It’s 2 p.m. This morning’s meditation was a practice in fidgets and worry. Breakfast and lunch were thrown together and the dishes are in the sink. I haven’t been outside. I feel scattered and unfocused. I didn’t write what I want to write.
What have I done instead?
1. I wrote down last night’s dream about Middle Eastern men singing a mournful lament.
2. I read a few political articles that made me scared and sad.
3. I wrote letters to politicians, because I’m committed to doing my part.
4. I sent email comments to more politicians, signed a few petitions, and considered donating money.
5. I had a long text exchange with my mother-in-law’s health aide about Depends, doctor’s appointments, and the ever-shifting health needs of someone who is 101.
6. I sent a donation to the ACLU.
7. I called my son, because what’s the use if there’s no time for people I love?
8. I worked on this blog and responded to comments about last week’s blog which a friend called a Greek lament. A good name for my mournful reminder that we depend on each other’s kindness and tolerance.
The day slides away. I still haven’t written what I hoped to write.
After running into a few dead ends this year, I turned my focus to a dream series that began when my husband Vic was ill and continued for years after his death. I want to explore these guiding dreams and soul messages, but this work needs time to swoop me up and carry me along.
Before we understood how sick Vic was, dreams hinted of hard times to come. While losing him, our life together, and myself, I dreamed. Prolific night stories provided narration and soundtrack as my old life crumbled and I descended into the unknown. Even at the hardest moments, dreams hinted of a new life to come.
I wrote down every dream and kept them in notebooks. I talked with my dream therapist about some. I painted others. Even when I was overwhelmed and lost, the dreams assured me that my Soul knew the way.
It’s time to work with hundreds of dream stories. It’s time to dig deep.
I no longer wake up feeling life will go on as before. I don’t wake up feeling I’ll be OK. Or my country. Or the Earth. I wake up with the ground quivering beneath me. I wake up with the weight of collective grief and the buzz of anxiety.
Still, I know how to respond to the soul’s inner call.
2. Take more walks with my joyful dog. While walking, breathe and be inspired by birds, swelling buds, and sunsets.
3. Act politically every day with a focus on issues that matter most to me like social justice and the environment.
4. Make life more spacious by writing two blogs a month rather than writing weekly as I have for five years. This decision hurts, but following my heart depends on it. So, for now, I’ll blog on the first and third Tuesday of the month.
5. Explore inner worlds by digging into a dream project I’ve been afraid to tackle. I hope my work will become helpful to others but, however it turns out, it’s time for me to revisit and rethink the dreams that showed me the way.
Still, in the midst of uncertainty, I hear my Soul’s call. I need to listen carefully.
Have recent events in the world or your personal life helped you re-examine goals and consider projects that you’d avoided? Have you made any moves to change things? For other articles about finding my way, see She’s Seven Now: When Dreams Lead the Way or When Dreams Tell Our Future.