myself up in spiritual blankets, and forget the whole thing. 

So much for trepidation. 

My right hip and hamstring have been hurting for a few years.  This came about as an unrecognized, neglected displacement of my hips, which was really more about my left hip at the time.  This is certain:  my hips are out of alignment, and my right one has a dull pain that never really goes away.  Both hamstrings are extremely tight.

My ankles have been rolled so many times from playing basketball, I can now almost roll my ankles over to the outside without much more than a slight wince.  My neck is constantly tight, feeling that it needs to be cracked.  My left shoulder-blade was slammed to a concrete floor about 8 years ago and still hasn’t healed properly.  My wrists are weak.

I feel broken in places, and weak in most others.  I have let things go over the past few years.  That all changed with Back To Basics.  I have been hiking, as I committed, at least twice a week, sometimes more.  I started going back to yoga, three times last week, in fact. 

Over the next week, I will talk about each temporary ailment and pain.  I will use the Mind Body Workbook, and other references to tell what the different parts of the body represent.  Then I will continue to post as I heal.  I’m facing the dark and creating light in its place.

The Mugwort Dream

I was walking, following someone, my feet lightly thudding on the sidewalk below my feet.  I couldn’t see a face, in fact, I couldn’t really see a body, now that I think about it.  There were clothes, I think.  It could have been any shape underneath what I now recall as a black trench coat.  The neck, the head, the hands, all were hidden from view, and, again, now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t really remember seeing any feet either.  I just kind of assumed this entity, this being, this thing in front of me had a human shape and feel to it.  Maybe I shouldn’t assume.

People passed by, no one seemed to pay me any attention, but then again, I was intensely focused on my subject, so maybe it was me that had no attention left to give.  We walked by a school yard, an ugly, chain link fence separating the world from the playground of imagination.  Cars drove languidly by, people crossing the street, mothers holding their children’s hands.

We came upon a tree that seemingly sprouted from underneath the concrete pathway forced upon the earth by the hands of us, the humans.  The sidewalk maintained its defense, but the tree was winning the battle of wills and time, as the sidewalk was slowly surrendering to the power of nature.

As my subject walked hurriedly along our path, the bulge of the tree trunk acted as a protector, an accomplice in keeping my subject in the shadows.  I could only see the coat-tail of the trench coat as the round-ness of the trunk created an insurmountable parallax not to be overcome by me in that moment.  Suddenly, the coat-tail leaped from the broken sidewalk to a branch about 12 feet from the ground.

That’s impossible!  How did they do that?

I continued on my now irreversible course and arrived at the tree just a moment later.  It wasn’t until I was under the branch that I realized the breadth of the tree trunk and the massive girth of the branch above my head.  As I continued from under the shadow of the branch, I glanced up and over my right shoulder.  The being I had been following was now a Raven that was about 5 feet tall.  It gazed back down at me, beckoning me to continue around the tree, to venture forth, deeper into the mystery before me.

It took much longer than one would think it could possibly take to get around a tree.  It seemed quite the journey, but eventually, I came to clearing, more like a grove of trees with an oddly large empty space.  A canopy of branches and leaves covered the clearing.  There were birds all around, flying in and out of trees, alighting one branch to rest upon another across the way.  Thousands of birds gathered there.

I’m sure, as I reflect, there was a purpose for their congregation.  I want to say (although it frightens me to say this) that they were there simply because I was finally there.  It was as if they had been waiting for this moment for such a long time.

I followed the flights of a few birds as I spun to absorb the full wonder of the magical place in which I found myself.  My trance took me to the right, or maybe it was the earth that revolved to my left, it was difficult to be sure of anything there.

Sitting in chair swings made of branches, two giant Ravens, 15 feet tall looked down from their perch.  They were clearly the ancient ones, the wise ones.  It seemed very clear that one was a male energy and one a female energy.  At first, I thought they had messy, ruffled feathers covering their bellies, but as I looked a little longer, it became apparent that they were not ruffled feathers at all, but long beards.   The beards were made mostly of black feathers or maybe hairs, but there were brown and white ones scattered about, enough to reveal the ancient-ness that resided within them.

Their beaks were extremely long and shiny, giving the impression they might be made of polished black granite.  Their eyes were deep-set, dark as night, and, of course, they were also huge.  They sleepily rolled their eyes and heads as they followed some pre-determined parabolic course before settling on my presence in the middle of the grove.  We held a three way gaze that seemed to last an eternity.

There was no communication of which I am aware.  To be honest, I didn’t even remember the dream when I awoke.  I was brushing my teeth when this all came rushing  back to my memory.  I have been warned that sometimes these encounters are accompanied by an entity, messenger, spirit or the like that communicates in a frequency or modality to which I may not yet be accustomed to understanding.  I have asked for their return, and their help in allowing us to communicate effectively.  I will keep you abreast…