This morning, I climbed back into bed to meditate under warm blankets and fell back to sleep. I awakened with a dream; I was pulling my kayak into the river, excited to paddle, but almost Immediately there was a barrier that I had to cross with the boat; very large, downed tree trunks and branches. I got the boat up on top of the pile of branches then had to climb over them myself. While I was doing that the boat slipped out of my grasp, rolled off the other side and went tumbling down the river. There was too rough a current to swim, or so I thought. But I couldn’t stay on that big pile of branches, and I could see the boat had slowed in shallows about 150 yards away. An unnamed friend was there, holding it and waving to me to come. I was just getting ready to leap off into the river, remembering that I am a good swimmer, when Hal buzzed with his alarm and woke me.
Looking at this dream now: the boat is obviously my body, at least in part. The “vessel”… broken loose, careening down a roaring river. Can it survive? My life – body and emotions – has been such a raging river last month. I needed to take better care of this physical vessel; more rest, more meditation, more play, more joy.
I look at my, “there’s no time” excuse. There is ALWAYS time. “No time,” is an escape, from what? From pain, says a small voice; from feelings of helplessness; from anger. I can see myself hardening into armor. I ask, “What are my highest intentions, to stay safe by avoidance (which is never safety!) or to live fully ,with an open heart?” Both are there, of course, but the open heart is predominant. How can I ride this vessel with joy, yet still with the intention of keeping myself (and others) from great harm. Lovingkindness is the chooser behind that intention, not fear.
The question arises, when looking further at our whole society these days, “What needs to be released?” I know we’re shifting into a new, higher consciousness, out of individuated consciousness and into a more group consciousness of higher vibration. Aaron spoke to me of “demolition,” reminding me, when I wished to create a new house structure that was accessible, all on one level, for Hal, I had to demolish the original back dining room, kitchen, deck and porch. I had worked so hard through the years to build those structures. They had served their purpose for 45 years; they no longer served that purpose. In order to create something new I had to let go of the old. But it was so hard!
Riding down that river felt like a path of release of the old sense of separated self and moving into the sense of co-creator with all that is. Yes, it’s terrifying. But there’s also a joy in it; releasing all the perceived limits to open to the fulness of who we are.
What is our vision? What no longer serves that vision?
