Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Dreams and Past Lives

January 31, 2010

I believed in past lives before I even knew I believed in past lives. Being raised Catholic, the concept surely wasn’t ever taught to me. But when I was little I can recall myself saying such things as, “I know I can do this because in a past life I used to…” It always made sense to me, and I could just see it; I seemed to remember. Later when I began studies with a spiritual teacher who understood the human journey in this way, everything felt like it clicked into place. It seemed like common sense to me. Most of the religions and people of the world accept reincarnation as just the way things are. The notion was extracted from Christianity at some point for reasons that might be suspicious, and then the Western world view developed without inclusion of the idea.

Lately I have been feeling a past life move in on me. This is always a good thing, in my experience. Something wants to get finished, a debt cleared, or a previously developed strength is coming back for reintegration. Similar to the way some people can smell weather patterns in the wind, I seem to smell things like this moving in. I had three dreams last night that I think affirm what I’m sensing now. In the first part of the dream, some helpful downloads had just come through; in the second part, several big gorgeous cats – like a jaguar, and a blond one that size, and some others – were all walking toward me, looking me in the eye, no threat at all, they were just coming; third part of the dream, my daughters are receiving a huge inheritance.

I’m sure there is more, but this is how I sense the dream. I think it came in the context of my feeling that a past life energy system is moving in. The first part of the dream is clear; helpful information downloading. The cats, I believe, are my psyche’s way of picturing big energy coming toward me, and the dream seems to say not to worry, there’s no threat here. And the third part speaks to me of the value of doing this kind of work for future generations. The bible talks about the sins of the fathers being visited upon the generations to come. Carl Jung observed that the psychological work that a person leaves unfinished is left for his or her children to grapple with. We don’t do this work for ourselves, we do it for everybody, really.

I’m writing about this in case it helps anyone else think new thoughts about things their lives or their dreams. As physicist David Bohm says, our brain doesn’t pick up on information until we have a concept for it. And then I’m sure we all have experienced that once we have a concept we often start to see it everywhere and wonder why we never noticed before. Our lives and dreams are full of so much information not yet being picked up. It’s good to keep working on our concepts.

Leaving Kansas

January 30, 2010

A good friend, a recording artist and musician, RB Morris, is doing a show tonight in Knoxville with some artists coming in from Nashville and I had hoped to go. I’m snowed in on the mountain, and have to accept the reality of this as much as I’d like to be there. RB and I had an e-mail exchange this morning as he was checking in to see what it is looking like up here, where he too owns property. I told him the situation I am having to come to terms with and mentioned that “I’m not in Kansas (read Southern California) anymore.” This does not match my life there in hardly any way at all, and I’m often confronted with that. As another mountain friend articulated yesterday, she tries to tell people what it’s like up here when the weather buries us like this and they really can’t conceive of it. It really is an abstraction until you’re in it. Physically, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually there are huge effects that can only be felt, not communicated. I just know I’m not in Kansas anymore.

A friend and shaman used to say as we were launching 5 day immersions into the dreamtime and shamanic work, “We’re leaving Kansas now.” The saying was even used in Avatar, I noticed, so it must be a familiar methaphor to describe having left behind everything that feels like home, moving into an Oz-like experience.

I was born and raised in Kansas. My family moved when I was 12 and I have lived in several places since then. I live in the mountains of Appalachia now among people whose ancestors have lived in these hills and hollers for hundreds of years. They are a rooted people. For many, no amount of money or corporate opportunity could make them want to move away from the places, the people and a life that they love. It is a dominant value system that I have not lived with for this length of time before. I am an anomaly to them, an “outsider” of the kind they usually do not take in to their lives and hearts. But they have taken me in by some grace, and it is a learning experience like no other. After years of immersion in life here and I am only beginning to move this reality out the realm of a just a concept in the mind into a felt sense at a cellular level. I find myself reflecting on issues of home and roots beyond the ways these issues had ever lived in me before. Surely there is some kind of destiny in this, but it remains a mystery at this point.

Jesus’ saying that only in losing your life will you find it comes to mind. Surely I must have needed to leave Kansas (on all of the multi-leveled methaphorical meanings of it) in order to have the hope of finding it. But what is it? I’m just posing the question. Once while I was solidly married, in a solid career, with two small children in what I thought was a stable life I had a dream that said, “My skin is my home.” It felt powerful, but also pretty random at the time. It has meant a lot to me ever since, though I don’t always exactly why beyond obvious interpretations.

I believe with Niestzsche that the dragon upon whom every scale represents a “should” must be slain. I don’t think in terms of how anyone should or should not live their “one wild and precious life.” (Mary Oliver) I say this to dash any interpretation of my meaning that might be made as such. The diversity of life styles is essential. I want to say what I notice in the values I find here, though, that I haven’t noticed elsewhere in environments where everyone seems to be rushing about in scattered and disconnected ways, always going somewhere, and it seems like everybody is from somewhere else. I have always been that person for sure, and most people I met seemed to be similar in that way.

These mountain people are connected. They are connected to each other for generations back; and connected to everything around them. They can tell you, “The well used to be over here, and the road over there, and these plants aren’t native here, and my granny used to give us those for a stomach ache.” Their senses often strike me as more like those of animals in the forest, naturally alert,  not numbed by having to shut out noises that bombard us in urban life. They are generally aware in ways I have not seen before, even (or especially) in all my years of spiritual pursuits and studies. This is a human, earthy awareness. I am a tumbling tumbleweed that rolled in and stopped. Just by being with them, surely not because of their thinking in terms of any “shoulds”, they are gently and respectfully trying to help me put in a root here and a root there, to feel what it feels like with earth and life coming up through my root, and the sky shining down on me planted, feeding this rooted life in the way that sky cannot feed the life of a tumbleweed.

If it were not for this snow, I could be out on the Interstate making my way to Knoxville for the show tonight that I really wanted to see. I’m snowed in. But maybe I was wrong this morning when I said I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Maybe this is Kansas.

A New Cosmology

January 29, 2010

Last evening I had plans to listen to a teleseminar that a friend told me about. Brian Swimme would be giving a live lecture. He is a scientist and cosmologist whose work has inspired me for the better part of two decades, who I quoted almost as often as Carl Jung in my doctoral dissertation. All you have to do is register on a website, www.evolutionaryspirituality.com and they tell you how to phone in to hear their lectures and teleconferences. Cool. It was supposed to start at 8:30 EST. I got situated and ready to call, only to find out that the schedule had changed to start at 10:00. I didn’t think I would have brain power by then, so decided to wait to download the lecture from their site today; which I have done and can’t wait to listen.

So, what to do when I’m all geared up to hear Brian Swimme? I put on a recently received Netflix movie, Taking Woodstock, having no idea what to expect. To my delight and surprise I laughed out loud and cried the happy kind of tears all the way through it. Why did I not hear more about this movie when it came out? What makes Ang Lee Ang Lee? How can he be such an extraordinary filmmaker?  This movie is so great!  I highly recommend it; and will add that if you haven’t seen the original Woodstock documentary, see that first because Lee makes a lot of visual references to that film and it is a lot more fun if you know what he’s doing.

The delight continued as I realized that the universe was playing with me. I had been looking forward to hearing Brian Swimme’s recent thoughts about how to re-invent ourselves as humans, how to allow for an entirely new cosmological perspective to replace the dead, dying, crippling, destructive one we are living. He has a way of  bringing light into the darkness of our collective ignorance and inertia so we can see what went wrong and how to re-think such things as war, separateness, man against man, man against nature. I remember him saying once, “Something sinister happened to the human group.” He has an evolutionary perspective that is clear, helpful and inspiring.

However, this movie told a brilliant and amazingly similar story to what I was hoping to enjoy last night. It shows a miserable, rotting, impoverished, unhappy little community in New York unable to bring any spark of life back to its world when suddenly the Woodstock phenomenon blew through on very short notice. Three days of peace, love and music bringing with it an astoundingly new bright shiny cosmological perspective. It can happen that fast, and that thoroughly, my mind was saying. It can, it really can my mind was saying! Thinking about Brian Swimme set me up to see and appreciate this movie in a way I’m not sure I would have otherwise.

The universe is exploding with intelligence and possibilities. How can we imagine that we are stuck? We have to stop imagining such ridiculous things and re-imagine everything. We can, we can, we can. And we must. And we will. 

From Lewis Carroll: “`There is no use trying,’ said Alice; `one can’t believe impossible things.’ `I dare say you haven’t had much practice,’ said the Queen. `When I was your age I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.'”

Obama on Spaceship Earth

January 28, 2010

R. Buckminster Fuller was a good friend of my father’s, so I had the distinct privilege of growing up spending family vacation times with him and has family on Bear Island, off the coast of Maine, of having him often as a house guest, and of being with him as he spoke on many occasions. I have said many times that I believe that he, more than anyone else, has influenced me in my thinking, in who I have become and how I have lived my life as an adult.

I remember once someone asking him, “What would be the first thing you would do, Mr. Fuller, if you were elected President of the United States?” Bucky’s answer: “Resign.” He went on to explain that Washington is a gridlock of politics and special interests and – he said it so eloquently I cannot possibly quote him justly –  that it is no place to get anything of real meaning or importance accomplished. A visionary like Bucky would not even waste time trying.

Now we have a visionary for President. I remember hearing President Obama’s recent tone of voice while in a gymnasium in Ohio saying, with a big breath, “It’s so NICE to be out of Washington.” He could breathe again. Last night in his first State of the Union address before he even emerged to speak the newscasters were saying that he will be campaigning against Washington as much, or more, than any other agenda. Can we overcome the “numbing weight of our politics?” he pleaded. Throughout all of his speaking I felt I was hearing, (many call me naïve and that’s ok), a person with a vision like Lincoln’s, Martin Luther King Jr.’s, or Nelson Mandela who is actually trying to work out how in the world to get something done in Washington. And, as we are seeing, there is absolutely no guarantee of success. He may not be able to accomplish anything that is in his heart to do to his or our satisfaction.  But, as indigenous people know, in a true right of passage there is never a guarantee of success, or of survival. The rite would not have the power to transform if such a guarantee were there. I believe that those of us who put Obama in this position, and that he, and our nation are entering into the tremendous possibility of going through a true rite of passage. We are a young, adolescent nation seeking to pass from a stage of narcissistic, self-involved, short-sighted hubris into a stage of adulthood and maturity; to become a responsible, wise people and country. We may not make it. There is certainly no guarantee.

Once I was with Buckminster Fuller and several others having lunch in a restaurant in Santa Monica, California – I think it was about 1980. I happened to be sitting right across from him at a long, narrow table. Bucky seemed agitated and distracted. Finally I decided to ask him if he was alright. He told me, and again I am unable to quote his eloquent words exactly, that he really wasn’t sure we were going to make it, and he was fearing that we might not. I understood that “we” meant humanity on Spaceship Earth. (See his book Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth.) He described to me the horror that he felt that it might take another 50 years for humans to wake up and move off of the dangerous path of destruction we are on, and he thought we might not have that much time. His last book titled Critical Path  is full of his thinking, warnings and recommendations.

Certainly a man with a mind like Bucky’s is hard to summarize and I’m not one to attempt it. But I will remark on one of his crucial messages; that is the dangers he perceived in the increasing specialization in every area of our science and thinking, as if we are not one whole system of earth. I am reminded of Bucky every time I am assigned to go to a different doctor for every joint or organ in my body, as if my body is not one whole system. Last night Obama referred to the brief period after 9/11 when we were united rather than divided, and he wondered aloud how we might get that back. For that moment in time the issues of our infighting seemed insignificant, and we knew above all else that we are one nation, and that for our very survival we must conceive of ourselves as such. It was a transpersonal reality we were in, and I think everyone could feel it.

Bucky, of course, looked way beyond concern for unity within a nation, desperately trying to describe that for survival, we must realize that we are one world, travelling through space on a delicate, exquisitely designed spaceship. For each one of us to not hold this truth above everything else at all times is to be on a critical, suicidal path.

Bucky explained that Einstein’s great discovery of E =Mc2 proved that our metaphysical reality is master over our physical reality, and that this discovery irrevocably changes the way we must think and approach every aspect of human operation. What did we do with the discovery? We made a bomb. Einstein did not even remotely have something like that in mind.

I submit that now, in 2010, at every single level of human interaction we surely have to change course from defending ourselves against each other to helping each other. Charity begins at home, within our own psyches. How can we insist that from this point on we will look at every other human not as other, but inextricably part of our one body of humanity; and at every system on earth as a vital, living part in the delicate operation of our spaceship home. Can we  together – with love, compassion, humor, wisdom, and complete focus on our purpose – make it through this right of passage? Yes, I believe we can.

I’ll stop here, but want to end with a quote from Bucky’s book, Operating Manual for Spaceship Earth, p.36:

This is the essence of human evolution upon Spaceship Earth. If the present planting of humanity upon Spaceship Earth cannot comprehend this inexorable process [the meaning of Einstein’s discovery] and discipline itself to serve exclusively that function of metaphysical mastering of the physical it will be discontinued, and its potential mission in universe will be carried on by the metaphysically endowed capabilities of other beings on other spaceship planets of universe.”

After the Storm, Love

January 27, 2010

I have had a wild last several days, with an epic length, horrible nightmare with no redeeming quality in it to top off the days. Yesterday I drove into town to lead a dream group feeling like I had just emerged from a train wreck; disoriented, my brain felt in shock, my body all beat up. At least I was not going to an accounting appointment! Thankfully I was suited for the dreamwork if for anything else.

I went to bed knowing I have to sort through the rubble after the storm, with much to figure out. I slept, a gift I do not take for granted. And I dreamed all night long a dream of being in love with a charming, interesting. very nice-looking Spanish fellow who loved me back just as much. We were preparing for travels and going to events and talking and very happy. His family loved me too, and gifted me with soft, comfortable, well made clothing. When I awakened I felt soothed and marinated in deep, sweet feeling states. Thank you gods of the dream.

It reminds me a of when my father had to spank us after we had done something that called for it. He would spank, then close the door to leave us in the room to contemplate our wickedness. Without fail, he was back shortly to wrap us up in his arms and tell us how much he loved us and settle us after the trauma. Similar to the way make-up sex works later in life. There is something about nature that seems to bring Love out mightily after she delivers big spankings, as she did in my dream last night. And as is pouring out toward Haiti now. That country has needed this tidal wave of love from the world forever, but not until it got walloped like this did nature bring it on. I don’t know if it will ever be enough, but it sure is something to see the response.

I believe, with all of me, that when life’s storms come no matter what kind they are, this response of love and grace can be counted upon. It is the way things are. I am surprised that I am always surprised when the love comes to me, as it is observable everywhere, always. But the surprise is part of the beauty. I have experienced this today and want to express my love back. I do love the world.

The Dream Lady

January 26, 2010

Driving toward home on these country dirt roads last week I met with a van that was coming down the mountain. The driver stopped to ask for directions; he was a chimney cleaner who had cleaned my chimney last year. He recognized me and said, “You’re the dream lady!” Well I guess I am.

Today I’m thinking that the Rip Van Winkle-esque sleep that I woke up from and wrote about yesterday set me up for what was to come last night. That long sleep might have been an immersion into the dreamtime so that I could move a little deeper and further into its terrains. I did not come back from that sleep with significant dreams; but last night’s dream was seminal. And a nightmare. I thought, in the dream, that D.H. Lawrence had written the same story in one of his novels and it was being lived out in my own life  just a little differently from his telling. Due to the archetypal quality and insights in his writings, the patterns in human nature and the stories are recognizable; again this was a dream thought. “Oh, this is like D.H. Lawrence’s novel,” I mused, (though in waking life the story doesn’t actually resemble any of his books.) If I were to do justice to recording last night’s dream I would almost be writing a novel; the scenes, character and plot development were intricate and highly developed. Each person’s psychology and choices influenced the evolution of everything else. And it was a terribly sad story.

I think I will be unpacking this one for a long time, and I have hope that it will illuminate some areas of psyche in need of witnessing, understanding and compassion. I can feel empathy and understanding for each of the characters, no matter what role they played. I’ve been asking for a dream to provide insight into some mysterious aspects of my psychological life. I’m very grateful for a response; but am also reminded: Be careful what you wish for.

Unplug and Reset

January 25, 2010

I committed to write every day for 40 days, and yesterday it didn’t happen. I actually wrote a piece into a Word file, but because of a storm going on outside I had no internet service and could not post it. So I think I will just trust the wisdom of that and not post it.

But there is more, and it is a mystery to me. I could not sleep on Saturday night, and finally fell asleep on Sunday morning about dawn. After a few hours I tried to wake up and could not. This continued several times during the day. I finally got up at some point and ate, fed my dog, and wrote but I could not awaken. I was sleepwalking. It was a stormy, cold, windy day outside so I did what I never seem to do anymore – I gave myself the day off and got in bed to read. But I couldn’t read, so I went back to sleep. I slept, and slept, and slept and slept – all evening, all night, and all the next morning. I did not know a body could sleep so long unless it is in a coma. Almost 30 hours straight. Fortunately it was a Sunday and I had no appointments on Monday; but had I had some I honestly don’t know if I could have done them. I was paralyzed. Does a person get worried by this or just accept it? Worrying is more my style, about everything.

I read my daily Rilke passages from yesterday and today. Both seemed encouragingly apt. The first one, from a letter, begins with this sentence: “All the worlds of the universe plunge into the Invisible as into a yet deeper reality.” All of my worlds had surely “plunged into the Invisible.” This encouraged me a bit, but today’s reading did so even more.  From his Book of Hours:

The Beauty of You
In deep nights I dig for you like treasure.
For all I have seen
that clutters the surface of my world
is poor and paltry substitute
for the beauty of you
that has not happened yet…

Ah, I am not the crippled, sick, lazy, frightened of the world sleeper who cannot awaken to save herself, as I am tempted to accuse myself of being. I am a miner mining the twilight for treasure. After 30 hours of sleep and half a pot of coffee my brain still does not feel ready to plug into this poor and paltry substitute of a world. But when it does, it will bring that vision back to this world and infuse everything it sees with the beauty of You. I’m tired of splitting the worlds; I know they belong together. Today I re-commit.

Gratitude for Hope for Haiti Concert

January 23, 2010

Last night I thought I would turn on the fundraising concert for Haiti and keep it on while I caught up with many things. I didn’t know that I would be drawn in at the first moment and unable to take my eyes off of the screen during the entire event. My heart kept opening a little more and then a little more, like a flower.  I felt proud to be human, to be American and to be a fan of these musicians, actors and newscasters not only as artists but as people. I’ve watched them for a long time and last night more than maybe any other time I felt they made their souls transparent through their voices and their whole bodies. It felt honest and genuine in every beat. Thank you.

I thought of Woodstock, how the notes played in that one event spoke so deeply to and for a generation. Of all the artists and musicians in the world, somehow those ones became the voices to speak for us in that particular way. At the time we didn’t realize it, but soon and as time went on we surely did. At any random moment in the day or night since then I might hear Richie Havens voice singing “Freedom. Freedom,” or Jimi Hendrix’s guitar strains on the Star Spangled Banner, or Arlo Guthrie saying, almost in shock, “The New York throughway is closed, man!”  It feels like those sounds are now inside of me, part of me, for some purpose. I wondered last night if this concert might turn out similarly – a confluence of people and voices singing to and for all of us in a way that could soon become iconic. Time will tell.

And I will add one more thought. When the concert was over I wished that also we could somehow do the same for the victims of man-made disasters in war. When mother natures strikes, it is less complicated – we can gather and pour out our hearts. But when nature through the untamed psyche of man causes us to strike each other, it is harder to unite behind the victims. We have to stand back; and we find it hard to gather. I wish we could stop killing each other altogether, that there would be no more wars ever, obviously; but short of that happening I wish that we could carry out such heart-rending consciousness raisers to gather support for the people who suffer from these disasters every day. May it become somehow so.

Jung’s Red Book

January 23, 2010

I was fortunate to attend today a seminar conducted in Zürich, Switzerland that was attended in a Skype sort of televised arrangement – by persons in 18 countries, I believe he said, all at the same time. It is quite a concept. I would never have imagined that I could feel so present with people as far away as Europe, Taiwan and Australia sitting in a little sound room at UNCA in Asheville. I could see in my mind’s eye some of my former colleagues from the Analytical Psychology Club and the Jung Institute in Los Angeles; I thought I could guess half of who might be in that room. Murray Stein gave a brilliant and personable introduction to C.G. Jung’s recently published Red Book, which I enjoyed immensely. Now I feel a little more ready to approach this enormous 13 pound 12×16 inch book. It will still be overwhelming I am sure; but I am less intimidated by the immensity of its size, beauty and content.

For those who haven’t read of it, The Red Book is a personal journal that Jung wrote in during the period of his life which he called “the encounter with the unconscious”, a time in which he feared many times that he might be losing his sanity. But as a result of this period came most of his vast contribution to the world of psychology. The book includes Jung’s phenomenal mandalas and art, with notes in calligraphy written in Jung’s own hand — an exquisite illuminated manuscript.

Enough about what you can read elsewhere. I want to make a personal note about something of what I experienced today. I finished my Ph.D. and became a doctor in 2003. In 2004, after 30 years of living in Los Angeles, I moved to the middle of “no-damn-where” as one friend likes to describe it. I live in the mountains, in the woods; imagine going into the middle of nowhere and then go a little further. That is where you will find me. I wanted to live in the wilderness; I think unconsciously I thought it would match my internal landscape. In the few years previous to this move, what I had thought was a sturdy, well-ordered and defined psychological structure had become shattered. Suddenly it was as vast, wild and open as the Serengeti plains.

I started a retreat center and began giving small, intimate retreats. During my doctoral studies I had invested in gathering quite a library of books, and I built a library right into my new home. Now I might have time to read, study, become more knowledgeable in the things I craved to know about. However I did not, nor could I have anticipated the terrain of mind I would enter when – after being wife, mother of teenagers, a professor with classrooms full of students, a woman driving on freeways every day of her life – overnight I began living in complete solitary silence. I have friends who have visited the mountain and remarked that they never knew quiet could be so quiet. Living here, I have a life and friends, I conduct retreats and I do private work with people and lead dream groups. But the peopled times of my life often feel like tiny dots on the immense landscape of solitude, and often sense of isolation, in my larger expereince here. I couldn’t have dreamed of what it would be like. But I am here, doing it.

Though I have wondered many times and surely will continue to wonder about the wisdom, practicality and sacrifice of other alternatives having made this choice in life entails, today I felt safer and more affirmed after listening again to Jung’s story. Jung often said that Christians mostly get it wrong in their idea of what it means to imitate Christ. Jesus is the example of a man who did not blindly adhere to the doctrines and laws passed down through tradition or religion; he is an example of a man who went into the wilderness to find and to become completely himself, adhereing to that truth no matter what the cost. Jung would also say, humorously, “I’m glad that I am Jung and not a Jungian.”  He watched his students having to work out what it meant to study and internalize Jung’s discoveries and wisdom, while not giving up their own.

These last 5 1/2 years have been an life experiment for me. That’s really all I can say about it at the moment. But I feel better about the experiment today.

Following the Muse in the Dream

January 21, 2010

I want to assure any reader that my strong intention is to never let this blogging idea become an exercise in navel gazing. I am instantly bored with self-indulgent personal pieces that allow a writer to have the exercise of verbalizing stories or concerns, but that do nothing to inspire, provide insight or at least entertain the reader. My passionate interest, and my doctorate, are in the study of the the psyche – specifically the human psyche but also the objective psyche. Carl Jung is quoted as saying that in our era the entire world is hanging on a thin thread, and that thread is the psyche of man. To the extent that this is true, for me there is no more important area to apply attention and consistent research. I don’t think I ever take a breath in which I’m not applying myself to this in some way. Often, of course, my research by necessity involves the study of my own dreams and psyche and how they weave together with our consensual reality as well as other levels of existence and being. But in my teaching and writing I try hard to walk the line between self-indulgent interest in how it all looks from the inside here in my little universe, and what might be of use in our mutual exploration into the nature of psyche and dreams in the shared universe. 

This being said, I want to mention a clue that came to me in a recent dream. I have no idea what the meaning of it might be, but strange synchronicities keep inviting me to follow the white rabbit down the rabbit hole to see where it leads. In the dream I am still in the ministry which I resigned from in 1994, and my desk has one little window that faces out onto a lovely tree-lined street. I have never had any inclination to decorate this window, but suddenly I decide to and I begin, and with enthusiasm gather beautiful transparencies to place on the window – one of a tree, one with some beautiful red in it, and others. When I woke up I had the thought that the window might be my psyche’s way of referring to this blog; suddenly I’m decorating my little connection to the world outside.

Next in the dream we are selling all of the real estate on the outside areas of the ministry grounds and keeping one little piece of property at the heart of it, as well as the area that includes my desk area with the outside window. Prospective buyers arrive and we decide to describe the reason for selling the outside pieces and keeping the inside as – something to do with “Dover” – which made humorous sense to everyone in the dream but me, but I determined to just tell it like they said to tell it and hope whoever was listening would get it. Maybe that is exactly what I am doing right now. That was the dream, but the word Dover seemed to be kind of burned into my mind.

I kept turning the word over and over in my head the next day. I brought in the mail and opened a first class envelope addressed to me that immediately gave me a strange feeling. I, Tayria, have been chosen and am invited into a special secret society that many important people all over the world are a part of. They have been watching me and decided that because of distinguishing qualifications they want me to become part of their secret society. They use the name “Tayria” in every other sentence or so to make sure that I know that I am personally singled out for this honor. The letter is obviously some kind of  hoax or scam, and I look to see where the people are from who sent it to me. There is only a Post Office box –  in Dover, Delaware.  I must reply by Friday or the privilege of invitation will have passed me by. So weird.

I am currently reading a history/biography that has just been published called The Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn. I can’t tell you why, but all my life I have had an interest in Tudor history and have read dozens of novels and histories about that time in English history. Last night I got to the part just before Anne is to be arrested on trumped up charges of treason. She doesn’t know of the plot yet, but is instead excited because she and Henry have plans to go to Dover. She is particularly hopeful because, the book goes on to say, it was at Dover that they had their first very romantic time together and she is hoping this visit will rekindle some of their early passion for each other. The chapter ends leaving the reader with the knowledge that they will never make it to Dover because the treachery is now closing in on her.

What? I really don’t get this. But I do believe in synchronicity and feel that something is afoot and I have to keep paying attention. I’m leaving this topic here now, hoping it will end up being similar to the place in a novel where the author leaves a clue hanging; and a hundred pages later they pick it up again. I will definitely write about it if the universe gives me more to work with here. And this is an invitation to the universe to let us in on the secret!