High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘Dream’

Containing all possibilities, every nuance, and every permutation of them, the largeness of the Great Mind stretches farther than the sky.

Even the impossibilities are held within it.  Even lawlessness conforms to its order.

All we can imagine and all the things we cannot begin to dream play within its realms.

You and I are within it, and were, even before our beginnings.  And it is within us, and soars beyond our imagined boundaries, pulling us forever deeper into the timeless, endless space where all is unity and love.

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Here, in the center of this calm, a scent rises, a leaf falls.  The waters of time are sailing into tomorrow.

Soon this day will be but a dream, its emerald turned to gold, its stillness become a rush of wind and wings.

But now, tomorrow is the dream.  Now the sleepy afternoons still linger and the willows sway beside the pond.  I let its cool waters buoy me.  Its colors feed my soul.

When night falls, the elders, having sensed the subtle shift in things, will search the sky for signs. Then they will sleep beneath a now of stars and moonlight and the waters of time will sail on.

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It’s too hot to sleep; we may as well dance.  In Australia the winter snow is falling and summer is only a dream.

So let us tango while we still may.  Soon we shall be dreaming as well.

Now, while the buzz of the insects and the call of crows fill the afternoon air, in the haze of the day and the blaze of the sun, let us dance.

Let us shake the earth and wake the rain and thunder with our passion and our grace.

While the green still wraps around us, let us tango.  Let us dance.

The sun sails over the hilltops, wide awake.  I watch it float like a giant balloon over the roof of the vine-covered shed, spilling its lemon light in little puddles on the dewy grass.

Higher it sails, over the rooftop of the house.  Its rays glide across the red geranium on the painted deck and tickle the potted baby tomatoes that peek out from behind their lacy leaves .  They blush in its light, showing their first hints of orange.

I’m still in my pajamas, but the cardinal is whistling a come-hither song from the spruce and the fragrance of fresh coffee is drifting up the stairs to my room.  I follow its scent and pour some into a mug.  I walk barefoot with it across the wet grass to the garden just as the sun’s light illuminates the lilies.  A crescendo of birdsong rises.

Sipping my coffee as I watch everything wake to the light, I think I must still be dreaming.  How else could I be so lucky to walk amidst such perfection?

The sky and waters and all that lie above and below them leave their marks, etch their colors on your mind.   Everything you perceive is but an interpretation of the dance; the reality is too large for seeing.

It’s the paddling itself that enriches and grows you, the experience of moving through the dream, the way your interpretation shapes its flow.  It becomes whatever you name it.

Call it rough and the waters of the dream will roil and churn; call it calm and it will be so.  That’s its magic.  It reflects you to yourself and shows you the consequences of your naming it.

It paints your mind in layers, comprehending your meaning.  It knows whether you are intending adventure or fear when you order rough waters.  It knows whether the calm will evoke boredom from you or peace.

Paddle on; the journey is for your bliss and understanding.

Exhaling, the Great Yes sends its dreams into the worlds.  They ride through the dimensions, each one finding its place, its season, and there they unfold.

From within the fields of time, what was, what is and what will be appear as separate things. Their unity is hidden.

The dreamers who live out the dreams experience their perfection as potential.  But they are perfect nonetheless, having sprung from the imagination of the Great Yes itself and wearing its stamp.  And their experiencing is perfect, too, regardless of the labels they make up from within their illusions.

Then the Great Yes inhales, and all its dreams return to it colored with the knowledge and understanding of what it was like to be in the fields of time.  And the heart of the Great Yes embraces them and glows with love, and joy and compassion, and it exhales, sending forth its dreams.

Now is the time for focus, for crystallizing dreams.  Now: reach for the looming possibilities, the taunting desires. Claim them, name them, hold the vision of them fast.

Shine on them the light of your passion and daring.  Let their structure and details be revealed.

Taste the reality of their potential. Adopt their fulfillment as your mission, your quest.  Let nothing deny you.  Give way to no hesitation or doubt.

Say, “This is mine.  This shall be.” Then vow to make it so, regardless of obstacles, whether you know the way or not.  The way will appear as you walk it.

Trust.  Dare.  Crystallize the dream.  Live it.  Know its joy.

Reaching up, feeling sun, touching sky.
Something comes.

A promise, a potential.
Wait quivering.
Stretch higher.

Taste the dream, whispering “Be!”
Hear it laugh.
Hear it roar across the hours.
Something comes.

Fell it fill you.  Feel it feed you.
Feel it setting you afire.

Feel its fingers touch your body.
Feel its spirit touch your soul.

Wait.  Wait.  Reach up.  Touch sky.
Something comes.
Be ready.
Something comes.

Travel your dream stream.  See where it goes.  Let it lead you beyond all the places you’ve traveled before, beyond the curve of the known.

Float it into new realities, the ones that call you from your deepest desires, that wear the colors of all your highest longings, fulfilled now and come to life.  Go ahead.

Step onto the dream shores, walk into the cities. Watch  your thoughts take tangible shape the moment that you think them and morph according to your command until its all exactly as you want it to be, wish it to be, and more glorious than you could ever have imagined.  Because it is more.

Pick up a souvenir and tuck it in your memory.  When you come back to where you started, roll it around in your hand.  Then watch how things change.  Just watch how wondrously things change.

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Like music released from the depths of the soul, the delicate dream seeds dance free.  As light as hope, they lift their precious cargo skyward, in offering to the tomorrows.

For timeless hours they’ll sail, aloft on the breeze, relishing their release, their chance to bring all the beauty that nestles within them to life.

The lucky ones will find fertile ground where some intelligence will enfold them, sheltering them through the winter’s long snows.  And nestled there, they’ll grow, their dream stuff taking shape, multiplying in complexity, each unfolding its own unique form.

But for now they are free, aloft on the breeze.  Take one.  Nurture it through the winter.  See what grows.