It’s dark out still. The sun hasn’t even begun to hint about coming up. Helicopters flew over, a couple at least, low and loud, something which isn’t entirely uncommon.
I woke up early this morning, thinking I would be better off today doing a bit of reading, a bit of writing, and a bit of praying rather than doing computery things. Weaving baskets can become too much of the focus rather than the appropriate work for the cause of stillness.
I feel that in my soul this morning, a feeling of curious hope and light, coupled with a feeling of “no, that’s not quite the right direction… make a left here.”
Quite strong is my sense of self-awareness, trying to determine what path this is, and how I could provoke some more palpable activity. Again I pray, and again I feel that strong sense of “Wait”. For what? This I don’t know, only I do know this is the same sort of sense which has said other things, at other times, to myself and others, which has proven to be a right course. So it bothers me. Yeah, it bothers me. But, there is only to wait on God as Saul did not wait for Samuel, knowing that “too late” is only characterized by my sense of impatience rather than God’s timing.
I also woke up quite thirsty and finished off a large glass of water as almost my first task. Water, to me, is a spiritual symbol and a spiritual tool. I wonder how much “spiritual” worry in this world has to do with simple dehydration. So I always take it into account. I also take into account the dream I had as I was waking up. I know people who dream, I respect people who dream. Part of my “Joseph complex” is my interest in figuring out what dreams mean for people, and I think I might actually have some sort of insight there, but that’s besides the point
My dream likely was longer than what I remember. I dream, but I don’t have the gift of such, because my dreams tend to be either boring or nonsensical. Some people really have visions of sorts. I can say with some confidence my dreams are all about my brain doing system scans and reorganizing files. Some people touch the spiritual world while they sleep, my mind tunes itself and has very little to say for the most part.
Sometimes some message does creep by, like some emergency news breaking into daytime television. I don’t get the sense this dream is that sort, but as I do remember it, unlike most of what passes through, I might as well note it. It’s simple.
I dreamed my dog was barking. So I went downstairs to check. My dog is trustworthy on these things, and generally barks at something, so it’s worth finding out. I couldn’t see anything when I looked outside, but my dog kept barking. For whatever reason I hit the window to stir whatever it was I couldn’t see. From under the deck a coyote came trotting, carrying a chipmunk in its mouth. It wandered away, looking up at me as it went. I felt bad for the chipmunk.
That was my dream as I was waking up at just about 4 in the morning with a slight headache and quite thirsty. There you go.
I suppose I have other thoughts bouncing around this morning, relating to our perception of the Spiritual life and how we communicate such and how we dwell in such with curious trends supporting different conceptions, with a positive perspective popular in some circles and a negative perspective popular in another. Some seem they can never get past the happy, smiley phase, and others seems stuck in the swearing, God is confusing, I doubt but I stick with it for reasons beyond me phase. I find both trends to be somewhat frustrating and while I might tend towards the latter in my present existence, I don’t think this is healthy nor right.
These, however, might be thoughts better for an evening post, and leaving it unsaid gives me a wee bit of incentive to get to that evening post.
I again wonder about how the simple act of writing renews my soul, as it just did right now. All is well when I put words in some order. I need to keep this in mind, and keep at it. I think somehow the Spirit is there. It’s not the profundity of the words, which isn’t for me to judge. It’s the tapping into something, the searching and discovering, the bypassing the gates, and somehow entering into a taste of the divine. That’s why I write, because it fills the soul. For what reason beyond that is not currently within my ability to answer. Things not currently within my ability to answer makes for a long list… but that’s what keeps living this life fun. It’s a constant gamble and a constant exploration. If we so make it, and if we avoid the coyotes.