Tracking Confirmations

What is it that lives in the ephemeral corridor between waking and sleep? The source of guiding whispers that stir me from dreams of flying whales, softly landing me back into my bed with helpful hints.

Does this source – whatever it may be – impart mystical knowledge? The secret meaning of life  unveiled as I awake from my dreams?

No, it is most usually something earthly and common. Typically, quite random. And in the instance of my most recent, rousing transmission, I left my dreamtime cetacean friends and woke to this communication:

“Check the bottom left hand drawer of your desk and you’ll find the postal tracking receipt for your passport.”

I took great pains to mail my passport renewal with a return receipt and required signature. I recall the transaction at the post office ending with paper clips, post it notes and some well-laid filing plan. Though, for all of my efforts, I apparently over-organized myself to the point of not being able to find where I put my documentation.

Hence, weeks later, my passport had still not arrived and I was left with no tracking number or paperwork to show I’d ever mailed it.

Until the waking whisper.

Hours later, I’m at my desk and I remember the mundane murmurs that had come that morning through the passage between dreams and my pillow.

Why not? I reach down to the lower left hand drawer and open it.

And just exactly where it had been suggested, my dated paperwork, details on sticky notes, and the postal receipt with a tracking number are there, all paper clipped together.

usps receiptWhat’s more, later that afternoon, I open my post office box to find my new passport inside. No more tracking necessary.

So, what is the source of this information that is passed to my brain in the haze of early waking? Are these dreamtime gods?

Angels? My subconscious, that somehow knows all?

I may never know the answer to this question.

Whoever/whatever it is that offers these lucid inklings, I like their style. The delivery of something practical with a little mystical flair. Dreamy and soft, mysterious transmissions gifting me treasured secrets.

Pearls of wisdom. Like the location of my postal tracking receipt. Now that’s some info I can use.

 

Post Script to Working Title

PSAt 2:39am I wake thinking about my most recent musings on the dreamy life of being a housewife (see Working Title).

I wonder if I’ve simply become shallow. Fallen prey to a Western perspective of infinite resources and entitled abundance which has completely narrowed my view to a series of “I wants.” I fear I may have lost touch with the essence of sheer existence on this planet. Forgetting that I am but a mere mortal clinging to the surface of the earth, lucky to be breathing and having any form of sustenance to support my little life.

So I dig deeper.

What I find beneath the collection of “I wish I had…” (more time at home, more space in the day, less distraction) is an arrow pointing toward, what I think, may be one, fundamental human need. A requirement that arises after the basics – food, water, shelter – have been met. And that is to live a life that is in alignment with what one values. A need to live true. True to our hearts.

Different strokes for different folks, and certain values may vary from person to person. But what I suspect, as I look around at my fellow humans, is that many of us are living a life that is not quite in line with whatever it is that we hold most dear. That through circumstance and our present economic structure, many are forcing themselves to adapt to a life that feels foreign to their basic nature.

I realize that for an unemployed person, hopeful for any opportunity for work, my trite piece on the desire to be a housewife may sound luxurious. But on further introspection, what I see behind my words is a longing to live my life the way that feels most natural, most in line with everything I cherish.

For me, those precious things are home, garden, family, art.

It may be easy to say that these yearnings are like wanting to have the cake a la mode and eat it too. That one should just be happy that they have a job, a roof over their head, food on the table. Yes, I am very grateful for these things. There have been times in my life when some of those were not so easily attainable.

But what would the world look like if we set our sights a little higher? If the basics were established for everyone and we could move on to living life that expressed each of our unique talents and gifts? Everyone of us has something great to contribute to the whole. I believe our hearts’ desires are the compass points, there to help us find our way in gifting that.

Maybe my Working Title piece was a bit of a laugh on myself that, perhaps, my greatest desire is to inhabit the simple (sometimes unfairly ranked) existence of a “housewife”. Albeit an artistic one.

I guess this post script is here to chronicle my deeper ponderings on the question of whether I’m caught with the case of the ‘want mores’ or if there’s something deeper tugging at my spirit.

I’ll continue to reflect on these deep thoughts.

But before things get too philosophical, I’ll offer up my next Archive post, The Poo Pile: the superficial musings on the crappy side of being married to a farmer.

The Substance of Pumpkins

by dim light
cast from
the stove top range
I wrestle with the brushes
from an eight year old’s
paint set
moving colored water
across paper
in 4am dark
quiet
I don’t want to wake anyone
just feel
the weight
of all things
pumpkin
still fresh
from the dream

armloads of thick-skinned
squashes
root vegetables
ten pound pumpkins
all set and sorted
to be plated in gold

a bracelet offered
that fit
half my forearm
rainbow moonstone
milky irridescence
squared
in rosy
copper banding

interpreters of dreams
suggest
the essence
holds the meaning

friends bestowing
substantial treasures

I’m the first one
in my house
this morning
awake
layering oranges and greens
in the corner of the kitchen
no reason

outlining
two dimensions
in gold