Bumps on the road

Sometimes it feels like there are bumps on the road to evolution.  On a recent morning I had a dream in which my mother came crowding into my bed and discovered all kinds of bugs there.  She uncovered various little nests of spiders and dead leaves that were hiding along the edge of my bed, and her continued focus on these things annoyed me.  My situation there with her prevented me from going out to play.  I woke up feeling agitated and upset.  Sometimes I will remember a dream like this, and I figure it's telling me something, so I try to pay attention.  

I think that on the path of healing and evolution there's a process of uncovering, releasing, clearing out.  Sometimes I hesitate to attend to the little moods that come over me because I think I have done plenty enough of that.  But I've also trained myself to be present with what is.  And I notice that bumps and moods keep coming, and that the content of the moods has its own story, its own wisdom.  I thought for awhile about what that morning's dream might have to tell me.  In a meditation that evening, I reviewed it and imagined cleaning out all around that bed and allowing my mother to rest in it, while I went off to swim outside.  That felt good.  I also think that there's a message in the imagery of cobwebs and spiders eggs and leaves hiding behind my bed.  I was at peace and she came and found these things.  I felt that she was focusing unnecessarily on negative things, but I sensed that my allowing her into my dream to do this was telling me that part of me is harboring squeamish and persnickety feelings.  I would like to be at ease, and in acceptance of myself and others. And I would like to pass the acid test of being able to be in complete ease and confidence in the presence of my mother.  Yikes!! 

Don't get me wrong, my mother is a lovely person, but she just can't help having a few (well, maybe more than a few?) itsy bitsy judgments that she makes about, well, everything.  She's a discerning individual.  Discernment is an important skill, but its big sister is acceptance.  And the class president in this little community of skills is appreciation.  Being in appreciation actually changes our brain chemistry, and maybe it even reforms our DNA.  (Check that out - it's called epigenetics.)  So I seek to often be in appreciation of what is - not that hard, mostly, since we live in beautiful and amazing world.  But sometimes another kind of mood can cloud my ability to be open hearted and in wonder and appreciation about the things that are happening around me.  


As I said, I like to honor those moods and feelings with expression, inquiry, love, and acceptance.

What really moved me past the mood of that dream was the dance I did the following evening.  I hold space on Thursday evenings for people to come to my small studio and dance.  We dance to wonderful recorded music that I put together in a mix for the event, and it's a free form experience of safety, creativity, reverence, and cutting loose.  Last week, what was especially wonderful was having a some new people come in to share the experience.  An entirely new and lovely person called me that morning and got directions to come to the dance, and old friend came back who has suddenly reappeared, smiling, into my life, and another dancer returned from overcoming cancer to dance again with renewed joy bursting out of his being.  Plus a warm and lively regular dancer, and me.  Funny, I thought up to 1/2 hour before the dance that maybe I should cancel because no one would show up.  That sure was wrong!  Instead, we opened with a centering exercise, acknowledging our awareness and our body wisdom, and off we went into stretching, moving, breathing, tuning in, and rocking out! What often happens for me is that after several fast songs to which I am bopping, jumping, swirling, dipping, reaching - whatever, you know, it's a full body response to the music - at the end of the set there will be a slower song, something deep or tender or spacious or reflective.  By this time, my body is all loosened up, my mind is freed, and something happens that allows me to channel the most spirited and delicious energy into the dance.  

So, on that night, the next song was, "Film III (Live)" by Canadian avante garde cellist/singer Jorane.  This is one of those songs that for me feels very understated yet passionate.  During the song I really let go.  Moving physically and emotionally, without really thinking about it, I was pushing the frustration and stuckness right out of my chest and throat.  Making room to replace these things with a sense of reverence.  Then late in the second half of the dance, one person took another's hand, and after a bit, all five of us were holding hands and swaying and ducking in and out and laughing laughing until the music stopped and we just hugged one another in a spontaneous recognition that we are alive and life is sweet.  Finally, as we always do, we ended sitting in a circle in silence, and I felt so grateful.  That state of appreciation that I seek to return to again and again enveloped me, the group, and the night.  Yes.  

Here's a poem I wrote a few years ago from a state of deep and wide appreciation:

PRETEND WHAT IS TRUE

Open a door onto a world of wonder.
A soft, humming jungle world that glows in damp fecundity
while scents of green hover in clouds
that stream around us as we walk.

Open a door onto a world
where smooth bodied creatures link arms and share damp secrets
in downy beds of night,
and great ferny trees rise from the loam like arrows
their branches fanning out emerald
against the startling blue sky.

Open a door onto a world where clouds gather in magnificent tufts
blanketing the sky in every shade of pale
until vapor spills over into rain,
covering every leaf and blade of grass
in a bath of freshness.

Open a door onto a world where fruits
take every shape and color - crisp, tart, juicy
they fill the belly until sleep comes.

Open a door to see that these creatures know beauty -
they make music of every variety
and build monuments of stone and glass
in delicate symmetry with unfathomable detail
rising like impossible caverns from the ground.
 
A world whose air is filled with insects and birds
whose very earth is teeming with fantastic life too tiny to see
but pulsing continuously and silently like blood flow, or air.

Open a door onto a world, a world whose invisible essence
is as powerful as its highest trees or wildest tempests
a world with heart, and the heart of this world
shines through it like sunlight through ice
everywhere sparkling
even in the starry blanket of night.

Open a door.
This is our world.

Well, thanks, readers, I think maybe this blog entry is long enough, though it makes think of lots more things to say.  Catch you next time, then.