Posts Tagged ‘dreams’

Archangel Gabriel and the Girdle

June 26, 2014

Recently I had a dream experience that continues to haunt and fascinate me. I’ve been recording my dreams for nearly 40 years and never have had one with an angel in it, nor have I experienced the apparition of an angel though I am regularly aware of them and their guidance. This dream is utterly unique. Archangel Gabriel came to call.

In the dream I am in bed in my huge, spacious house (not a house I have lived in in waking life). My daughter Arlene comes in, somewhat annoyed that Archangel Gabriel has come to her and asked her to tell me that I am to go pick up my girdle as the angel wants to visit me. The girdle will tell her how to find me. Arlene had been busy doing other things in her room and had to get up to come deliver the message. She expresses an attitude like “Your people are bothering me, Mom.” They know they can get through to her. She’s a bit exasperated. It’s cute.

I go into the next room to look in a drawer for my girdle. Routing through it, I pick up a plug adapter and the room suddenly fills with the angel’s presence. A crystalline light is everywhere, with rainbows. My cells are filled with this power and energy, another dimension has come upon us. She stays for a short bit, and then she’s gone. No words, just presence. Shortly afterward an unnatural darkness fills the room and a threatening presence comes. I know it is a response to the light of the angel.

I don’t know why Gabriel came to me. It has been haunting me. I wait and hope to know more.

I did what we do these days – I googled her. Apparently one of her consistent missions is to inspire writers. Good God I do need a miracle there, I have been quite challenged in the last months with this. It is said she appeared to Muhammad and delivered the Koran to him with the news that he was to write it down. He was annoyed with her. One of the articles mentioned that she has had an annoying effect on some of those she visited, which tickled me since Arlene was annoyed by her in the dream. When I worked the dream in my dream group we focused on the girdle. What? A girdle? I haven’t worn one in decades though I did buy one before my daughter’s wedding thinking that the dress I had gotten would look nicer on me with that. It would have if I had remembered to wear it. I didn’t.

“Gird your loins,” one of the dreamers suggested. This is the idea that has stayed with me. Googling that phrase, I found that it means to prepare oneself for battle, for action, for difficulty, for hard work. In an earlier era when loose garments were commonly worn it was necessary to gather them up and tuck them in tight before battle or difficult labors.

Maybe my energy systems are loose and need tightening? What are these flowing garments that need girding? The loins are our generative organs. I feel pregnant with a book, am I guided to gird that area for safe delivery? What will that look like? How to respond… The dream said only to hold the girdle, not necessarily to do anything with it. Hold it until the angel finds me. I hadn’t even found it yet when she did come. I did find the one I never wore since the dream though. It is under my pillow now hoping she’ll know where I am. I wait.

I am worried about the world as I write. I’m worried about the horrors in Iraq, about the immigrant children coming into the U.S., about the refugee crisis in the Middle East, about GMO’s and the environment, and about many things troubling my heart that are much closer to home.

Are these worries the flowing energies to gird up? Gather them up, hold them close, and act.

Don’t know. Maybe it’s about none of these.

When angels come to us in dreams, what do we do? Ponderings are welcome.

Dreams, Oracles and Mandalas

May 27, 2014

Dearest blog readers,

A favorite client gently pointed out to me recently that I haven’t posted a blog since February. I winced. I think the last one I wrote was an announcement and description of the book that I am committed to writing this year. The challenges involved in finding time for that project have caused me to shy away from spending time with my blog, which for me involves a different style, intention and satisfaction as a writer. I intend to regain the rhythm of writing about more daily and current insights describing my depth psychological insights into life and dreams, as I value the regular articulation and interaction with readers.

Since many of my blog readers aren’t on my mailing list I’m going to insert here the newsletter I sent out today. It is a sort of post for this day, but more blogs will come soon.

Hello dear friends and colleagues,
Warm greetings to you. It has been awhile since I have written a newsletter.  After the sale of my Mountain Retreat Center a year and a half ago, the work of Bridging Worldshas been mostly private sessions with individuals. In my sweet office in downtown Asheville I offer sessions by telephone and in person for dream analysis as well asoracular consultations. Please take a moment to read the following short descriptions of the work. I composed them hoping to elucidate their profound value and to pique interest. Call me if you want to discuss or to make an appointment, and please pass along this information to others who may like to know.
I am also offering a six week course, along with Marie O. Davis, on Dreams and Mandala Making from June 15-July 20th in Asheville. See the description below for more information. Or use this link:
I will be teaching a workshop on Reviving the Indigenous Mind at a Journey Conferences event in Stoneville, NC, October 30th to November 2nd. The main presenter at this conference will be Dr. Michael Conforti, Jungian Analyst and Director of the Assisi Institute. Dr. Conforti is a pioneer in the field of psyche-matter studies, and of investigating the relationship between the new sciences and Jungian psychology. Use this link for information about the conference:
There was an op-ed piece in the New York Times recently about sleep and dreaming that I just loved. I wanted share the link with you.
I send love and blessings to each of you and would love to hear from you to know how you are.
Why do Dreamwork, Consult the Oracle, or make alchemical mandalas? Read on.
Our dreams are nightly visions whose symbols offer the conscious mind necessary information coming to us from the vast terrain of the not-yet-conscious, or unconscious, realm whose wisdom is both personal and transpersonal. For millennia, in every culture and religion on every continent, in every scripture and mythology, messages in dreams are considered to have essential guidance for waking life. How modernity managed to step away from this resource and become dismissive of it is a study in itself. Recovering the forgotten language and potency of dreams has been a passion of mine during my entire adult life. My waking life has been actively informed and guided by dreams for 40 years.
I help persons to understand the valuable information in their dreams both in telephone sessions and face-to-face in my downtown Asheville, North Carolina, office. Some of the people I work with prefer a regular schedule for dreamwork to keep a steady connection with their dreaming psyche. Others call when a life event or a particular dream activates the desire to take a deeper look.
Oracular Consultations:
Oracles are messages that come to us from the matrix of love and intelligence that sees and knows us more intimately than we know ourselves. More than two decades ago a dream lead me into the study of oracles, and from that I experienced a sense of being consistently seen and cared for by an invisible “other” beyond anything I had ever imagined. It has assisted me since then in daily practical as well as mystical ways. The meanings have shown themselves to be reliable, non-judging, deeply compassionate, clear-seeing visions regarding what will be most helpful for me to know in the present moment.
I worked with oracles by myself for about 10 years—verifying, validating and calibrating their uses—before offering to use them to assist others. Over the last more than a decade of reading for others, for the most part using the symbols in the tarot, I am consistently grateful and amazed at the right-on-point clarity of what comes through. People leave the experience sometimes saying thing like they feel a foot taller, or like they are breathing rarefied air. The sense of realizing that we are utterly known and cared for is as useful as the specific information supplied.
Dreams and Mandala Making:
This endeavor has been created in collaboration with Marie O. Davis, a Licensed Professional Counselor in Asheville, NC, who has a graduate degree in Expressive Arts Therapy. Marie uses a method of alchemical mandala-making that is a collage process. Found images expressive of soul processes are placed in representative sections of the circle. Powerful transformative and healing energy is activated as the mandala is created. Using this technique in combination with the images presented in dreamwork with Tayria promises invaluable curative experience and revelation.
The next six-week series is offered on Sundays, June 15-July 20th in Asheville. For detailed information use this link:, or call me to register.

Olympic Dreaming

February 8, 2014

I felt as though I had fallen into a dream the minute I switched on the TV last night planning to watch the news but finding that I had tuned in, almost miraculously, at the very second the coverage was beginning for the Opening Ceremonies at the Olympics in Sochi. Not having realized exactly when the ceremonies were being broadcast nor having planned to watch them, suddenly there I was. In the dream. I fell in, watched it all through.

Born in 1951, I grew up with the notion of Russia as a scary, worrisome, possibly evil “other” – almost like a myth of the wicked, evil one who might eat a child, in this case one who might blow us all up. Over the years of maturing and the dynamics on the world stage shifting, Russia became in my mind that mysterious other, haunting the imagination with her literature, art, architecture and seemingly unknowable enigma; her strong soul bravely enduring unthinkable hardships.

I was extremely moved when in the very opening moments of the ceremonies they showed a young girl’s face, saying her name which I couldn’t catch, but the name means “Love.” The commentator said she represents the feminine soul of Russia. What a way to start! Immediately she lifts off the ground and begins to fly, fly high, a brave little girl. They explain that “She will tell the story of Russia through a series of dreams, as Russians see themselves as dreamers.” The history of Russia as told through the dreams of a child! How beautiful. I thought the story was magnificently told in brilliant artful display. This is certainly a unique opportunity for Russia to bare her soul on the world stage. The music, the ballet, I was entranced.

I don’t want to talk about Putin in terms of politics. I will say that when I heard that last week in a zoo he was seen “cradling a leopard, which you rarely see politicians do,” I thought “Yep, never heard of a politician doing that one before.” I would love to cradle a leopard! Who is this man? What must be the dreams of Putin? Russia covers 9 time zones, it is that vast. They explained that in an essential sense the source of many of Russia’s most basic problems is that she is so isolated and alienated from the rest of the world; they were isolated from the Renaissance, isolated from the Enlightenment. What longing Russia’s soul must be expressing now to bridge that gap. Isolation and alienation are cruelly painful states.

I could go on about what I am feeling regarding the dream of Russia, but it is the dreams of the athletes that are most glorious to watch, like catching a fire just to look at their spirits. I have a daughter who is training for the Olympics in 2016, hoping to make the team in Women’s Weightlifting. I know in a personal way how hard these athletes work, how much of their life is given over to their sport, how much heart it takes to keep on with their efforts and training, to take defeat, to never lose vision, to keep their dreams alive and their spirits strong.

I appreciated what Thomas Bach, the President of the International Olympic Committee, said: “The Olympic Games are a sports festival embracing human diversity in great unity. Therefore I say to the political leaders of the world, thank you for supporting your athletes. They are the best ambassadors of your country. Please respect their Olympic message of good will, of tolerance, of excellence and of peace. Have the courage to address your disagreements in a peaceful direct political dialogue and not on the back of these athletes.” I’m pretty sure that was, at least in part, a jab at Jimmy Carter for his decision to withhold our athletes from Russia’s previous Olympics, but I do feel the point is well taken and well spoken. My daughter and her teammates are the most glorious ambassadors this country could hope for, no one works as hard as these athletes do.

These days ahead are mythic time. Dream time. Please to the gods, may great blessings of peace protect and lift these events. May they unify our hearts as a global community and bring courage, pride and love to each athlete, each nation, and all of us as one on this beautiful Earth as she spins through the galaxies leaving such splendid sparks and trails of glory.

The Path to the Center, a Story

December 9, 2013

As a holiday gift I decided to impart a deep story that I hope will inspire your musing during this season of going into winter’s darkness to create a cave for reflection and the birth of something fresh and new, divine and human. This is a look through a portal, a view into the deep mystery that we live in this incarnated life.

It happened at about this time of year in 1993. I was completely awake but it was like I was in a dream. Some friends and I were having dinner in a restaurant, a lively conversation taking place. Suddenly, unbidden, I slipped between worlds. A story much longer, more intricate and complicated than War and Peace, one that took aeons it seemed, unfolded clearly. I saw every detail, every character, plot twists, deaths, births, meanings, outcomes. It was as if I was reading the record of ages of time, all in an instant, not one tiny element left out. At the conclusion of the vision I heard inwardly the words, “the only path is the path to the center,” and I saw how the movement of the entire story demonstrated this point.

When I slipped back into the conversation at hand I don’t think I had missed a word. I was still on track with what was being said, not even distracted from it, yet acutely aware of what had just taken place. Though I could bring back no details of the saga, the clearly demonstrated message was solidly with me. Strangely, I felt more centered and grounded than almost any other time I can think of in my life. I was not stunned or disoriented. There was a calm, like now I know, and I’ve always known, and always will know, knowing happens. There was a profound sense of peace and solace.

After that I realized more than ever before that my long quest for discovery of spiritual truths, which had taken me all over the globe and back, and my very busy life of running from point a to b, then to c and d, and back and around – none of this was “the path.” The path is within. It is always here. Never over there. It is where I am. I am the center, God is the center, the center is everywhere, in every one, in every thing. The words of Jesus recorded in the gospel of Luke came to mind: “The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for behold, the kingdom of God is within you.” Certainly the immense story I had witnessed in my dream-like vision, with its profound meaning, was within me – always there in the space between the frames of perception in outer conscious life.

And so I feel moved to offer this story to you hoping that in your moments of stillness during the joyous and often stressfully busy days of this time of year you will find connection to the profound mystery of our existence, that you will feel peace and solace, and gather strength in this. I wish for you every blessing of grace and abundance, and that all of your deepest dreams and desires will manifest sacredly and beautifully.

I love being in touch. Please write to me when you feel moved to.
With love,

Reflecting the Interior of the Mountain Out to the World

October 14, 2012

When I was living in California, after having visited North Carolina to find the mountain property that I have been living in for the last 8 years, but not yet having decided to buy it – several dreams occurred that convinced me to jump in, buy and move. Some of them had Eagle in it. Eagle is the animal of the East in Lakota cosmology, and I am an East person in the Lakota personality-type structure that is based on that cosmology. East is the direction of the visionary. I knew the Eagle dreams were coming to guide my vision.

In one of these dreams, a friend from the mountain who helped me find the property gave me a silver ring that was a sculpted head of an eagle. It was placed on the middle finger of my left hand, feeling very numinous and powerful. When I woke up I felt the ring there, but it wasn’t there! It was almost disorienting, and somewhat dismaying. My beautiful daughter, Arlene, went out and found such a ring that fit that finger perfectly. She gave it to me on the morning when I defended my dissertation and became a doctor. I wore it sacredly from that day on.

I was also having very numinous mountain dreams. In one of them, I was riding in a truck with some friends. We arrived at a mountainous place. They all went one direction after we parked and I wandered off in another. I came to the foot of a mountain that I saw was shaped like the head of an eagle. Eagle and Mountain melded in this dream. As I looked up, under the beak of the mountain, where the heart of the eagle might be, I saw a cave. It was too high up to see straight inside, but from where I stood I could see rich, gorgeous tapestries on the wall, sconces of fire to light the cave, and mirrors carefully situated to reflect the interior of the mountain out into the world. I was flooded with insight and a sense of wonder. I saw that this is a calling in life, choosing to live in such a way as to reflect the wisdom held in the interior of the mountain out into the world. I saw it as a vocational calling, like a monk’s life, and knew that it required that kind of commitment and sacrifice. It felt beautiful and very compelling.

Such dreams as these were too hard to ignore. I had to come. I have lived somewhat like a monk or a nun during this time, taking the time here very seriously, sacredly, thoughtfully. At some point, some years in, a friend who could see that I was struggling in certain ways convinced me to remove the Eagle ring from my finger. I called it a wedding ring, the ring of my commitment to the mountain. She said, “at least place it on the other hand.” I did so. I knew I was having to shift but it was hard for me as I am a stubbornly loyal person. I placed a different ring, a silver ring with 4 pearls, on that left hand middle finger as a ring of continued commitment to the vision, while offering the possibility of switching the vision from how I held it in my heart and mind. I have worn this one continuously since.

And now I am moving from the mountain. I have an office on the 5th floor of a charming old building smack in the middle of downtown Asheville, with big tall windows facing out over the town and well into the mountains. Maybe this, then, is my cave, the place from which I will be reflecting the interior of the mountain out into the world. I know the actual cave is my heart, but this location may be an external dwelling place and manifestation of it.

And so the vision moves, like eagle, like wind, like water, like love. And I reflect. And will continue the commitment. I commit to stay true. True to the heart of the mountain that has held me in her love and who has given much to each one who has come on retreat, vision quest and sweat lodge over the years I have been here. Mountain who gave me true-hearted friends to love for a lifetime. Mountain who found the husband for Josi my first-born daughter, Eli, the man she calls “the love of my life”, a man who we all adore. Mountain who is helping me now to release her comforting embrace as I pack up my belongings and prepare to be out by October 31st, a sacred day in some calendars. All Souls Eve.

Come visit me in my new cave. I invite you.

Owl Nature

August 26, 2012

Coming back to the mountain from town for the first time to stay more than a short overnight, I arrived on Friday with two days ahead, planning to jump into figuring out how to further the project of getting ready to move. Am hoping the right buyer for this mountain sanctuary is just around the corner. So what happened on Friday night to switch up my well-intentioned plan? I developed a fever, a massive cold took over, throat burning, eyes swollen, nose running, cough.

So Saturday rather than being devoted to going through drawers and closets became a day of rest. Arrest. Unable to move, I sat for hours and hours on my porch. Spirit of owl entered into me, I began to realize. I was an owl, sitting quietly on my perch, hearing every move of wind, insect, bird, forest dweller. My mind was taken with just listening,  head moving back and forth similar to an owl’s, staring here then there. Almost too sick to even fret, I settled into owlness. Surrender.

Not too long ago a dream arrived that alarmed me tremendously. In it I was attacked by an enormous owl who had come looking specifically for me. The owl landed on me and ripped the skin on my arms open. I knew in the dream that this was happening in fulfillment of a prophecy. Working that dream in my dream group was one of the most emotional events I have experienced, and it left me with more questions than answers. The dream continues to work me, and I suppose it will keep at it.

Instead of sorting through the many things in my house, owl nature apparently wanted me to sit quietly. Had I not gotten ill I wouldn’t have done it, owl knows that apparently. Today, Sunday, I am a little better, but arrested by feeling tackled again, and ripped into. A part of me thinks I should use my returning energy and what little time I have here to get busy with the many, countless things. Another part says no, don’t you get it Tayria? Listen. Be still. See what can only be seen in stillness, like the owl.

I watched the Pink Goddess arrive last night as she painted the clouds with her color at sunset over the mountains. (I wrote in a recent blog about having been introduced to this goddess by Hannah, my 5-year-old neighbor.) The slowly changing scene can only be truly appreciated in silent, still witnessing. I waited until she “turned out her lights” as Hannah said she does each night, and watched the darkness arrive, then the stars come out.

Not being busy with closets and drawers nor distracted by TV and the news, owl nature was in full play. I want to know what owl wants from me, why these attacks. Will wait and listen.

Math and Wildness and Beauty

June 11, 2012

In the midst of the wildness that is my life during a big move, a remarkable little mathematical equation emerged out of the chaos that I want to write about, like a still point in my turning world (reference to T.S. Eliot’s wonderful poem). There is too much to say in the turning at this point; I already feel the surges of writing that want flow from it when everything stops spinning. But for now, this amazing dream scenario.

One of the beauties of writing down and tracking dreams is to discover the synchronous timing of their occurrence, often demonstrating how precisely mathematical the whole mysterious fabric of the universe is, truly. I have a few astonishing stories to tell in this regard, this one being a good reminder, “re-mind-ing.” These events do reshape the mind.

The first event was on June 9, 1977.  On that day something in my world cracked open, I won’t go into lengthy details in this writing, and a big part of my future flowed through that crack. That evening I happened to go to a lecture that was surprisingly synchronistic in that it explained and spot on described what was happening to me. I remembered the date because when I wrote it all down the 6 and the 9 looked so beautiful together, round and flowing and mirroring each other upside down.

In future years, every so often a big dream or soulful occurrence took place, and I would notice the date – June 9th, 6 9. It always gave me pause, notifying me that the universe just is not random, it is exquisitely, mathematically designed.

In the early 90’s I developed a love for the writings of St. Therese of Lisieux, a young French nun whose depth of spirituality and ways of finding God in every tiny, simple thing inspired me very much. Her big love and bone honesty moved me. For years I read daily passages from her writings collected in a book called Just For Today; they nourished me each and every day. In one of her books I read that she had a mystical vision of Jesus on June 9th, and that she always privately considered that date as a personal holy day. June 9th! My private holy day too! What were the odds of this?

It has been years since I have given this much thought, time moves on. Two nights ago, my first night of sleeping in an actual bed in my new apartment in Asheville rather than a mat on the floor, I awakened in the middle of the night to write down a dream. In it, I was giving to a friend (who I have not seen in years) a gift that I had also given to my mother, in the dream. I had created it and had only given it to two people. It was a little book bound in beautiful red leather with gold lettering, and gold leaf pages. In the book was printed just one passage by St. Therese of Lisieux; a few words that to me said everything. I chose the passage and had this book bound, once creating it as a gift to give to my mother, as I said, and now again had created one as a gift for this friend. When I awakened I SO wished I could remember which passage was printed in that book!

In the morning I picked up my dream journal to write this dream down thinking how random it seemed to have had this dream in the midst of moving chaos. I cast about to figure out what the date was, having lost track of days of the weekd and dates completely. I looked it up then wrote June 9; it all came flooding back with great emotion.

The universe just is not random. The mystery of it thrills me.

Today, June 11, my Zen Calendar quotation is from Albert Einstein. “The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science.” I love that he calls the mysterious an “emotion.”

Dreams are, indeed, true art and true science. And mysterious. Yet precise. And artful.

By the way, I gave birth to my 2nd beautiful daughter 26 years ago today. Happy birthday gorgeous Arlene.

Dreamtime’s Deep Messaging System

May 21, 2012

Sitting in the quiet of my mountain home this morning with birds, sky, forest and power of mountain keeping me company, I am readying myself for a full-time move into town. Even for the most basic decisions that have to be made, like how to consolidate the supplies accumulated in two bathrooms with big medicine cabinets and banks of drawers to hold things into one tiny bathroom with an itty-bitty medicine cabinet and nothing else to put a thing on or in, I keep having to stop and go deep into myself to understand what this requires of me, how to imagine and think about it. It feels like I am walking a tight rope and that even one not-coming-from-the-right-place decision could throw off my balance and send me plunging. I know how to climb back up from plunges, but I’d rather not have to spend energy that way, not now.

A mantra that is sounding within me over and over again, maybe several times an hour without my conscious thought having to pull it in, is “Take no thought for the morrow…  (for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.)”  Those first six words are the ones that keep repeating, the meaning of the rest comes with them. These are words attributed to Jesus from the Sermon on the Mount. I heard them in a dream some weeks ago, like an angel speaking to me. I believe I wrote a blog about it at the time.

When wisdom is spoken in a dream like this, it comes from a very different level of integration than words we hear with our cognitive apparatus, what we gather with ego’s thoughtfulness. The conscious mind can barely conceive of the depths of the wisdom referenced. It is not advice delivered from outside but knowing revealed from inside, from vast interior spaces of universe and Self. The meaning unfolds. At first I thought the saying was referring to money worries. Whew, I thought. Then I began to see that it was comforting me about the many unknowns of my move, helping me to take things one day at a time. Then it seemed to be talking about energy, will I have energy for all of this?

A dream thought like this answers a million questions at once, every second of every day. When something comes in a dream, cherish it and rely on it.

More recently I awakened hearing myself say, “I refuse to be afraid.” One can say that to one’s self with daytime consciousness and it will have power and effectiveness. But when you find yourself saying it in a dream, you know it is coming from another level of self-awareness and commitment. Since the dream, I hear myself meaning and intending that message when all of the temptations to fear arise, from mental and physical disturbances to the uncountable and unnameable questions of life and career that are with me now. The waking mind is only a shadow of the power of what comes in dreams. Again, cherish and trust that power.

Dreams speak in images and symbols that will not be locked down or confined in meaning, that reinterpret and reapply themselves endlessly. Conscious, waking life seems to thrive on certainties, the Dreamtime on endless possibility. I am trying to recover from the need for certainty, as life keeps taking that away. The dreaming is hugely potent medicine for the journey. I offer my sincerest respect and gratitude.

The Issue of the Bison

March 23, 2012

Last night I saw the piece on NBC Nightly News that tells the story of pure bred bison that have just been released in Montana. The purity of this species has been compromised by cross breeding with cattle, threatening the original species with extinction. I was so moved to see that the bison were set onto the land at night as Sioux played drums to welcome them and celebrate their reintroduction. Bison are huge pieces of their cultural history, having been a source of clothing, food, medicine and certainly of a kind of consciousness these native people long to have returned to them for their survival as a culture and as a people; they are the “people of the buffalo.” How we invaded and eradicated their way of life is a tragic loss not only to them, but to everyone, everywhere I believe.

I was talking to some friends the other night who were just in a country where dogs are not domesticated, but are wild. They were describing the vast difference between those animals and the species we know of as dogs, cuddly creatures dependent upon us for their survival. What popped out of my mouth surprised me a little. I said, “That’s what happened to women when the trend toward domestication of women occurred. We lost our wildness and  became dependent.”

I can’t say how I would think or feel if I were the cattle rancher in Montana whose livelihood depends upon keeping borders and “managing” the bison rather than letting them roam wild and become more populous. I only know what I feel in my bones and in my gut – that we, as a species and as a planet, need that reintroduction of wildness. “Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam” – aren’t those lyrics in one of our most beloved national songs?

Domestication – of plants, animals, people and everything – “managing” everything – has gone too far. We’re weakening ourselves, making ourselves dependent. The house of domestication is burning down. Let it burn.

Just two nights ago I had a dream that the house I was sleeping in was burning down. I could feel the consuming flames and the heat all around me. The one and only thing I could think to grab before I left the room hoping to save my life was my dream journal. I stood there a second trying to think of what else to grab and not one other thing came to mind.

This dream is personal, but I think it is also collective. The house we are sleeping in is burning down. Let’s grab our dreamtime consciousness and run.

Living by the Dream

March 10, 2012

My favorite time of any day is the hour or so after waking when I stumble, with coffee in hand, to my spot on the couch, often lighting candles and burning a little sage or Paulo Santo, and sit down to write out my dreams and morning thoughts. This is the in-between hour, the place where dreamtime and waking time are woven together. The rest of the day moves from there. That is the source water, the rest of my energy flows in tributaries that go in a thousand directions from that place.

Morning thoughts are as important as the dream in their own way. Even though very often they do not resemble the dream overtly – the dream is talking about one thing, the morning thoughts often seem to be other issues or plans illuminating – yet I know that these impressions flow from the dreaming. The dream lines things up so that the thought energy can move through.

My life is an experiment, an experiment with the dreaming. I have lived like this since the age of 24 when my spiritual teacher taught me about the importance of dreams. I have given immense focus, love, trust and commitment to this life project, through every twist and wild ride of the last decades. Sometimes I wonder if I should leave this emphasis, if I’m not being practical, if this method for living is leading to nowhere and nothing in particular, if other more stabilizing options in life are passing me by as I do this. But, this is what I do. This is who I am. That is all I know for now.

On another note, part of my waking thought this morning is to make more conscious a visual piece of my environment that has been affecting and guiding me more than I have realized until today. My oldest daughter, Josi, captured my heart the second I laid eyes on her; until then I hadn’t known there could be such a love as that in this world. She has been a guiding angel ever since. She is my confidante and foremost adviser in every important matter of life. A sidewalk artist in Paris rendered a sweet portrait of her on the occasion of her 16th birthday. It hangs in one of the bedrooms in my house and just happens to peak out on the rest of the house, especially visible from the very spot on my couch where I sit to do my dream recording, telephone sessions, news and tv watching, eating of many meals. The power and guiding force of that visage to impact my thoughts, heart, intentions and impressions never really struck me until today. Now I see it as clearly as if a mountain appeared out of the mist – now I know the mountain is there and has been all along. The spirit of a thing guides through images of it, we know that from the many iconic images humans place in their environments to help direct their focus. This daughter is an angel. She mentioned to me recently, “You’re the only person in my life who calls me angel.” I didn’t hardly realize I call her that until she said it. It is just so. Here’s the picture I am speaking of. May your angels become more evident to you as well.