The Reluctant Dreamer

She said she never remembered her dreams. She said she felt intimidated about working with dreams because everyone else has epic dreams with many scenes and incredible characters and she doesn't have those kinds of dreams.

I asked her if she could remember anything at all from the last few weeks. She paused. "No," she said. "Nothing." Pause.

"Although I do have a theme."

A theme? How was that possible if she hadn't remembered any dreams at all?

"Well," she said, "the theme is houses."

Aha! We were on to something here. I asked her if she remembered any of the houses.

"Not really. I mean, there was one house, a beautiful Victorian." And then she described an amazing house in full detail. I could picture it in my mind, she described it so well. I knew this was my chance.

I asked her if she would be willing to work that dream.

"Dream? That isn't a dream, it's just one image."

I told her even one image, especially one remembered in such detail, counts.

We proceeded. I asked her to become the house through a technique called gestalt, and asked her to answer questions as if she were the house. When she finished, I proposed she read the answers imagining she was reading about herself and not the house.

At first she was silent. Then she clucked her tongue, shook her head, and widened her eyes. I wasn't sure if I'd bombed or hit the nail on the head.

"Wow," she said. "That's amazing. It totally tells me about myself right now."

From there, I asked her to feel where the dream lived in her body, which led to more insights. This is why I love dreamwork. It brings us home, right to the center of ourselves, and shows us what we haven't been paying attention to.

All you need to work a dream is one image. Even if it is in black and white. Even if all you can say is that you remember an elephant. Or a pencil. Or a bush. You can tease a lot out of an image: what feeling does it evoke? What does it remind you of? Even those two questions can take you on an amazing journey of self-discovery. It doesn't have to be fancy, you don't have to know about archetypes and symbols, and you don't have to have an advanced degree in mythology. All you need is a little time, the dream image, and a mind and heart that are willing to hear what your soul wants to say.

Gratitude Sale

I have so much gratitude for those who read my blog, support my art, and make me and my work feel welcome in the world.

And so, for the rest of the year, I am having a sale to say thanks.

Details
Buy any of the following:
*two 11x14 prints from October Photography
* a one-hour aura reading
* a one-hour dreamwork session
and get another item from the list FREE.

Mix and match! Buy two fabulous gifts for two fabulous friends, or get one item for a family member and treat yourself to the other item! There are endless possibilities.

THANK YOU for all of your support this year!

Turning Leaves, Changing Priorities

I'm looking inward as the days fade to darkness sooner and the weather turns colder.

I'm seeing how I want to take better care of myself.

I'm slowly doing things differently...taking my camera out for walks more often, listening more closely to my body, grabbing the charcoal and sketch pad when my artist self calls out for them.

It's difficult. Sometimes I fight it. The old ways return: beating myself up for not accomplishing more, telling myself I'm not good enough because I don't measure up to other women I compare myself to.

Eventually I'll create new patterns, ones that are more suited to my soul. I'll ignore the critic more and embrace the artist. And it will feel so good.

What Would Happen?

At a certain point I have to stop reading all these “how-to” books and just start writing. I can feel my teeth clench against this realization. My bottom teeth put pressure on my top teeth and now my tongue is jammed up against the roof of my mouth. Keeping those words in. My face feels long, serious. My neck is tight, my arm is pressing against my side, my fingers grip my pen in order to control what is coming out. My penmanship must be perfect and so must my words. I must keep it safe, not explore any place that could harm, hurt, surprise, shock, or anger others. Keep it neat and tidy, prim and proper. Don’t show the rough edges, the darkness lurking just under the surface. That will only cause trouble and good girls don’t cause trouble. Now the pen moves on its own, the writing becomes sloppier, untamed. The penmanship is larger, more fluid, not so tight and perfect. The hand feels more open, more words can flow through. It feels a little scary to let the words run on their own. The critic wants to step in, stop everything, return to the usual order of things, but the wild artist appreciates being let out, being allowed to roam the page and shriek and shout and do cartwheels. What if I broke out of the lines? What if I just leaped wrote over here
and over there
didn’t follow any rules
at all?

What would happen?

NOTHING.

Nothing at all but the release of my soul.

Coming Full Circle

Life moves in circles and cycles. It's a simple fact, but sometimes we forget. Until something happens that shakes us out of our stupor.

This morning I opened an email from the East Bay Artists Guild. The email had an attachment, an entry form for the Guild's upcoming winter show. I remember hearing something about it several months ago, but it hadn't piqued my interest then.

When I opened the attachment, I saw the universe at work. The show is taking place at the Aspen Surgery Center, the very part of the hospital where I had my surgery this summer. I remember walking down the long hallway toward the waiting room, seeing the art on the walls, and thinking, "My photos would look good in here."

And so we come full circle. I am entering three of my photographs, including the one above, into the show. My photos will hang on those walls. I suppose I'm giving back a little beauty to the place that played a vital role in my healing.

Brave and Bold

I have moved into a much better place regarding the cyst. After I moved through the shock, fear, and anger, I came to a place where I saw the cyst as an ally, as I had before. But this time it's on a much deeper level.

I've asked it what it needs. It answered: let out your anger. Heal your trauma. Create more. Write more. Take more pictures. Be your authentic self.

It has much wisdom.

After hearing its needs, I made a commitment to establish a window of time for creating each week. This could include writing, painting, drawing, taking pictures, or coloring...anything that fuels my inner child and my passion for creating. This week I took my Lensbaby to the park and captured images of the red leaves and the November roses. I also did the final edits on a chapter I'm submitting to an anthology my professor is editing. It felt wonderful to give this to myself. But I won't leave this out: on Saturday I sat at the dining room table feeling incredible angst because I had a huge block about drawing. So I had to go to bed without fulfilling my desire to create. It's definitely a process.

That's what I've done on the spiritual/emotional side. On the physical side, I've also made some changes. Although I briefly took my doctor's advice and went on the birth control pill to hopefully shrink the cyst and stop ovulation, my body quickly protested. After eight days I stopped taking it and I feel much better, even with the pain from the cyst. I've opted instead to get acupuncture and my first appointment is next week. I also started restorative yoga sessions which I highly recommend to anyone, I signed up for dreamwork sessions with Karen Jaenke, a powerful dreamer, and I tried a somatic experiencing session, another technique I enjoyed. I want to dive right into the cause of this ailment to find out what is behind it. I know that is the only way my body will heal.

I also started working with my dreams on my own again, which is probably the best decision I made out of all of them. I came up with powerful insights I'd chosen to ignore the first time around. Let's face it: they weren't easy to admit to and now that I've acknowledged them it's going to mean more big changes in my life. But it's all in the name of healing, and that's what I've come to the table to do.

I feel brave and bold. I can handle this and come out even stronger on the other side.