The other pandemic that attacks the breath – racism and police brutality. How power is wielded, how power can be wielded and how to change the dynamics of power.
Even if we can’t be where we were meant to be (I’m supposed to be in Oregon tonight), there is still a place to be.
When there is a communal traumatic experience, like this pandemic, often all we can do is to get through.
How dreams can help us as we are all asked hold all that the pandemic is handing us – which is so much.
Why we won’t really find what a dream “means” in a dream dictionary because it is not really the image in the dream that the dream is interested in.
At the root of “liminal” is the place of threshold. Dreams are thresholds – and raise questions about what we believe are our limits.
In the liminal, two elements – human and archetypal – create a lush ecosystem of the dream landscape particular to each dreamer.
A liminal zone is a place where two ecosystems meet and an entirely new ecosystem is created. Dreams, of course, are liminal zones.
I have been considering silence. The kind of silence that carries refusal of speaking, action, presence. That carries the violence of absence.
Writing, poetry and dreams – all three slay me, thrill me, scare me, gasp me and take off the top of my head. They all also utterly change me.
I am a U2 fan. It is true. Mostly unabashedly. I love them, in part, because they teach me to speak, to sing, to leap into living life from a place of passion.
Dream: I arrive at a lush field after a long journey. An enormous lion, luxoriously, is being combed by two girls. My father is on the other side of the field.