In the bliss of life, we sail. Although nightmares prevail.
Dreams are doors to the unconscious. Yesterday’s dream had no picture. Audio only.
I know I had this dream as someone let me know I was in a euphoric state of happiness while deeply unaware. In this state, I released small sighs of glee and excitement.
I do remember the emotions now after being questioned this morning. I was reminded of the experience and I want to understand more. I searched for imageless dreaming and found relatively little on the subject.
So what would an awareness of life be like if we never sensed objects? What door would mean anything? Every step would be a transport to eternity.
So sleep well friends. Rest a while and may you be blessed with sweet dreams. Sound fantasy without image to bitter the taste.
Have any of you ever had such dreams? I am curious if anyone has leads to read further on the subject. Please send links!!! 😘❤️
timid soul sparks light a feeble space to wonder sharpen iron words
And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.
Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath
What doors do you require to walk through, to understand yourself? Your neighbor’s door? Your back door? A stranger’s door?
Jesus said, ‘I am the door’ (John 10:7) in order to make it clear that no one can come to the Father except through Him.
of and for
I am ill.
My heart is broken
in need of deep repair
and I wept at the sign
hung around my neck
that read “tired soul”.
Worcester MA has many beautiful church buildings. These church doors were closed so no inside photos. So why do churches lock their doors? Why do we feel it is okay to criticize these doors being locked versus locking our home’s doors? And to be fair, they posted a sign to try the doors on a side street. So when did I stop knocking?
be kind creation
smile on your birding friend
glimpse the miracle
Snowy Owl. Plum Island MA 1/25/2020. Atlantic Ocean.
I hesitated to post my photos of my snowy owl trip since the owl photos are a bit blurry. But hell people, it is a Snowy Owl! And my first encounter. But certainly not the last.
This bird is down right stunning, majestic, gorgeous, and oh so patient. I watched the wind ruffling her feathers, her ever alert, keen sense of hearing, and her head turning to see the four corners of the tundrous field for close to an hour. She flew but never far away. She glided as a seaplane hovering the waters.
My heart skipped beats as I encountered this regal bird. I will talk of this for years to come. I thank you for being part of this monumental day. I left the island with a skip in my step. And hope.
Field notes to those wanting to take part in life’s sacred dance. Please remember to tread lightly. Earth’s preciousness is a gift we should treasureand never take for granted.
When you face challenges, you naturally search for answers.
Have you, like me, ever fallen under a woven world’s wordspell? Some of Anthony’s poems on Hands in the Garden appear sensible and others completely obscure. For most of Sink to Surface, you enter another dimension. And even then you may never comprehend the road map.
Anthony Gorman’s first book may be the last place you think to look when in need. But perhaps it should be the first. And not necessarily to find answers, to solve problems. Rather to take a reprieve from life itself. Wander in wonderlands and eat chocolate and dream visions of peace.
Anthony’s work is never the ordinary. Do not expect truths to be spelled out in black and white. Expect to sift through technicolor visions and wade in waist deep, until you are ready to drown.
“My portion of proceeds will be going directly to an ethically sound and creative cause called The Art for Aid Project, which aims to bring art supplies to indigenous communities to assist in the process of internal healing.To find out more about their mission, click below.