Fields

 This morning I woke from a dream where I am standing and watching two tall and lean young men playing what I am tempted to call volleyball. They are playing in a field of knee-high yellow grass. The ball is red. There is not a hint of competition between them. As they gently lob the ball back and forth, their movements are soft, even elegant. There is no rush, no leaps or spikes, no lunging after a missed ball. There are no missed balls. There is no extraneous movement whatsoever, only a gentle back and forth arcing movement. It is calming to watch the rise and fall of the red ball. I do not remember how the two young men are dressed, but the combination of the red of the ball and the yellow of the grass is  beautiful. I hear no conversation or laughter, but the scene feels very real and alive.   

I woke thinking of my yoga class, maybe because my mat is yellow. Before class begins, there is conversation and laughter as each of us position and unroll our mats, and settle in. I find comfort on my mat, and I think most of the class does on theirs. Our various mats remind me of rafts that carry us individually, but also collectively. Silence settles in and class begins. Our journeys are not identical, but for a while we travel together. I believe healing is real.       

     

Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water. 
The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken. 
Although its light is wide and great, 
The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide. 
The whole moon and the entire sky 
Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass. 

~ Excerpt from "Original Face" by Dogen     

Standing on the Promises

 I have not told too many people about the dream that led me to decide to not retire from active ministry in January. I feel nudged to tell it now. 

In the dream there is a baby girl. She is not my child; I am tending to her for a friend. I am enjoying her presence. We laugh and talk together. She is a baby, so she is engaged with exploring all sorts of sounds. Her whole being is alive with communication.  I am speaking to her, not of grand thoughts, but those words and sounds that help me to encourage her to know her own love and her own shining brilliance. In the dream I am even changing her diaper, and since in this waking life I am an only child who never had children, I have never changed a diaper in my life. I continue to laugh and speak with her. 

When finished with the changing, I pick her up once more and we walk outside. We continue to laugh and "talk" with one another. We come to a road, but we do not cross. Then on the horizon to my left, I see thick dark clouds billowing. These are the darkest clouds I have ever seen. I simply stand with this smiling child in my arms. Neither one of us is afraid. Then from these boiling clouds I see a legion of heavily armored warriors thundering towards us, each astride a war horse that is also heavily armored. Darkness and thick dust threaten to envelope us but a light surrounds us. We do not run. The dust does not fall on us, but it is all around. The beautiful child does not cry, nor do I. In fact, we are still smiling, content in the moment of simply being with one another. I hold her lightly, but I know I will not drop her. I am holding her from my very core.  

I woke from the dream with a sense of certainty that now was not the time to retire from my community. I am grateful for that decision. I have learned to dig deep. I also try to talk to just about every child I meet. I think many of them are being born for a purpose that I may never know, but I want to be an encouraging presence now, even if it is only for  a few moments as we ponder strawberries in the produce aisle. 

I think of this dream this morning because I have just read a page from Steven Charleston's Ladder To the Light. Charleston is an elder of the Choctaw Nation. In addition to this role he has served as the Episcopal bishop of Alaska, as well as president of the Episcopal Divinity School. He is a steady unifying voice of courage on Facebook. I am deeply grateful for his presence and his writings. The following is from Chapter 3, "The Rung of Hope", page 57. 

 

Don't let the dark clouds fool you. They may pretend to own the heavens, stretching from horizon to horizon, ominous and commanding; a permanent shadow over our lives. But I know their secret: there is a world of sunlight behind them. One day, when the wind of change pushes them apart, that light will return to bathe the earth, to restore the vision of every person, to set right what has been broken. Stand firm in what you know and believe. Look up and do not be afraid, for when you feel the first breeze of hope, the clouds will soon be chased from the sky.   

 Yes, we are in serious times, but they will not have the last word. Blessed be.  And yes, on Sunday we will be singing "Standing on the Promises". It is a wonderful old hymn. Join us from wherever you are. The door is open and we sing to the wind. 

         

        

   

image:  East Bay Regional Park, Late Spring 2025

        

  

Succumb to Joy

 Last night I dreamt again of a laughing baby, 

this one the child of a sister who was preparing for her wedding day. 

My grandmother, still clinging on to the idea that babies 

should come after the wedding and not before, 

 was a bit cranky about the order of events, 

but the baby seemed quite happy 

with the chance to take part in a celebration. 

Eventually even my grandmother succumbed to joy. 

In a dream a few weeks ago

I changed the diaper of a tiny girl 

just before we were about to step out in darkness 

as armored men on thundering war horses

were fast approaching.

 Best to start out clean for that sort of thing.  

We smiled and giggled, and

Despite the darkness and the menacing noise

 she was not afraid, nor was I.  

  

I think we need to pay attention 

to the laughing babies around us,

and to the crying ones as well.  

They are here for a reason, 

and that reason is love. 

And so are we.      

     

 

  

image:  "Among the Nasturiums" San Leandro, February 2025

Locating

 In the dream I am looking for a new place to live.

 I have packed a few things;

I am ready to go.

I read a post by a famous writer. He mentions an apartment by a peaceful river.   

I think, "Yes, that is where I would like to go."  

I then realize that I do not know where this place is. 

 I send the famous person a note asking him for the location.  

What I received was a clear plastic gift bag, 

something like what one would receive at a conference. 

Like most conference gift bags, it held nothing of value (at least to me).  

 I set it aside and then walk through a large square building

 that is painted a sort of tan. 

Everything is a varying shade of brown or tan: outside, inside, 

even the carpet.

Not very interesting but certainly functional. 

I have dreamt of this building several times. Sometimes Tyler is with me;

Sometimes not. In this dream, he is not. 

Instead, I am walking with a young woman who with some authority, 

seems to be showing me around.

I spot an open space 

at the end of the hall by the stairs on the second floor of this multi-floor building. 

In these dreams I am always on the second floor. 

There I find a large desk. In fact, that is all this space holds.  

I sit at the desk and say, "This is perfect."

The young woman expresses concern:

"There is nothing here but a desk. Not even a door or a wall."   

Not looking at her but rather at the desk,

 I respond, "This is all I need."   

 

I then remember I have lived in this building all along.    

     

 

image:  Taken in Santa Cruz in October 2024. I think I may call it, "Vision While Pondering a Desk".

A Dream of Light

 In the dream I am walking on a path. The light reminds me of late twilight.  A man, tall and lean, crosses the path before me. He does not look at me. I see that he is carrying a small light. At first I think it is only a burning match, but I then see that he carries, not a match, but a small light encased in glass.  I also remember a small, still body of water by the path.  He would have walked over it to cross my path. 

I have dreamt of this man before, but it has been quite awhile since he has appeared (The last time he appeared he was in the form of fire. I believe I met him on this same path. The light was much the same.) Yesterday I told a friend about this recent dream. She suggested that I ask him where he wants me to go. Before I went to sleep last night I posed that question.    

I dreamed that I met the mother of a friend. In the dream she smiles and hands me a beautiful wooden flute. She also has one, and we play together.  She laughs so easily that I, too, can laugh.  In the dream I am happy. 

Yet, this morning I think of my own mother with sadness, and I feel the emptiness that I think has been with me for a long time. Perhaps it is to that emptiness where I am being led, to that part of me that my mother was simply not able to fill. I must remember that space is sacred. I must not rush to fill it because it is a space to inhabit. It is a place where love lives. I do not want  to crowd that out.   

   

"May I be content to wait in peace, 

until You stir the waters within to act;

may I be patient with myself

and with others. 

O that I may have the light of wisdom, 

the steadfastness of faith....

Guide me now, O Blessed One, 

along the path of peace."   

  

from Psalm 105 from Psalms for Praying by Nan C. Merrill  

For this meditation I changed Merrill's  plural pronouns to singular. 

Photograph was taken in my backyard, March 2023    

  

  

Just a Note

 In the dream I am waking only to realize that I had slept through a math class. I then deduce that the math class will never be completed. I move to a courtyard and there a woman asks me, "Have you graduated yet?" I tell her that I think I have a degree, but I am not sure. I decide to go see the registrar. 

I then go into an office and I explain why I am there. She looks at her computer and replies, "Well, you need to take a day class of Tai Chi and learn the Funky Chicken." I ask rather incredulously, "The one where you flap your arms around?"  She assured me my understanding was correct. She then adds, "And one more thing..." Alas, then I woke up. This is at least the second time I have received this open ended message, but I have yet to hear what that one more thing is. Maybe one more thing is ongoing?

In a few hours Tyler and I will leave for what I am calling, "a short jaunt up the coast". I love the word jaunt. Thank you for helping me remember the dream. Actually, I think one of the great gifts of friendships is that we help each other remember who we really are.   

 Now I am wondering if you do the Funky Chicken but no one sees you, does it still count?  I start physical therapy on Monday. Maybe I should wait until then to begin my training. For now, I think I probably need to simply tend to my travel preparations. 

     

   

image is from a walk this week. This is part of a very large plant. The branches are so large and heavy that they are falling over onto the sidewalk.  This is quite a spring. Even some of my own irises are blooming!

Viewing

 Early this morning I had a dream that took place in a church building. In the dream I am the pastor, and while in the dream we were not in our current location, I see people from the congregation I serve today. There were also several new people coming through the front door. I could hear the choir rehearsing, and in my waking life I do sing with the choir. In the dream I am thinking that while I should be rehearsing, I felt it was my responsibility to greet the visitors. I talked to each one. There was a young man and woman who were married, and several men who arrived separately. 

The young woman mentioned that she had never been baptized. Baptism to her meant that there were all sorts of rules to follow. I wanted to talk to her more about that, but just then I looked up and I could see a full moon through an overhead window. The moon appeared large and very close. I then realized that the moon was tilted on its axis, so I was viewing the "bottom" of the moon - a view we never see. For a few moments I was captivated by this tilted moon that seemed to be just outside the window. There were sparkles emanating from it, and the moon itself was a beautiful navy blue color with some other colors swirling around it, somewhat like Jupiter, but with colors that were darker and richer. I could see craters. Sparkles were flying everywhere, but did not seem to land on earth.  

I gasped and asked the young couple if they had seen the moon. They, rather matter of factly, replied that they saw it on the way to church that morning.  I then realized that while yes, it was Sunday morning, the sky I was looking at was a nighttime sky with a very large, tilted and energetic moon.   

This morning I woke up thinking of the dream, and also thinking of Lent. Even now, it  is easy to get caught up in the idea that Lent is just one long slog.  Yet, it can be a time of freedom. We can let go of a habit that holds us down, or we can explore something new. We can give away possessions that we really don't need, but someone else might. Just as there is no rule about how one should live into their baptism, there is no rule (I guess my Protestant roots are showing) on how we approach and move through Lent. 

May we all find a way to give us a new view of who we are in relationship to ourselves, one another, and the universe that surrounds us. That universe, which I understand to be God, is also within us. Lent gives us time to do some excavation and tidying up, so we can give God a little more room to move. I sense there are many surprises in store.  

            

     

    

image: I do not have an image that comes anywhere close to what I saw in the dream. A photograph of what looks to be a silver ocean will just have to do.  Light is a wonderful thing. Santa Cruz, 2019    

Not Lost

 I am a woman in search of a poem. Yes, that thought got me out of bed at 4:30 this morning.  I had just awakened from a happy dream. In my waking life, I take yoga at our local community center. It is an austere environment. However, the teacher of Iyengar yoga is methodical and caring, and some of my fellow students and I enjoy taking classes together. Across the street from the center is a busy park where students play baseball and other sports. Dog walking is also practiced there. In the dream, I cross the street, and walk through the park. In a back corner I discover a Japanese garden in need of attention.  

In the dream I am standing in front of a chain link fence with tall plants growing alongside it.  However, the plants had not been pruned well or regularly, and I could see a tennis court through the plants. I thought it was sad that the plants did not fully cover the fence. 

As I continued to stand there, a male employee walked up to me. We talked about how the garden needed attention. In just moments, I was given a green button down short-sleeved shirt, a badge declaring me a volunteer for the garden, and a key - to what I do not know. What I did know was that I was happy. I drove home in our truck and delightedly showed Tyler what I had been given.  

When I woke, I thought of a poem that had sustained me in my early days of seminary. I could remember only the first line: "Cut brambles long enough". I was concerned that I might have lost the poem. Fortunately, I could sort of remember part of the poet's name. That was enough, and I found the poem in a book, The Flowering of the Soul, edited by Lucinda Vardey. The book is a collection of poems and prayers written by women through the ages. This particular poem has no title, but it was written by Sun Bu-er, a female Taoist sage who was born in 1124. The date of her passing is not known. My New Testament professor, who also had a fondness for poetry, told me that there are those who believe that she did not actually die, but rather ascended. 

I am grateful for the reminder to return to the practice of tending to brambles. That is what writing does for me. It seems that is where my happiness resides. Perhaps that is both the key and the door.  

    

"Cut brambles long enough, 

Sprout after sprout, 

And the lotus will bloom 

Of its own accord:

Already waiting in the clearing, 

The single image of light. 

The day you see this, 

That day you will become it."   

 

Sun Bu-er  

    

When I pulled the book off the bookshelf, I was transported to the bookstore on the SFTS campus, where I purchased it. Both that bookstore and the one on the GTU campus were closed decades ago. I am grateful I was able to peruse both bookstores many times. Among their shelves I often found solace and inspiration to continue my studies all those years ago. This morning I sip oolong tea in celebration of it all. 

 

The image was taken a few years ago on a happy day with friends at Butchart Gardens in Victoria B.C.  

--

A Dream of Sky

 I admit that I rose reluctantly this morning. I was waking from a dream that I was not ready to leave. In the dream two friends, Tyler, and I were travelling down a road in our neighbor's pickup truck. Our neighbor was driving and Tyler was sitting in the front. The other friend and I were sitting comfortably in the backseat of this fairly large truck. Snow was everywhere, including on the road, but the road was smooth and stable. Our neighbor was driving slowly, but with steady confidence. No one else was out and about, but there were a few vehicles left by the side of the road. The land was white and very quiet. Ahead of us (not overhead for we were in daylight) was a beautiful midnight blue sky. Also straight ahead was a faint crescent moon, fairly high in the midnight blue sky, and some stars. Suddenly, there were long, thin golden strands of light falling in that beautiful sky. We were awestruck. No one said a word. 

Our road ended in a fork, but neither fork went anywhere. It was as if we had been led to this wondrous sky of moon, stars, and light. The long strands of golden light were still falling. 

The dream then shifted and we were in a small building. Our neighbor and Tyler were singing from a hymnal. I was looking for another copy. My friend who sat next to me was putting sheets of paper on the otherwise bare white walls. The paper was decorated like the sky, including the golden strands. 

I woke with the hymn, "Seek Ye First" in my mind. While I cannot say for sure that this was the hymn in my dream, it does seem to be an answer to a prayer that was in my heart in the middle of the night.

When I finally opened my eyes and got up, the waning gibbous moon was in the western sky.  Clouds appeared to be moving across it. Because of the moon's shape, it looked like it was pouring itself into the clouds. Then, the light in all directions turned a brilliant pink as the sun rose in the east.  For a moment, even the moon looked pink.

 Yes, worth getting up for.  

    

"Seek ye first the kingdom of God, 

and God's righteousness, 

and all these things shall be added unto you, 

Allelu, alleluia."

Karen Lafferty, Chalice Hymnal 

--

Dreaming of a Poem

 Detour

I took a long time getting here,
much of it wasted on wrong turns,
back roads riddled by ruts.
I had adventures
I never would have known
if I proceeded as the crow flies.
Super highways are so sure
of where they are going:
they arrive too soon.

A straight line isn’t always
the shortest distance
between two people.
Sometimes I act as though
I’m heading somewhere else
while, imperceptibly,
I narrow the gap between you and me.
I’m not sure I’ll ever
know the right way, but I don’t mind
getting lost now and then.
Maps don’t know everything.

~ Ruth Feldman (1911 -2003)

      

I woke from a dream this morning that I am pretty sure was inspired by this poem. Most Wednesday afternoons at  4, I meet on Zoom with two other people and we do lectio divina on a poem, and this week I read this poem. I love the whole process: the poem coming to me in one way or another, the time spent in short meditation, and our conversation afterwards.  It is a beautiful way to spend 45 minutes or so, and when we need to cancel for one reason or another, I miss it.  The traffic seems louder and the birds are more quiet. Poetry helps me hear the world's sounds as music, and I am grateful.  Others are welcome to join us! 

In the dream, I am gathered with several people I know. The room that is devoid of furniture. The walls are painted white, and we are pretty much just standing around and talking. A couple of people I hug because I have not seen them in quite awhile. Overall, it is a pleasant experience, if a little stilted. 

Somehow, some of us came to the conclusion that there was somewhere we needed to be. I remembered a street that I have dreamed about before, and I not only was certain we could get to where we needed to be, it would be enjoyable to walk up that street again. I assured this smaller group that the uphill climb is not as bad as it looks, and the neighborhood is interesting so there is always something to look at. We depart. 

When we get to the top of the hill, we see several  narrow passageways. I suggest that we take the winding hallway and stairs to the right. The hallway was  rather whimsical with color and different shapes and sizes, as were the stairs themselves. We continue to climb. We walk through a hallway with  rooms on both sides filled with fantastical furniture. There are no straight lines, and the rooms are open. There are no doors. Everything is painted in bold, beautiful colors. There are people in these rooms and they often smile and say hello. I am so happy, and I believe the others were having a good time as well, although someone would periodically ask, "Are you sure about this?"

We eventually get to the rooftop, but the stairs continue, not straight up, but rather lead us up and down through various open spaces on the roof. There are all sorts of people sitting on fancy couches or elaborate tables. We meet a young woman with very dark hair who tells us she is about to be married. She was wearing white, and some of the roof was painted white as well. She tells us how to return to the street. Again, we talk a path to the right, and we arrive at street level. The journey had been so wonderful, I actually felt a little let down. The street was quite linear and rather dull, but it was where we needed to be for now. While I knew, at least for now, that I could not go back,  I was certain I would again.  

This morning, I am grateful for that assurance.  

   

image: San Leandro, July 2023

A Good Friday Dream

In this morning's dream a friend and I somehow managed to get locked in a BART station at night. In the dream I never see this friend clearly,  but I know we arrived at the station together. I do not know where we had been or where we wanted to go. I do not know how we came to be in such a predicament, but we were quite anxious about it. We kept looking for an exit, but all were locked.  I looked out of one barred exit and could see a man on the steps, appearing to be sleeping. I called out, but my voice could not rouse him. At that point I did not know where my friend was. Do I look for her or do I continue to look for an exit? My anxiety increased. I then saw a young woman walking on the street above. I called out to her, asking for help. She came down the short flight of stairs and walked through a side door. At that moment I did not think about how she had walked through a door that I thought was locked, but I did walk up the stairs with her and thanked her for her help. Grateful to be outside, I thought I would simply go on my way, but I then remembered that I did know where my friend was. I went back down the short flight of stairs past the man who still had not awakened. As I walked through the door, I realized that in the brief amount of time when I was outside, a small cafe had been set up, and people were eating and having their morning coffee. Others were going down another set of stairs to get to the trains that would take them to their destinations. It was then that I realized that I had been worrying over nothing. All I really needed to do was patiently wait for the dawn. I then woke up. 

In a recent post, recording artist Carrie Newcomer mentioned a beautiful Quaker phrase: "Proceed as the way opens." This dream is a good example of the frustration and anxiety that occurs when that wise way of discerning is ignored. Most of us at one time or another have felt trapped in what feels like a tomb with no way out. In those times, it can be hard to trust. We think surely there must be something we can do to allow a quick exit. Sometimes yes, that is possible. However, usually not. This is one of the lessons of Holy Week. Jesus did not fly up that hill and soar to resurrection. He had to go, step by step. This is also a great lesson of meditation. We sit in silence, knowing breath by breath we must do the same.  There is no shorter route, however uncomfortable we may be.  

This dream was pretty much devoid of color, but what does stand out is that the young woman was wearing a white shirt. This morning I think of a white flag. She moved easily in the dream in a way I could not. I do not think she had any trouble surrendering to my plea for help. I think this is some of what  this dream is about. Learning to surrender when the way is not yet known, and surrendering to it when it is.   

 

Abandonment contains in itself pure faith, hope, and love. 

Jean-Pierre de Caussade         

 

Image:  San Leandro, 2014. This is one of my earlier images. I want a photograph of white that had no other color. Not easy to find on my camera roll!

Graduation

 I woke this morning from a dream where I am standing in the back of the Kent Mercantile store in Kent, TX. Yes, this is a real place, although it may not exist anymore ( I love that sentence. ) In the dream, I am standing in the back of the store, at the end of the horizontal cooler where cheese, cold cuts, and probably other items were kept. The man who worked there when I was riding the school bus, came up to me, handed me an envelope, and said, "Congratulations. You have graduated from seminary." Interesting. I wish I could remember his name. He introduced me to English muffins. Very exotic fare at the time. I liked them, and him very much.

image: San Leandro, January 2021. I came across this rose shortly after I muttered to myself, "I am so tired of photographing roses."

Timely

 I woke this morning of my 68th birthday  with a vision. I do not consider it a dream for there was no movement.  I shall try to describe it: 

In the upper left corner is what looks to me to be  a circular pen or corral made of rounded wooden posts.  In the center is a large old fashioned alarm clock, complete with a bell on the top of the clock that  always looks charming until the sound of its ringing  jars you awake  from a lovely sleep.  The face of the clock is white. The numerals and hands are black. The large hand is on 12; the small hand is on 4 or 5 (This is probably about the time I was having the dream.)  The front of the fence (could be a gate), is open wide, and some sort of stream was pouring from the clock.  It sparkles and  does not appear to be water.  I am standing in the stream in the foreground.   I am wearing a long grey dress and on my head is something like a wimple.  My hands are folded, but my head is not bowed. There is no movement. Even the stream is not moving. It really is like a painting.  I wish I could send this note to the surrealist painter, Remedios Varo. Yet, I suppose we all must find our own ways of bringing our dreams and visions to life.  Perhaps the dream is telling me that it is time.  I shall accept this gift.  

It would be a lovely gift to me if you all had a wonderful day today.      

    

 

photograph: San Leandro, September, 2021

Befriending the Lion

 Last night I dreamed that Tyler and I were visited by a lion.  In the dream we are living in our second apartment we rented decades ago, an apartment I liked very much.  In the dream I open the door and in walked a male lion with a full mane. He evidently had been waiting patiently for me to open the door. Yes, I was startled. He went directly to Tyler who was sitting at his computer in a room down the hall. The lion, despite his size,  jumped on his shoulders, not as a fierce predator, but  like a house cat wanting some attention.  The dream was actually very quiet. There was no screaming or roaring.  The lion moved beautifully with ease and purpose, and no hesitation whatsoever.  He knew why he was there. 

In June of 2019 I dreamed of a lion that was following me as I walked my dog along a path. In that dream I am terrified, but the lion simply followed us.  No, I never did grow comfortable with that lion's presence. Today, I feel gratitude that the lion has surfaced once more. What is his message?  Well, I was so surprised, I forgot to ask. I think it takes a while to become accustomed to a lion in one's life. What was particularly startling about my 2019 dream is that the following morning an image of Rousseau's "Sleeping Gypsy" surfaced  in my Facebook feed.  I have always loved this painting. I include my reflection from  2019. I had forgotten about the playful fawns darting in and out of the tall grass. Because I am no longer worrying about them, I can simply enjoy their playful presence on the journey.      

Today Tyler and I are stepping away and taking Jack for a walk.  It really is time to open the door. 

 

Last night I dreamed: 

A lion was walking 

along a dirt road 

that ran along a freeway.  

I wanted to walk that 

path but I was full of fear 

for myself, 

my dog, 

and the small fawns 

darting in and out 

of the bushes

in play. 

I thought, 

"Surely this lion 

is from a zoo. 

We do not have lions 

like this around here."

 

So afraid! 

Yet, he never roared 

and he never chased. 

He simply continued to walk 

that dusty path 

which I suddenly 

could not trust.   

  

This morning, 

when I had forgotten 

the dream, 

this image came. 

 

I must learn to trust 

the lion,

 the art, 

the dream;

most of all 

the dusty road 

where one meets 

Christ

 in all sorts of guises 

trying to nudge us

awake.       

    

image:  Wikiart    

  

     

Surfacing

 I recently had a dream where I am walking on the floor of a sea. I am neither worried, nor elated that I am walking under water. What does concern me is that there seems to be no sea life. There is no color, no fish. I am actually walking in a structure made of grey stone. It has no roof and no floor,  but it does not seem to be a ruin. I continue to walk through empty chambers and hallways. It is not a large building but the stone work is of high quality.  

As I continue to ponder the lack of sea life, I look up. A large pod of what I called whales are swimming above me. I cannot see details because the whales are quite far above me. As I remember this dream, I think the creatures look more like dolphins, but in the dream I know them as whales. I am grateful to see them, but I become concerned again because there does not seem to be any sea life.  I ask, "What are they eating?" There are quite a few of them.  They appear to be black; the sea is grey and very still.  They swim on.  I wake before the last whale passes. 

This morning I share the color red.  The first red offering is a painting by American Surrealist Kay Sage (1898-1963) . The painting is entitled, "Festa". This artist is a new discovery for me. When I first saw it, I felt such a surge of freedom.  Only later did I see that there is a spear-like object attached towards the bottom of what I will for now call a veil. 

The second is a photograph that I took a couple of weeks ago.  I have also recently had a dream of an old woman who was completely cloaked in black. In the dream I am in an office and I see her coming down the hall. I am not frightened. In the dream I know she is there to clean. I am at a desk sorting through files. I move to the foyer to make room for her to clean. For now I think of her as a Wisdom figure, so when I look at this photograph, I think that maybe she is being revealed. I continue to welcome her

The next image is a Frida Kahlo painting. According to the notes I have seen,  she completed this painting about 8 days before she passed.  "Long live life"  is the translation.  Poignant.  She was in physical pain most of her life.   

I was going to stop there, but I was finally able to get a good picture of a rose that grows not far from where we live.   

 

 I come back to a poem I recently received.  The image of the blackbirds seems to mirror the image of the whales in my dream.   

 

I continue to ponder red in our "curving and soaring world". 

 

I am 52 years old, and have spent
truly the better part
of my life out-of-doors
but yesterday I heard a new sound above my head
a rustling, ruffling quietness in the spring air

and when I turned my face upward
I saw a flock of blackbirds
rounding a curve I didn’t know was there
and the sound was simply all those wings
just feathers against air, against gravity
and such a beautiful winning
the whole flock taking a long, wide turn
as if of one body and one mind.

How do they do that?

Oh if we lived only in human society
with its cruelty and fear
its apathy and exhaustion
what a puny existence that would be

but instead we live and move and have our being
here, in this curving and soaring world
so that when, every now and then,
mercy and tenderness triumph in our lives
and when, even more rarely,

we manage to unite and move together
toward a common good,

and can think to ourselves:
ah yes, this is how it’s meant to be.

~ Julie Cadwallader Staub  

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Morning Questions, Part 2

The poem below was based on a dream I had in June, 2019. The only reason I remember it is because it popped up on Facebook. I am grateful. I don't remember writing and posting this, but the memory is sparked and I remember this fish.  Early this morning I dreamed that I had just jumped out of an airplane.  A companion was with me.  I guess we were falling, but what I remember is that we were holding hands and floating. The air was gently moving all around us.  I felt supported.  The parachute had not yet been opened, but neither one of us seemed afraid. I remember smiling.  I neither hear nor see the airplane, but we did have old-fashioned aviator helmets on our heads.  

There is so much strife and sorrow right now and for too many, gentleness and support seem elusive.  I was thinking that perhaps I was through with writing; I had nothing pertinent to say to the struggle of the times.  Yet, this morning I think that we all can dream, and sometimes we just might dream for all.      

Morning Questions

I dreamed of a fish
covered with expertly
placed glinty scales.
With bright eyes wide open
it moved silently through
the glittery waters.
Light was everywhere.

I woke thinking of
Apostle Paul's
knowing we are
clothed in Christ.

Can I really move so freely,
donned in such light,
breathing in and breathing out,
going only where the river
takes me,
trusting in that great flow?

Really, where and how else
could I possibly go?

say, June 2019  

"... for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ."
Galatians 3:26-27