socall me wren

When I was a child I experienced a few recurring dreams. All three were so different from each other that I wonder at times if I was inhaled to a past life.

One dream in particular was disturbing. There were a gaggle of children adorned in drab grey uniforms (myself included) being escorted from school to a bus. Clearly, we were going on a field trip. The bus takes us to a tall white building. Not a skyscraper, more the height of an old oak tree.

We were then corralled up a flight of stairs as we waited entry. Once the door opened, our adolescent assembly line continued climbing around the interior perimeter of the building. It was hot. Fires were burning white deep in the earth below us. Up ahead, I could see a square platform where a uniformed guard stood watch.

As I climbed closer I saw. The children were falling. Why are they falling, I asked myself? The heat was overwhelming and I tried to stand closer to the wall. As I watched these children cascade from the platform, I realized they had no expressions. No fear, no sound. The only cacophony was from the hungry fire we hovered.

That was when I got it. We climbed, we trailed and we fell. Emotionless, fearless death.

I can’t say this day has been particularly great but it hasn’t been horrible either.  Most of the time I tried to write but all this negativity came out.  Complaining about this or bitching about that.  Not my usual style.  Work wasn’t flowing, the weather is beautiful and rainy and moody.  Perhaps that is all it takes to get me too inside my head.  Perhaps I need to disengage for a while.  Hard to say really because so often there is a pull for connection concocted with adversity. So what came out of that conundrum was watching CocoRosie on YouTube.  What I stumbled upon was this lovely documentary directed by David Kleijwegt called The Eternal Children.  This film highlights the reality of this generations hippie movement.  But in a light not much different from that of the 60’s. You see people who love freely, without judgment or expectation.  feel free energy, souls who absorb innocence and create a vibration that envelops you.  They sustain life and love at a rudimentary and childlike level.  Lovely and divination to what constitutes in ‘normal’ peoples eyes as pathetic and lowly.  I myself have been deemed a hippiemama more than once in my day but I don’t think it is entirely true.  Too many pieces of me have fractured into trying to be a piece of everything.  Is that fractured or is it diverse?  Deeply I would like to be a part of some kind of community but whether that be something much larger than myself or something micro, that I create has yet to be determined.

At times I miss that person, that pre-sexuality innocence that was full of life.  That protective barrier we had – our safety.  Sierra explains toward the end of the film that her artistic character is so child-like because it hides or takes away the despair of adulthood and responsibility.

There are yellow daisies on my mantle.

please enjoy this next piece called El Camino Real by William Basinski – he describes his music as “amniotic”.  He is right – it takes me away into a little bubble that floats high in my room, watching as words tumble by…

This little family of mine is complicated.  We have many layers of distress that are constantly being stretched to the nth degree.  Today was a phone call.  Not a pleasant voice on the other end of the phone, which I now realize deeply hurts me.  The call wasn’t for me but for my daughter.  I do realize there are many things people are hurting over but is it really necessary to perpetuate the wound?  My role as a woman, adult, parent here is to take the high road, to make decisions that I feel most benefit my family.  No one person has answers to anything, just a little support when needed – which ultimately is what the universe needs…a little support.  Anyway, this phone call was distressful because I know both parties hurt over decisions that have been made over actions performed. We reap what we sow, at least that’s the karma of it all.

I question my decisions on a daily basis.  But there is a point in life when a person needs to remember their ‘self’.  That inkling of humanity and preservation.  Where do we create balance?  What if another party is involved who doesn’t want to communicate or points all blame outside?  If we want to heal, how can we open those gates  if we know we are going to be trampled or feeling lost justice?  Generally, I am not one to close my doors or put up barriers but this one feels depressingly necessary.  A large part of me feels that if I give in now, a palpable sense of my being will be lost.  Follow protocol, stand my ground and refrain from lashing out to the one person who throws stones in glass houses.