X-Files…part 1 of 4

Today my world is filled with thoughts of ageing, declining health and dying. Cheery, I know! But, it's odd how the universe arranges things through synchronicity.

BEING MORTAL - Medicine and What Matters in the End, the book by the wonderful medical writer, surgeon and lecturer Atul Gawande (think of a cross between Oliver Sacks and Malcolm Gladwell) stares up at me from my desk. Oddly, the sticker the library slapped on its cover says Health & Fitness. Even they don't know how to categorize a discussion on, what will come to most of us, facing the end of our life.

One of the first posts I read on FB today is from a dreamer friend who shared this THE BIG SLEEP on FB - check it out I'll wait…

And just now, somewhat in denial, I begin to write an e-mail to a 100 year old beloved former client turned friend. My fingers get heavy on the keys as I clear the lump in forming in my throat. She's probably died. The New Year's e-mail that I sent to her had bounced back; address no longer available. Despite her advanced years L was pretty skilled at the computer so…I check the obits and there it is; a loving and brief announcement, date of death Nov 14th.

E-mail to L; delete.

Looking for things to calm the restlessness building up within, I delete old, no longer needed files.
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
… hoping that this will clear things out of my mind.

Short stories I wrote about my struggles with my parents' ageing and declining health pop up on the screen. I laugh at one titled X-FILES in honour of X-Files' Mulder and Skully's penchant for using flashlights during every investigation. "Turn on the damn lights!" I'd shout at the screen. But, to no avail. My mother like Mulder and Skully wasn't a fan of overhead lighting. We Thackers are all night people. Throughout my life, navigating my way to bed late at light was like being in a training school for the blind.

*    *    *

Perfect. Rod had adjusted the light just right. A crisp beam is cast on my side of the bed leaving him cocooned in darkness so that only soft early stage of sleep snores betray his presence.

Ah ... I softly exhale, gently settling down on the futon having tip toed across the room and slipped out of my jeans, miraculously without disturbing him; he’s such a light sleeper. Mindfully I catch a whiff of peppermint tea wafting into my nostrils as I blow on its steamy surface before a sip passes through barely parted lips. And just as thoughtfully I place it on a ceramic tile on the floor, beside the bed. A barely audible sigh of contentment escapes as I open my paperback Awakening the Buddha Within by Lama Surya Das. I pause to allow a wave of gratitude wash over me for a day full of simple pleasures - car washed, treatments done, dinner shared with Mom and Dad, a beautiful sunny day …

“Shit, shit, shit. Goddamn it all to hell!” I slap my book shut and slam it down onto my thigh.

“What the ...?” Rod torques his upper body in my direction groggily shielding his eyes.

“Ah, damn it! I forgot to fill the fucking docette.”

“Language? Geeze it’s as if you’ve got Tourette’s or something.”

“Sorry. When I get pissed off ...  can’t help myself ... Dad does it too ... low tolerance for frustration ... some kind of conditioned response further habituated by ...”

“Do I really have to hear this now?” he interrupts.

Distractedly I grab my jeans off the floor. “Left it on the friggin’ counter. Must have gotten side tracked. Shit I’ll have to go over and fill it.” 

“Now?” he picks up the digital clock recording the time with blood red numbers and thrusts it into the light. “Nance, it’s 11 o’clock at night for Pete’s sake.”

I step into one pant leg and hop about trying to locate the other, knocking the scalding tea over “shee-ite” issues crisply through my clenched teeth as I lose my balance and my shoulder slams into the wall. “Ah! Goddamn it!”

Rod tisks and then forcefully sighs for my benefit as he disengages himself rolling back over into the darkness.

Mopping the tea up with a t-shirt grabbed from a chair,“If I don’t do it now, knowing my luck, Mom’ll call at some ungodly hour. And now I can’t sleep anyway because I’ll lay awake waiting for it like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Shoes. God damn it where are my shoes?”

“Nance, you’re spinning.”

“I can hear her now.”

“Ahem, ahem.” Rod clears his throat for my benefit.

“Well, you know how she is with the answering machine. Mom can’t even work a toaster oven. Remember last Christmas when we got them that little portable tape deck and she said to Dad, sitting there with the unwrapped package in his lap, ‘I hope it isn’t a micro-wave’?”

“I’ve got to get some sleep. Unlike some people, I have to get up early in the morning.”

“Where are my shoes?” As I crawl on hands and knees upturning everything in my path in search of the elusive quarry an all too familiar telephone call plays over in my head.  “Nance ... are you there? ... I ... ah ... can’t find your father’s medications for the day ... could you? ... um ... come over? ... ah ... well, O.K. ... bye ...” Her voice; shaky, apologetic, helpless.

Augh! God my gut’s turning now just thinking about it. Can’t be woken up like that yet again. It would take me days to stop swearing from the aggravation and guilt.

“Shoes are downstairs by the door." He muffles through the duvet. "In all our fourteen years together we’ve never brought them into the bedroom. Get - a - grip.”

“Oh, damn!” I stand with hands on hips in puzzlement. "Tsk, sigh." I proceed to stomp out of the room, “I’ll just have to grab whatever I can on my way out, I guess.”  

“Please, don’t slam the door.”

It slams shut seemingly of its own accord.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“Whatever,” I barely hear him sigh and mumble. There’s a faint click and the sliver of light escaping from under the door is extinguished behind me. Ahh, I relax, blessed darkness.

I proceed down the stairs barefoot with heavy heels.            

“Shit!” I grab at the railing to keep from breaking my neck as our cat scurries down the stairs. “Max get out of the way!”

            *           *          *

Gotta work the ya ya’s out. “Let’s see.” I say aloud as I rifle through the cassettes strewn beside me on the passenger seat.

Eternal Om - too mellow, Colin James - nah, Enya, Rolling Stones ... the Stones ...

Yup, Stones it is! I pop in the tape and crank up the volume.

“You can’t always get what you wa-a-a-nt. You ...” isn’ t that fuckin’ right! I nod in heartfelt  agreement. 

Flat and off key, I break into song wailing at the top of my lungs, "you just might find you get what you need…" And, in a Jumpin' Jack Flash this Honky Tonk woman and Mick are gunning it down the driveway…(TO BE CONTINUED).

Blog Hop - Reality Creation

I entered a blog on AWAKENING CHOICE DREAMS but it is one of those that would be suitable here so here it goes…
Go on over to REALITY CREATION to read about a personal dream coming true.

I'm adding this pic as a follow up to the post.

There's a bit of synchronicity here, as I'd said to a group on Saturday, "When I was a girl it was not "normal" for plastic bags to be blowing in the wind from the branches of trees and bushes…" and the very next day there it was. This was in a park not in a parking lot of a mall. Sadly, this isn't an abnormal sight for generations that have come after the boomers.

So, I untangled it and gathered some small bags that were nearby and I'll use it for other litter that I find on my outings cus if I find a bag I have made a pact with myself to do so. Maybe one day bags in trees and bushes will be an abnormal sight - that's a reality I hope to see in my lifetime.

MARE-ZEE-DOATS

On Saturday I was reading through letters and short stories I'd written in the '70's and '80's and came across a piece called MOVING DAY in which I recounted launching into an unforeseen two and a half year venture as a house-sitter.

A synchronic event compels me to post this part of the story and here's why…

Yesterday I checked in to see what's been going on at AMAIA DREAMS' DREAM BOARDS as I'd been absent for quite a few months now. One of the members had started a new category called MAGICAL MOMENTS wherein she suggested we would, "have an ongoing thread where we could share positive things, like a moment of gratitude or delight over something or a little magical moment that made us smile."

I glanced through the comments on the first page and this one jumped out at me, "Mares eat oats, and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy." These are lyrics from the song Mairzy Doats written in 1944 and much loved by my Mom.

As I was reading my story I wondered whether it was worth posting in my blog.

And then I read the comment in MAGICAL MOMENTS so here is an excerpt.

*       *       *

THE SET UP a summary -

A friend had helped me move out of the co-op house and took me to the house-sit. The owners were  out for the evening so we just dropped my belongings, stuffed into garbage bags, by the front door and headed out for dinner. When Sheib dropped me off, the house was in darkness and I had no idea where anything was. Basically I end up stumbling around, knocking things askew and swearing under my breath.

THE STORY from here -

"Shit!" I hop on my right foot, aiming all the while to grasp my left big toe with my left hand; the bags jostle on my back with a crinkling of plastic. The otherwise silent, still night is disturbed by the thumping of my feet and swearing. And then, giggling wafts down the hallway.

They're laughing at me. They're laying there in bed laughing at me, I am embarrassed by my clumsiness and lack of foresight to study the lay of the land before I'd headed out. No, they're not really laughing at me. They probably didn't even hear me come in. They're most likely having sex, sharing some sort of lovers' intimacy.

I'm just about to call out for some help with lighting when I trip over something at the bottom of the flight of stairs. As I try to keep from falling my hand hits a switch, turning on the light at the top of the stairway, welcoming me with its warm glow.

I trundle up the wooden stairs that creak with every footfall and make my way to "my" room.

Dropping the bags at the foot of the bed, fully clothed, I fall into its downy cushiness, falling into sleep moments later.

"Buckety coo, buckety coo…" the sounds of pigeons in the rafters above my head and the morning light streaming in wake me. I lay there, thrown back in time by the sound.

"No, they don't."

"Yes, they do. They sound exactly like that." And in a soft melodic voice my mother mimics, "Buckety coo, buckety coo. You just have to listen sometime. You'll hear it." She was telling me about her own childhood experience visiting an eccentric uncle who'd kept and trained carrier pigeons. Their chatter would waken her as she slept in a bedroom under the rafters of his home.

I thought she was pulling my leg. After all wasn't this the same woman who would sing, "Mare-zee-doats 'n doe-zee-doats 'n li'l lam-zee-die-vee. Kid-sel e-die-vee too woodn'-chew."

What the hell did that mean?

I think she sang it just to torment me until the day my ears finally deciphered, "Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy. Kids will eat ivy too. Wouldn't you?" and I smiled, delighted by the playfulness of words.

Laying here now, my ears confirm "buckety coo" as the official language of pigeon.

THE STORY CONTINUES ON FROM HERE

I had hoped to write a book (and make my fortune in the process) about my house-sitting misadventures; this was the opening chapter. Life happens while you're making other plans.

TAKE A NAP

I can't believe my last post was Mar 10th. I have entered 2 posts since then in the blog at AWAKENING CHOICE DREAMS, my website on dreams - The Missing Manual and Magical Mythstory Tour. I tend to hibernate towards the end of the winter months and early spring: my creative juices dry up, exposure to media overwhelms me, I really have nothing much to say and I just want to enjoy life and pull back a little. But I'm revving up now and ready to roll.

In Magical Mythstory Tour you'll read about my trip to Gore Mountain in New York state to attend Robert Moss' gathering of dreamers. I won't repeat it here, just hop on the link and read it for yourself. I'll wait...

...O.K. now that you're back there is one thing I forgot to add to that post, it's about another synchronicity that happened along the way.

A few days prior to leaving for my trip I visited Ryan Hurd's site DREAM STUDIES. The blog post that was up at the time was How To Survive The Corporate Culture of Sleep Deprivation and in it he included a video Occupy Sleep. I didn't have time to watch it at that moment so I kept it open in a tab. Over the next few days, every time I logged on Ryan would start talking, but I still didn't have time. The night before leaving on my road trip I tied up some loose ends. His video being one of them; I stopped and listened.

 In a nutshell - "Take a nap. Join the revolution."

The next day I'm driving to Gore Mountain. I haven't done too much distance driving and this trip will take me; Google maps says 6 hours but I figure closer to 8 hours accounting for time crossing the border, pit stops to pee (I have a squirrel bladder when I'm on the road), getting lost and finding my way back on track.

Making good time, I stop Clifton Springs to pee, grab an Americano, some cookies and a small packet of nuts. On my way to the entrance, no word of a lie... I see a licence plate that says NAP PAYS. Now, I have the wherewithal to text my sister who will find this amusing but I still don't clue in that my i-phone has a camera in it. Had I realized it at that moment I could have shared it with her, and you all too, but you'll just have to take my word for it.

Anyway, rather than sit in the coffee shop snacking and reading I took my stash back to the car because I figured the universe was telling me You'd better take that nap. Yup, Hurd was right. 10 minutes later I emerged bright eyed and bushy tailed, rarin' and ready to head out on my merry way into the unknown.

During the first gathering that night, surrounded by 30 plus very accomplished dreamers - many who have been returning to this place for 17 years, often 2 times a year - I realized I had indeed entered napping country for pays in French is the word for country.

We did many journeys over the weekend. If you dropped in you'd see people laying around under blankies with eye bags draped over their eyes or seemingly dozing in chairs. But the atmosphere was so charged with inspiration and energy that I had to take a few naps just to keep up - remember, at this time of year I'm emerging from a state of semi-hibernation. So, I must say thanks to Ryan for the great advice.

Participate in a revolutionary act...take a nap.

DANCES WITH SYNCHRONICITY

Yesterday Rod and I, movie buffs that we are, saw MIDNIGHT'S CHILDREN and THE LIFE OF PI at the Varsity Cinema in downtown Toronto. This theatre always has the best movies and with coffee shops, a Chapter's and a great little Italian restaurant surrounding the 3 flight escalator leading up to the Varsity it's a fun location to hang out while you're waiting for the show to start.

We had an hour to kill before the first show, so we sauntered over to the book store (I could spend a whole day in book stores) where I found a display of cook books. I'm not a bad cook myself - siege cooking is my specialty - making something out of whatever you find in your pantry. But, preferring to be elsewhere and doing anything but cook, most of the time, the kitchen is my swearing zone. I work at super human speed just to get the food and myself outta there. This behaviour, I believe, is a conditioned response from years of working in restaurants.

DEARIE - The remarkable life of Julia Child by Bob Spitz, with a youthful Julia on the book's cover smiling at something off in the distance, captured my attention. I loved watching her when I was a kid - that voice, that sense of humour, that great enthusiasm and of course the wall with the pots and pans outlines amused me no end. So there I stood for the hour browsing through its pages.

As I scanned the book, pausing here and there to read full sections, my memories of the original Julia Child mixed with amazing re-enactments of TV show episodes (that I'd enjoyed watching for real) performed by the brilliant Meryl Streep as Julia in the movie JULIE AND JULIA.

God I'd like to see that movie again, I said to myself. I'll have to rent the video.

My thumb lit on commentary about Dan Aykroyd's impersonation/parody of Julia preparing a chicken dish on a daytime T.V. interview show. She had cut her thumb in the process but continued on with her thumb wrapped in a towel. In Aykroyd's version she succumbs to her wound yelling "save the liver" as she collapses over the chicken. Child apparently loved this.

A here's a lovely synchronicity, Aykroyd has a connection with Julia. His aunt was considered the Julia Child of Canada. Here's the story about that and the birth of that handy kitchen gadget the Bassomatic...



Upon my return tonight from the monthly, full moon fire ceremony, which I found particularly powerful and magical, I performed my usual kitchen frenzy dance as I prepared myself squash soup combining left over squash and yam with freshly sautéed mushrooms, onions, garlic and turmeric. It was a siege cooking success. Since I'm no Julia Child, Rod enjoyed a nuked Shepherd's pie that I'd purchased from Longo's this afternoon.

We dined watching TV and as Rod flipped between channels there was Amy Adams, as Julie, blogging on her computer about her efforts to cook one of Julia's dishes; a scene from JULIE AND JULIA. A major hit for synchronicity! The movie includes Aykroyd's "save the liver" skit which was a lovely bonus.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to find the "save the liver" skit but, since there was also reference to Aykroyd's classic "bassomatic" skit, in both the book and the interview above, I'll include it for your enjoyment...

EZE EZE

Rod doin' EZE EZE Vancouver Island 2010

Last weekend I was one of the adult "campers" riding the big brown Tim Horton's bus on its 3 hour journey to the Tim Horton's Wellness Weekend at their Memorial Camp outside of Parry Sound. The air was filled with the excited chatter and laughter that only a bus full of women filled with anticipation of a weekend "off" from family responsibilities, can make. Let's just say that a very good time was had by all!

From Fri at 6pm to Sun at 6pm - 48 hours were theirs to be as active as they choose. Soapstone carving, massage and tai massage, educational talks on ageing parents and nutrition, spinning, pilates, yoga, nature walks, zip lining, meditation and dreamwork were some of the offerings. Also available to these hard working women (and a few hardy men) was the chance to: actually read a book, sleep in, sit by the lake on a beautifully sunny and relatively warm weekend, enjoy a wine tasting with hors d'oeuvres, and dance their butts off on Sat night to the sounds of MUSKOKA ROADS band.

48 hours - no cooking, grocery shopping or thinking about food; bliss! Whatever shall I try was my only thought as I perused the tray of appetizers presented for my consideration and as I stood by the tables loaded with fabulous dishes, beautifully presented by the hard working kitchen crew.

Not only was I an enthusiastic "camper" (I came home with a find soapstone carving of a turtle and zip lined this year - wooo hooo) but, for the 4th year, I was also a presenter.

In the first years we focused on: relaxation, stress management techniques and practical meditation. Over the years this has evolved into: creative visualizations and guided dream journeys with the voice and drum to gather healing, support and wisdom. We play dream games and explore the magic of synchronicity through everyday oracles and tapping into the wisdom that arises when a group gathers for this purpose.

I look forward to this weekend with excitement, anticipation and, I have to admit, some degree of anxiety. Each group is different, all contain people with varying degrees of exposure to the type of work I present. I come prepared to respond to what arises within the group and flow from its energy. Excitement and anxiety feel the same - so I can see this as a good thing or get hooked on any negatives that may be floating around in my mind ready to be taken up and amplified. Self-doubt threatens to overwhelm me.

As Rod drives me to Tim's head office in Oakville I relax my breath and take in the passing scenery. At the moment another wave of anticipation/anxiety begins to wash over me the words EZE EZE come into view. There they are blazoned on the licence plate on the car in front of us. Easy, easy; take it easy, you've got a lot of tools to draw from — relax. Not only did this synchronic event ease my self-doubt, it also provided me with a perfect example to use during the workshop to demonstrate synchronicity working through the appearance of an everyday oracle.

EZE EZE, such reassuring resources are available to us at all times. Sometimes we forget, that's all.

Note: All the proceeds from this event goes to the kid's camp!

Channelling Angelina

This pic appeared in Cristina's Blog
pictures via: celebrity-gossip.net/justjared.buzznet.com

Angelina Jolie, she of the pillowy, ruby red matte lips and catlike sweep of eyeliner at the Golden Globes 2012 stands regally overseeing her domain. The red slash blazoned across her collarbones, skims her left shoulder and then disappears into the white fabric wrapping around her torso and under her right arm adding a swanlike length to her neck. There can be no mistake who's in charge at this event nor in my dream of Friday night.

However in my dream, after a day of hard work alongside others in the fields and schools she stands hair-tousled in the drab, dusty brown garb of a soldier. Only her regal bearing reveals who she really is. She surveys the scene as all hurry about her organizing the troops for her inspection because SHE HAS ARRIVED.

What a contrast to the Angie of her early days rife with rebellious, distasteful images: Billy Bob Thornton's blood in a vial on a chain hanging around her neck, the steamy hot kiss shared with her brother at the 2000 Oscars, the home wrecker who stole the heart of the husband of America's sweetheart.

Action hero, adopted Mom of 3, birth mother to 3 more (a set of twins included) who tows her international brood around the world for work and education, movie star with clout, actress, director, humanitarian spokesperson and benefactor paired with another godlike yet down to earth alpha being.

Whether the "real life"Angelina knows or cares who she was, how she was perceived and how far she's come matters little to me. What matters is how I feel slipping into the role of the dream Angelina. I'm pleased with who I've become and my strength. I've discovered who I really am. I've dropped away all the games and roles. Be myself, follow where my heart leads and others will be inspired to support the work and do the same for themselves.

The action for the day...channel Angelina.

Greet the day from "her" vantage point. How does it feel? Does it change my actions and reactions? Will I be blessed with a new point of view; more optimism and self-confidence?

It's perhaps not surprising that this is also a technique sometimes used in hypnosis to help you reach your goals. Become who you want to become, or at least discover who you admire or who inspires you. By mimicking how it "feels" you are on your way. Walk around in their skin to find out how they got there and what it takes for them to continue being who they are. Back up this "fake it to make it" route with research, work and effort in order to achieve your goals. And use the feeling SHE HAS ARRIVED to inspire you on your way.

*          *          *

"REAL LIFE" SYNCHRONICITY:

The next morning (Sat) still working on "Angelinafying" myself.
Saturday morning - I send out an e-mail to a friend/fellow therapist confirming my appointment with her.
Saturday night - I receive an e-mail from her that starts...
Alpha Nance...
Sunday morning - I respond...
LMAO re: the alpha comment. She has no idea about this dream or my adventures in being the very "ALPHA" Algelina Jolie.
Sunday night - She responds.
This was a spell check error on the part of my i-phone. I typed in Aloha Nance and it got changed to Alpha Nance.

I love it! At least part of the universe got my message. I think I've still got a lot more work to do.

Dreams & Synchronicity - our teachers

SATURDAY JAN 7/12:
There were no dreams hovering around my awareness as I awakened this morning. Disturbing myself as little as possible, I lay on one side and then the other, but none came to call or even brushed by me. But, I'm not disappointed as there are many different ways of accessing the Dreamtime. One of my favourite is to pull a card from an amazing deck that I've used since the lomi training with Harriette and Birgit in 2005.

My mind drifts and floats in nothingness as I shuffle the Journey to Kanaka Makua cards. Unless clarification is needed I will only seek guidance from one card today. This deck is stunning in its clarity and accuracy, so one is usually sufficient. The deck fans out in my hands and my fingers find the one in 49 that is the vibrational match.

AHI - Fire emerges.

From within the message, these words feel important and right and are recorded in my journal:
"Burn away what stops you. Make way for the new." and "To create and destroy".

I don't seek out what is stopping me, from what am I being stopped, nor what new thing is coming my way. Rather I feed the cats, move to my mat for my yoga session, prepare for and treat my clients and later clear the bathroom for Rod to begin our long planned renovation. I keep Flippy and Maya company downstairs as bashing and crashing resounds from their upstairs lair and open up the book  AWAKENING TO THE SPIRIT WORLD - the Shamanic Path of Direct Revelation, to where I left off last night. At the top of the next page - page 103 is A FIRE CEREMONY. Authors Ingerman and Wessleman describe this ceremony used to release core beliefs that are blocking one from using their creativity to its fullest and living ones' life purpose. Fire with the power to destroy, transform, transmute and create is the perfect vehicle for this task. They describe how to discover your blocking belief(s) or attitude, create a symbolic power object and imbue it with these qualities. The object is then burned in ceremony releasing these blocks in the process.

As I was typing this blog I referred back to my journal entry to make sure that I have the wording of the message from the cards correct and I'm drawn to glance through my previous night's dream. Something, I can't recall just what, is calling me. My last recorded dream describes a small fetish wearing blue and wrapped with a leather cord. I can call up the image as vividly now as I experienced it in the dream. I was curious about it but gave it no other thought once I began my day. Ingerman and Wesselman describe such a stick with some yarn wrapped around it and perhaps a letter or picture.

The synchronicity of these events is staggering. I have been given an answer to the question I'd posed before dreaming the other night How can I move forward and manifest my dream workshops? and was shown a vehicle to help make it so. To make it all the more clear I was provided with a book that explains just what this is, how to make it and its ceremonial purpose.

As I walked today I meditated on these blockages, recalled my dream object and later crafted it out of found and natural objects. The monthly fire ceremony in Ancaster is tonight, I will go as planned and burn it all away.

Note: I haven't taken a picture of the object. Once it has served its purpose it is meant to be destroyed.

KEEPING THE WOLVES AT BAY

I woke up today with a dream that had occurred on many levels, containing strong and unsettling sensations. It was one of those dreams that you just want to shoo under the bed and ignore, but the feeling hung upon me like a heavy weight. This sense remained even after I'd recorded the dream and done the lightning dreamwork process I've learned from Robert Moss. I realized that in order to go deeper I needed to re-enter the dream as I lay there in a still somewhat hypnogogic state. As I re-entered my dream I found myself taking a broad overview in that:

1.  I viewed what was occurring from a higher vantage point in terms of my visual perspective
2.  I saw the dream events happening concurrently 

Immediately this phrase came into my head I'M KEEPING THE WOLVES AT BAY; accompanied by a strong visceral sensation of physical tension and exhaustion.

Though there were no wolves in the dream the peoples in it were like wolves who had trapped their prey (I and my people) as they gathered and awaited in a bay offshore in huge galleons prepared to attack our small, peaceful, agrarian island. We had no choice but to surrender. I was organizing the colony to prepare a welcome. I would go out to meet our conquerors and arrange terms takeover and peaceful co-habitation. As I set out I was somewhat relieved and optimistic (this threat must have been hanging over us for a long time) perhaps some good will come of this I told myself.

As soon as I committed that phrase to paper I felt relief as an AH HA moment washed over me. The feeling in my dream and the one crawling under my skin were congruent and had been named. That's how I'm feeling, accompanied by a sense of loss and sorrow (the latter emotions are not new to me, they arise just before Christmas every year). I told myself, just get through it (these emotions) you know it will pass as it always does, but today I agreed to rather let it and all associated thoughts, sensations and emotions pass through me because it will pass as it always does and went about the day's activities mindful of this intention.

This afternoon during a pre-shiatsu discussion my client comments that she's KEEPING THE WOLVES AT BAY with self-care preventative measures so that she won't have more difficulty later on or have to resort to more invasive therapy after recently suffering a motor vehicle accident.

OK you've got to look deeper into this, I told myself.

So here's what I found:

• If you keep the wolves at bay you make enough money to avoid going hungry or falling heavily into debt (UsingEnglish.com)
• TO KEEP AT BAY - to keep someone or something at a safe distance - the bay tree was supposed to have protective powers and it is said that the bay laurel was used as a remedy during the time of the Great Plague of London. Abai is the Old French word for "barking of hounds in a pack" the English word baying as of hunting hounds shares the root. This source goes on to talk about French idioms connected with stag hunting used when the stag tires of the chase and turns to face the pursuing hounds and at this point the stag is itself at bay as it holds the hounds at bay which conveys the sense of the English phrase. Source: http://users.tinyonline.co.uk/gswithenbank/sayindex.htm

Dream play

HOW IS WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY LIFE LIKE A DREAM?

When I haven't recalled a dream, I like to ask myself that question. Then, I observe what happens as I go about my day. You'd be surprised at the frequency of "dream-like" happenings that break through into "waking life". This reminds me that the veil between the worlds is very thin.

I witnessed a dream-like day being lived by Hannah, a woman attending a workshop at the OMEGA CENTRE a few weeks back. Most people come to the centre to further their learning on a specific topic or for R&R. Many, like myself, have been reading about, studying or applying the techniques that is the  topic of their chosen workshop, but not Hannah.

I first met her when I went for lunch with 2 other participants from Robert Moss' SHAMANIC LUCID DREAMING dream group. The workshop had finished that morning and we were lingering, wanting to squeeze out the last bit of inspiration from the gathering and share more of our life and dream experiences. We descended upon a table occupied by one person (this would be Hannah), who graciously allowed us to share the space with her.

She listened intently and even joined in on the conversation by asking questions. When I asked her what she was here for she said she wasn't sure. She wasn't on R&R exactly as she'd half-heartedly signed up for a workshop of which she had little, if any, prior knowledge. I found this both bewildering AND fascinating.

After some time we all reluctantly dispersed with hugs and words of appreciation and bid each other fare well.

As I sat at a dinner table in the dining hall that same night (I stayed the extra night to give myself some down time before making the 9 hr drive back home) in walked Hannah with a "friend" who she'd just met. The woman was a Shamanic practitioner here to attend a SHAMANIC workshop with John Perkins. Again Hannah listened in on a lively discussion between myself and the Shamanic practitioner. We went our separate ways: I to the library to research Perkins' writing and later to the bookstore to purchase one of his books; the "friend" to her workshop and, because Hannah wasn't sure if her workshop was starting that night, she headed out on a mission to find out what was happening.

The next morning, as I sat talking with another of Robert's students who'd also taken an extra day for R&R, Hannah appeared again. And once more she took a seat and proceeded to listen in on our conversation. Her workshop hadn't started the previous night but was to begin after brekkie. She seemed ambivalent, not at all excited about it and said that she was told that she could switch workshops if she wanted.

"If this was my experience", I said, using a dreamwork technique, "It would seem that I was meant to take the Shamanic workshop. After all, of all of the people that you could come across in the dining room at OMEGA 3 times in a row you ended up at tables where all we talked about was Shamanism. Every one of us has studied and participated in a Shamanic workshop. There were 3 at your table yesterday afternoon, 2 last night and now the 2 of us. This adds up to the number of karmic return so, if it were me I'd go to that one for sure!"

I don't know if Hannah changed over to the Shamanic workshop or even showed up for the one she'd initially signed up for. For all I know she decided to hang out, visit with other guests (most likely she'd end up at a "shamanic" table anyway) and get a little R&R. Whatever she did was right for her. But man it seemed as if the universe was doing its darndest to get her attention.

How was this experience like a dream for me, you might ask. In my dream of this experience (Hannah) I was a little like a sleep-walker unconsciously drifting through life while opportunity for awakening is knocking at my door, not once but 3 times. Do I follow its lead? Only time will tell. Where will it take me? Only time will tell that too :)

TOMORROW play in the field of dreams by asking HOW IS WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY LIFE LIKE A DREAM.