It happens occasionally, by far the exception not the rule or norm, to see deeply wounded people react negatively to me.
My dream seemed to be an electronic game played upon a pearlescent white shimmering gold screen. Upon which faintly appeared two stick figures without faces. They bowed to one another and began to move in mirror of one another. First I thought they were dancing then the motions became combative and the word Ninja came to mind. Since the figures began to make throwing motions towards where the faces should have been. Oddly I began to see two dimensional rectangles somewhat like invisible photographs or post cards, in outline, towards the vacant spaces above the headless stick figures and I awoke . . . .
Reflections:
I have often referred to disquiet, become fear, then hatred of doctors and medical places. Writing the scenario of my dream I recognize myself in hospitals as a child captive to cribs . . . like cages . . . exactly what and where I left my daughter in custodial terminal care. There was no room between the cribs, more nearly pressed against one another, except for an adult to move as though the adult were watering plants in a nursery. In the background Herb Alpert was singing "This Guy's In Love with You."
. . . Within my stomach is a slowly rotating Roto-Rooter of sickening terror or horror. Possibly depression moved from my imagining to take residence within my body. . . .
First Bullet: As a child I was overweight ostensibly my hospital visit was to discern why. Now remembering other times. The sickening smell of either when my tonsils were removed and the endurance I experienced alone in a sea of other cribs abandoned by humans in the dark of night awoken. . . . From what I cannot now remember. Possibly dreams of peace confronting the reality of my circumstance.
Second Bullet: My daughter was the first child to die. I witnessed her birth and the donut of open nerve endings on her back . . . I turned away looking down the dark corridor and silently screamed; a reprise of my mental state while being beaten, kicked, and treated as a despicable thing something loathsome.
The custodial terminal care facility was six months later when her condition proved hopeless. She was abandoned in order that her brother might live a normal life by myself; influenced by doctors and wife.
A guilt I've hidden from all accept M. For years I held an atavistic imaging of holding Johanna in my arms both of us naked in winter for her to die from exposure. Now I remember mother telling me of Inuit people doing the same with their elderly, leaving them for the Polar Bears to eat. Details: being the elderly could no longer chew their food and would otherwise starve to death. . . .believe me, when I now conclude, to be eaten is better than starving to death.
Mindfulness is a process that I formerly described to myself as 'deconstruction' of my daily events. The wisdom of the Orient speaks simply whereas our wisdom book is complex. Yet as suggested in The Bible I seek wisdom above all things. Life is simple. We are born, we live and then die. Our lives are complicated by the knowledge that we will die. The more I communicate with others, the more I recognize those whose preoccupation is a dance of avoidance and those who embrace the precious moments we live fully.
For myself I have no fear of death yet for others I sense theirs and respond with the primary greeting: "I see you" Without going into my sense of their emotional state/estate; of course.
State being momentary.
Estate being what they identify themselves with or by; living and dying by or for that 'truth.'
My 'estate' has no boundaries yet being human I participate in activities that define the state/estate of others institutionally; church, state, or smaller organizations that I may be of service to until it is time to move on.
A death of sorts -- but not really. The deaths of my children formed me to the degree and extent that I write for those of us caught in transition between the known and unknown.
Third Bullet: Yesterday was a good day initially. I experienced an improvement in my writing and published three posts. Then everything went to "hell" in a hand basket. Complex and various elements I detail now but not fully since as a 'writer' or 'photographer' I am compelled to narrate the significant from the insignificant details. And of what service I might be to you who consume the events thus far.
I am convicted of my choice to remove myself from hospice service for the inconvenience of patients and the convenience of the organization that serves them. I returned a project previously engaged in and I had tarried doing so for longer than I anticipated divided between completion and abandonment of both the project and 'my' patients.
Apprehending my transitory state between one known and the unknown, or unknowable, I am moving forward.
Adapt, improvise and prevail.
I have failed many times yet arose and moved forward accepting the truth of the unknown; humbled not humiliated. It is still surprising to me that there seems a "game plan" derived from a source more powerful than I impelling me to a position of understanding. For myself and for you.
Think cosmically -- act locally.
Looking at my dream, at this point, it seems now, two adversaries attempting to identify each other. I tend to name my "Higher Power" as God and know God unknowable in reality; or as envisioned. Yet my part of the equation is known to be welcoming and one of love; a choice. My trust of God is explicit yet my self trust was, until this moment, ambivalent and indecisive.
My intention, possibly 'motive,' is to sell you what you believe you own. My thesis and experience is that I 'owned' my self partially and now whole. Were I interested in selling you a product that I have, I would say that you must believe what I say and thus find belief/faith in yourself & God. Times have changed and the latter no longer works for me. I am too conscious of all other major religions and their values. Both to myself and those who began them.
If you ask for help in the sanctuary of your heart, mind and Self/Soul; it will be given to you; as to me. I anticipate that you will become reverent and compassionate towards others in need as well as towards yourself . . . to love your family/neighbor as your self does not work if you don't actually love and have compassion towards your Self. . . .The same is equally true of: ". . Love your Enemy . . "
Closing thoughts: Prayer works. Neither M nor I have ever been able to meditate but pray we do; for all of mankind. Mediation works if you need to wade through -- Buddhist term "monkey mind" to reach the core of your being. In conclusion I will use myself as example I prayed as a child and now. The difference is that prayer has also become "Mindfulness."
--Bruno Bettelheim
“The last, if not the greatest, of the human freedoms: to choose their own attitude in any given circumstance.”
--Brother Lawrence
(c. 1614 - 1691-02-12) was a lay brother in a Carmelite monastery. Today he is most commonly remembered for the closeness of his relationship to God as recorded in the classic Christian text, The Practice of the Presence of God.
"A little lifting of the heart suffices; a little remembrance of God, one act of inward worship are prayers which, however short, are nevertheless acceptable to God."
“Believe me, count it as lost each day you have not used in loving God.”
“The greater perfection a soul aspires after, the more dependent it is upon Divine Grace.”
"You need not cry very loud; he is nearer to us than we think."
120921 01:23 dreams
© 2012 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
No comments:
Post a Comment