Life overflows with synchronicity. We often overlook these coincidences because we are not in tune with our surroundings. Since I’ve been taking the time to be attentive this year, I’ve had several things speak to me…actually feels a bit like they’re shouting, but the words are still muffled…
Over the past three weeks I’ve read four books by four different authors, and in each of them they have stated not to take things personally. I am sensitive and always think things are about me. Seriously, how self-absorbed am I? I’m trying to look at the bigger picture. I am seeing how much of what I think is about me is really about someone else’s mood or motive. I’m also realizing I am not a key player in these scenarios as I’ve worked myself up to be. I’m learning to let go, and it sure feels good.
Lately I have seen or heard about vision boards. It made me think of this book I started reading once that was saying about how you can manifest your desires by writing them down. At first I thought it was reasonable as I do like to write, but the more I thought about it, I thought it would be a selfish thing for me to do. Anyway, now I see vision boards popping up in movies, magazines, and on blogs. It keeps tugging at me, and I keep shrugging it off. I can’t seem to shake it. I’m getting better about listening, so today I did my version of one. This reminded me of how much I’ve always loved making collages. For some strange reason, I felt relief after I did it…however, I make no promises as to whether I will ever show it to anyone or not.
I dream vividly, but few of the dreams stick with me long after I wake up. I’ve had three fairly recent dreams that have kept me thinking. I feel like they each have hidden meanings which have made me rethink some of my misconceptions about myself. I’m going to recap them here for you…feel free to analyze them for me.
Dirt Man and I were at some type of a reunion, like a gathering of high school friends, maybe. We were walking around and talking which is typical of get togethers. There were tables everywhere, some with food and others where people had placed their belongings. There were several rows of folding chairs like that of an assembly hall. I placed my purse in one of the seats and we moved on to talk to people. When we came back my purse was missing. I became frantic and asked others to help me find it. I told them it was a simple white purse. People kept coming up to me with various white purses and asking if it was mine and I’d say no and describe mine as somehow being different like smaller or a clutch. They stopped bringing me shoulder bags and started arriving with small white smooth clutch purses. Then I mentioned mine was puckered near the top at the zipper. Someone thrust one at me and it looked like mine so I peered inside and confirmed by the contents it was mine. There were two items in it I had been afraid of losing, but I can’t remember what either was.
I was at a salon getting my hair cut. I told the stylist I only wanted it lightly trimmed. I watched her work through the mirror. Huge hunks of my hair were flying everywhere. I was so frantic I couldn’t breathe. The stylist kept telling me how much I was going to love it. I was completely unable to respond. When she finished the longest bit was one side of the length which almost hit the top of my shoulder and the other side was about four inches shorter with the middle center part buzzed and about an inch circumference buzzed so that the waves on the long side stuck out and flowed and the short side just sort of hung. I wanted to die. She removed the cape and never asked if I liked it. I couldn’t speak. She walked away leaving me in the chair. Then she stomped back toward me and said “that bitch (referring to the receptionist) says I can’t get my tip from her.” I told her it was ok I’d bring it to her. Seriously, I was still going to tip someone who’d not only did not listen to me but totally destroyed my hair? I walked in a daze wandering around the salon looking for Dirt Man. He looked at me with his finger on his chin and asked if I really liked it? I told him no but I just didn’t know what to do. He told me to find the manager. I continued wandering around the salon in a daze until I ran upon the manager (someone from my real life hairdressing days), and I woke up before I spoke.
I was apparently a student who just received a graded writing assignment. It was something I had worked long and hard on and had counted on getting a good grade. The paper was marked “E/65pts” which was in fact a failing grade; however there wasn’t a single grammatical mark on the paper. I knew the work was original and thought provoking. I was stunned. Where had I gone wrong? I kept staring at the grade over and over. There was cover page with a list for the teacher to check for points counted off, yet all of the infractions remained unchecked. I kept scanning the paper and finally noticed the very last line had an ever faint tiny line on it and it was worth a whopping 35 points stating FAILURE TO INCLUDE THIS CHECK SHEET WITH YOUR REPORT WILL RESULT IN A THIRY-FIVE POINT LOSS.
I often think of someone and the phone rings and they’re on the other end. I imagine we all are products of happenstance at one time or another. There has been much occurring in my life and around me; however, for some reason these dreams and coincidences have provoked intense reflection within me.
Living in the Gap
February 1, 2012 – hot bath
As I took a simple bath for granted, I was reminded it is a luxury to some, and if put in perspective is generally a pleasure for most. The hot water rushed and tumbled from the faucet, quickly inching its way up the aqua tub until it became a blue pond. The heat invited my aching bones. As I submerged into the searing wetness, the vapor rolled from my skin. All was quiet except for my breathing. With each inhale and exhale the water waved around my legs. Then the drip, drip, drip of the beads dribbling through the pipes and plunging into the pool of water began. Creak. Crack. Pop. The door? The wall? The vent? The pipes? Who knows the origins of creaks in old houses? Still the warmth of the water enveloped me, and I eased into solitude. As I exited the tub the steam rose from my body and met the air and mingled, settling as fog on the mirror. How often our heads and hearts rise to meet one another in a haze until they balance…