A Dream and a 15th Century Advent Poem

Last night I dreamt that I was traveling through a city that I have dreamt about before. In the dream I am downtown and as always in my dreams, it is dark. There are others with me. I do not know who is driving - it could even be me. However, I do know we are on our way to a class and we are moving through a very hilly downtown. We decide to get out and walk. I do not know why we choose to do that, but now we are walking on a sidewalk that is actually a narrow, crumbling path on a fairly low cliff just above the ocean. The sun reflects off the rippling water and everything is bathed in beautiful light. We cautiously walk in a single file; there is no room to do otherwise, and it would be very easy to get distracted by the beauty and tumble into the sea. The day is clear and the colors are vibrant. The bright light bounces off the brilliantly blue water and sparkles like stars. Gently cresting waves are topped with pristine foamy white on our right, and to the left are small bungalows, each with its own for sale sign. Each dwelling has a small patch of well trimmed emerald green grass for a lawn, and they each are painted a different pastel color from the ones on either side. I marvel that these coastside properties have not been taken up by the wealthy for mansions, and I say out loud that here it seems almost anyone can live by the ocean.

We continue our single file walking, and we begin to discuss where we are going. We are on our way to study with a teacher. I have not met him, but I seem to know what he looks like. I believe him to be East Indian, and he helps people to learn about death. I am told that he will want to touch me on my left shoulder. This is not a somber walk. We do not journey in fearful silence, but neither are we boisterous. We simply seem to be enjoying ourselves and the beauty that surrounds us. I think there are less than ten of us. The teacher's name is never spoken. I believe that this is the first time I have ever been with these fellow students.

At the end of the dream the crumbling path begins to take a fairly gentle downward slope. A paved road is just ahead of us, and despite the fact that we are walking along a cliff, the road seems to cross our path, not just intersect. I do not know which way we should go, and I am grateful there are others ahead of me who are walking confidently.

I then wake.

+++

Today is the second day of Advent. I love this season when we hear again the ancient stories, hymns, and poems inspired by the birth of Jesus. I never tire of hearing about the dreams, the angelic encounters, the excitable shepherds, the sojourning mystics, and all of those who said yes to being a part of the story. It is encouraging to hear the ancient words of the prophet Isaiah reminding us once more to trust God; the way will be made plain, and that we, too, even though we sit in darkness, will see a great light. Yesterday I reminded my congregation that I believe all these wondrous stories, and I believe the retelling of them is so vital, particularly in these jaded times. We all need to learn to dream again. Perhaps in my dream we were on our way to meet Christ. If that is true, then Christ was with us in every wobbly step.

I leave you with the following poem that I found in a publication many years ago. Alas, that publication,"Thin Places", is no longer in existence, but this beautiful poem lives on. As far as I know, the author and the original source continue to be unknown. The photograph is mine.

I also leave you with the encouragement to pay attention to your dreams. You may be surprised to learn who may be tapping you on the shoulder.

Thou shalt know him when he comes

Not by any din of drums

Nor the vantages of airs

Nor by anything he wears

For his presence known shall be

By the holy harmony

That his coming makes in thee.

A Change of View

I woke yesterday morning from a dream where I was driving through a small desert town. I am glancing at my map, and it tells me I need to be on West Winn. I am on East Winn and there  is no West Winn in sight. I turn around and stop at a local, kind of run down bar. I am stopping there not to get a drink (In my waking life I no longer drink and it seems I no longer drink even in my dreams!) but to ask for directions. Everyone in the bar was watching a soccer game, and the first half was just coming to a close. Suddenly, the bar patrons began to change seats. I looked at the screen, and everyone on the screen was changing not only seats but were actually walking across the field and finding new seats on the other side of the small stadium.   

I spoke to a woman who also was just walking in. She introduced herself as the owner and, in contrast to the patrons and myself,she was professionally dressed in a red suit and matching heels. She said her name was Anna Baek, which she pronounced "Beck" (not sure when I learned the spelling). I mentioned how surprised I was to witness the seat changes, and asked if this happens in the big stadiums. She replied not so much anymore, but definitely in the smaller ones.

After people settled in once more, I asked for directions. I was assured by several people, including Anna Baek, that if I continued on East Winn I would eventually come to West Winn. I spoke aloud that I was a little skeptical. I then laughed and said okay, I would try again. There was something about the town, the simple, slightly run-down bar, and the people who also looked to be slightly run-down that I liked. I felt an inherent goodness all around me. I was tempted to stay overnight, maybe even longer. I woke before I made my decision, but I did wake with a smile on my face.    

This dream of changing sides reminds me of a wonderful story that I recently discovered in a sweet and generous book of essays entitled One Long River of Song written by Brian Doyle. In his essay entitled "The Hawk", he tells the story of a man who one summer took up residence on his former small town football field. Doyle wrote that the man, called Hawk, had been a terrific player in high school, showing an ability to wait, yes, like a hawk, until the perfect moment to strike. The name took hold. Hawk went on to play in college and then on to a career Doyle describes as being located in "the nether reaches of the professional ranks, where a man might get paid a hundred bucks a game plus bonuses for touchdowns and sacks". Hawk's career dwindled even more, and one summer he returned to his home field to stay awhile. The town actually let him do so. In turn he kept the field and surrounding area picked up and clean. People would drop by with cookies and sandwiches to see how he was doing. One woman left him coffee every morning. He told Doyle that sometimes he would sit on the visitor's bench, something he had never done before. One day a reporter came to get Hawk's opinion on what she called the "collapse of the social contract". He told her about the cookies and sandwiches. He then told her of the time when a woman stopped by with two infants. She let him hold one "that weighed about half of nothing". He and the young mother talked about football. He then asked the reporter the question, "What could be better than standing on a football field, holding a brand-new human being the size of a coffee cup? You know what I mean? Everything else is sort of a footnote."  

In a nation so polarized, I find comfort in the idea of periodically changing our viewpoints to get at least a glimpse of what the other side is seeing. Sometimes people cross mountains to do that. Sometimes, we simply get up from our comfortable seat to offer help to someone who is having trouble reading the map.

 

Worth Pondering

 This morning I came across this quote by Father Greg Boyle of Homeboy Industries.  I have always appreciated his straightforward language,attitude, and love as he goes about his ministry. Sometimes holidays can pose difficult expectations, making love seem impossible. Perhaps this might help?   

Blessings on your week and go ahead, let your love be known (especially to yourself), 

Sue Ann   

      

"Cherishing is love with its sleeves rolled up."

Father Greg Boyle        

    

     

        

image: Neighborly persimmon tree, November 2025

Vision Quest

 "Once we realize that the nature of our existence is beyond thought and emotions, that it is incredibly vast and interconnected with all other beings, the separation and fear and hope all fall away. It is a tremendous relief."

Jetsunma Tenzin Palmo

First Sip

    
 

If you are trying to follow the way of Jesus, you and/ or your church may be making plans for Advent. One of those plans probably include lighting a candle of hope on November 30, the first Sunday of Advent. When I read this post this morning, I found  myself asking, "How do we live without hope? Won't that simply leave us even further adrift?"  Then I realized that this comment  is a nudge to let go of our little self-focused hopes that are too often just cravings. We yearn for satisfaction, but such satisfaction usually does not last very long. Our hope needs to be much bigger. We need a vision for humanity.   

I vaguely remembered Jetsunma Palmo's name so I went to the internet for more information. I was reminded that she was the subject of a book, Cave in the Snow, written by Vicki Mackenzie (published in
1998). A friend of mine recommended the book to me a few years ago. I read it and loved it. This morning I am thinking I should read it again. The book is the true story of Jetsunma Palmo choosing to live alone for twelve years in a remote and high cave in the Himalayas, and  her emergence from the cave with a vision to establish a women's convent in India. She then worked to bring that vision to fruition. That is the power of vision.

Yesterday I went downtown, and as I walked, I felt some dismay. I was seeing a lot of poverty, and I thought that what I was seeing was a lack of hope. And I may have been. However, today I think I was seeing more. I believe what I was witnessing was a lack of vision. Regardless of what is happening politically, we cannot surrender our dreams to those in power. They cannot dream for us; their hopes and visions are too limited. We are more.        

I now see Advent as a vision quest. We light candles that wait on our communal and personal altars. In that waiting there is God, who is also waiting - waiting again to be born in the caves of our minds and hearts to bring light into our world. That light is not for a select few. It is for all to see - and live.   

    

"Because of our God's deep compassion; 

the dawn from heaven will break upon us,

to give light to those who are sitting in darkness

and in the shadow of death, 

to guide us on the path of peace."      

Luke 1:76-79  ( Zechariah speaking to his newly born son, John. Perhaps he sang this prophecy; we really do not know.)   

  

        

   

image: San Leandro, March 2025

Food for Thought

 The following excerpt from Nan C. Merrill's rendition of Psalm 137 came to me this morning in an email from Friends of Silence. I am reminded that we all need to give some thought as to where, and with whom, we are dropping anchor.  The image of the anchor is believed to have had deep meaning for early Christians who were suffering persecution, and I found some lovely  images online. The word anchor is actually not mentioned in the Psalms or any part of the Hebrew scriptures, but does appear in the New Testament in Hebrews 6:19 and in the story of Paul's shipwreck in Acts. Nan C. Merrill never claimed that her renditions of the psalms were translations. However, I do at times like today, find inspiration in her work.     

As I was pondering all this, I decided to eat an energy bar. I am about to take a walk, and I do not believe that the few slices of apple that I ate earlier will sustain me for much  longer. While perusing the cupboard, I found a well-aged RX Bar which I ate. I just realized that on the label, there is a depiction of an ancient Christian image of an anchor.

  

Thusly fueled, I go forward, grateful that we are held.      

   

  

Hide not from Love, O friends,
sink not into the sea of despair,
the mire of hatred.
Awaken, O my heart, 

that I drown not in fear!

Too long have I sailed where'ere
the winds have blown!
Drop anchor!

 

~ Nan Merrill, Psalm 137 from PSALMS FOR PRAYING    

  

     

One Key, Many Doors

 In the dream Tyler and I are at a lovely hotel in San Diego. He is scheduled to attend a conference; I am along as the spouse. While the dream does not reveal what kind of conference Tyler is to attend, we know he has a friend George, who is attending a real estate conference in the same hotel. We have learned that George is perturbed. His complaint is that he bought a very expensive suit and tie, and rented a luxurious limousine for this event. Upon arrival, he realized such items are not needed. 

George visits our room and tells me that his wife, Joy, is not happy, and has decided to stay in their room all day and watch tv. I think to myself that surely they have come too far to such a beautiful place just to watch tv. Even though I do not know her, I suggest that she and I go to the hotel gym, which is reported to be very extensive.  He replies that he thought that was a great idea and that he would go talk to her. I decide to visit the restroom in the meantime. Despite our luxurious surroundings, the bathroom is the very small bathroom in the first house where my parents and I lived on the ranch. I find that odd, but not particularly concerning.

When I return to the main living area, I am surprised to see George and Joy standing there. We all hug. Tyler, who apparently had stepped out for a few minutes, joins us. There is much laughter.  I then realize that I actually had not met George and Joy until now, but the laughter and hugs makes me feel like I have known them for a long time.

 I also realized that George was able to access our room without us letting him in. I commented on that, and he casually responded, "All our keys open all doors." 

I woke this morning with a smile and a sense of expansiveness. I hear "In my Father's house are many dwelling places (John 14:2)."  

We have the key to go where we need to be. Regardless of our destination, we will always be in the vastness of God that can be found in our very own hearts.  

    

  

      

      

   

"I will lead you along fresh trails of adventure,

 revealing to you things you did not know."     

Jesus Calling, Sarah Young    

 

image:  an older photograph, mine. 

Wisdom of the Stones

 "When I look inside and see that I am nothing, that is wisdom. When I look outside and see that I am everything, that is love.” 

Sri Nisargadatta  (1897-1981)

 

The photograph was taken at the Hickison Petroglyphs on our journey home via Hwy 50 through Nevada.  A beautiful journey. This morning I am pondering that very small stone in the foreground. Even stones are on a journey, and it was a blessing to be with them for a short while. I have much to think about. 

       

 

    

   

image:  September 2025