Friday, June 10, 2016

we are life, laughing...

If only our eyes saw souls instead of bodies how different our ideals of beauty would be.
                                                                                                                    ~  Author unknown

I wake from a dream it's 4:20 am. I know I've just been looking with my other eyes, the one's that see better than my physical ones.

About 10 ft away is my lovely ex.  He is to the left, looking straight ahead.  I don't think he knows I am here; maybe, more like I have come in from another dimension. I am struck by the stark realness of his unsmiling presence. Not unhappy, honest.

In the dream, his head and upper body are formed but the lower part fades off into a series of lines.
Beyond him, to the right of his head, is a beautifully drawn violin/fiddle as if created by a master artist -- flowing in a freedom of swirls and lines in space. (He is a 'Down East' fiddler.) Just beyond, him creating a circular pattern is also drawn what I interpret to be the other 'special stuff' of his life.
I keep catching glimpses but the view feels ephemeral like the smoke curls which form beautiful, graceful, mysterious 'in and out' patterns in space after one blows out a candle.

I wake in a poignancy, a sweet sadness -- experiencing loss that mingles with an intense joy. Yet, this is not a loss of his presence as I have that.  He is in his spirit/human self: dines here, plays fiddle here, opens presents here. Nor is it a loss from divorcing the institution of marriage or that he has Alzheimer's. This dream is generic. I am being shown how beautifully drawn we are -- living the most ordinary 'things' of our lives, be it, stubbing a toe, not remembering or catching the wind rocking a leaf.

I also wake thinking how shockingly non-physical we are and can be. I better understand (possibly) the Dalai Lama's divine humor (he chuckles) in harsh circumstance. A sage told me a year or two ago, "When I see a person who exist in love, I am able to see through them." Was that not what I was seeing in the dream? No clunking there in denser energies, just pure essential being.

When I was fourteen my parents took me to Florida for the winter. Not going to school, I could roam Clearwater, Tampa and Tarpon Springs. In those days, the latter was known for its deep sea-divers who harvested sponges. The divers clunked the wharf in heavy gear and iron boots.

This physical suit called a body that I have to wear to be a human, shows me, in comparison, how much I clunk around like those divers, in bone, skin and mental 'stories'. Yet I want to be more see through, I want to float. What swirls and wispy curls of dream like spirit-fragrance and divine humor emit from my struggles, my 'problems'?  How beautifully drawn are my energies, vibrations, frequencies? Where am I hopefully half drawn?

After all, I am - we are the music, wind, and the sound of the sun, We are life, laughing -- or can be.

photo source:
quote source: