A dream you dream alone is only a dream.
A dream you dream together is a reality.
John Lennon
Yesterday evening, just before sunset, I joined a group of ladies from little our country town up on a little mountain appropriately named Little Mountain. Our little country town is probably not much different than other little country towns, including the thought that our little country town is the best and most unique of all little country towns. Most if not all of those gathered there yesterday evening, except for me, grew up in or has deep rooted heritage ties to this special little place. Here a top Little Mountain we were guests of whom I consider the unsurpassed town historian. His passion, dedication, and respect for the historical events and people of our little country town is beautiful and admirable; isn’t always so to see that, to see within someone that they are living their purpose, their life calling; is it his dream to keep this history alive and well? He shared intriguing stories; some which brought tears of laughter others tears of sorrow. We then took a short jaunt to an antiquated tiny cemetery tucked in among junipers, cedars, sage, oak, scrub brush; a place I have wanted to visit for such a long time. There, on sacred ground I stood, wishing for a moment to travel back in time, wishing I had real feet so to take off my shoes and feel the hallowed earth below. Now knowing some of the story of the few buried there, I couldn’t help but wonder and want to know more about them. Two are small children, a young man in his teens, a woman and a man both who also crossed over at young ages. What were their hopes, desires, what were their dreams?
While I have much to journal about last evening, I remain with the thought of living the life of dreams. Last week I was invited to a delightful neighbor’s home to play in clay. She is a retired art teacher, an amazing artist in her own right. Prior to taking BIG, I would have been totally intimidated, embarrassed by my lack of talent but since the online course, I have been able, with a growing degree, overcome such intimidation, I have discovered a freedom in realizing I am not an ‘artist’ but a ‘create-ist’ and that is more than enough for me. I have had a desire to play in clay for years; I have all the tools for playing in clay; I have dabbled in clay, spoken of my desire to learn more and play more with clay. While my artist neighbor longs for her sculpture to look just like the model, I feel a sense of sweet surrender in just longing for the joy in the process, and if by chance my sculpture has any resemblance to the model well, that will be an added bonus of joy. I expressed this clay play day with a friend of mine who said in response, “good for you, you’re living a dream.” Yes, those were his exact words as he reminded me of what I had told him over 5 years ago about my desire to live here full time, in our little country town, and play in clay. This reminder trickled down to other reminders such as wanting a front yard, flower and vegetable gardens, to learn of intuitive writing and painting, to prepare for at least a half marathon. I have written of these, learned from these over the past year and yet, how did I forget the clarity and simplicity of these dreams?
This morning my oldest son sent me a message telling me he was signing us up for a half marathon on December 4th, 2 days prior to my joyful jubilee. There are tons of apples waiting to be picked from the apple trees out back, in fact, as I write a neighbor and my youngest son are picking them now. My vegetable gardens are waiting to be tilled back into the earth, to rest for a season or two. The grass in the front yard is dancing with the falling autumn leaves. I have an intuitive painting in the works on the bedroom floor and my last post is an example of intuitive writing. This week I will begin DEEP, the online workshop which follows BIG. Thursday I’ll be joining my neighbor for another clay play day. While I so dream of wanting to time travel back to the early days of our little country town, isn’t that just what we did yesterday evening. Even my dream of having Jeff back with me is alive as he has never left my heart. The dream of having legs, well, I suppose this too is alive and well albeit they are plastic, rubber, metal for I am able, even from the wheelchair, to accomplish all of what I dream.
After returning home from such a wonderful evening on Little Mountain, I read a facebook post which said, “Don't know why I'm being "told" to share this, but when I get "marching orders", I obey. Could it be for you?" After which she quoted from The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. Here is in part what she posted (thank you Tracie):
“We like to pretend it is hard to follow our heart’s dreams. The truth is, it is difficult to avoid walking through the many doors that will open. Turn aside your dream and it will come back to you again. Get willing to follow it again and a second mysterious door will swing open. The universe is prodigal in its support…We say we are scared by failure, but what frightens us more is the possibility of success. Take a small step in the direction of a dream and watch the synchronous doors flying open…”
How beautiful, marvelous, joyful it is to know, simply know, the doors have been flying open along on this my 49th year journey.
Our little gathering at the cemetery yesterday evening.
Blessings Bliss and Dreams
If you’re interested in New Harmony, seeing gorgeous photos, or just the amazing research, dedication, honor, passion one man has for his history visit http://www.brentprince.blogspot.com