IРІР‚в„ўm a confirmed introvert, almost off the scale. Silence, the abject beauty of the night sky, the words of a poem, the stroke of my paintbrush, and the quiet feeling comes that something is now different or renewed. ItРІР‚в„ўs only when I retreat into my inner world that IРІР‚в„ўm ushered through another threshold by whatever means arrive. The times that IРІР‚в„ўve experienced major spiritual breakthroughs are rarely when IРІР‚в„ўm with others, although the circumstances and interactions certainly may orchestrate the launch pad. ItРІР‚в„ўs that biological response of the amygdala mistakenly recognizing opportunity for threat.

When any of us are at a threshold of spiritual passage, our internal and external worlds collude and collide somehow in an attempt to maintain the status quo or even regress us. IРІР‚в„ўve sensed for a time that some kind of personal evolution is on the horizon-potentially a revolution. I remembered the second dreamРІР‚В¦and what I call my council that has been with me for as long as I can remember. I remembered the first dream from a couple of months ago.Р”Р„nd he mentioned inviting in invisible help. I feel you always meet a new you in the form of a stranger, and to meet that stranger you have to spend time alone. One of the nourishing things of being alone again is who this stranger is inside you. When he said thisРІР‚В¦I backed up the recording to hear it a few times more then wrote it downРІР‚В¦ Listening to David Whyte always puts me into an altered state. I was listening to it as I worked on one of my mixed media sculptures that had been languishing for months. Then within a day, I somehow stumbled upon an interview of poet David Whyte, part of Julia BainbridgeРІР‚в„ўs mini-series on inner lives on her podcast The Lonely Hour. I decided it was a minor miracle, and the Universe had a hand in it. I blinked my eyes and thought, Oh no, what have I forgotten to mark down. Last week I flipped the calendar page and discovered I had an entire ten days with absolutely nothing scheduled with the exception of a massage a few days away. Then came two gifts in quick succession, not unlike the dreams. Additionally, the nature of my work and family health was calling for ongoing attentiveness, sometimes venturing into places I hadnРІР‚в„ўt psychically visited, in the process generating much more than normal (for me) travel.

Never mind I had become more and more susceptible to the chaotic, tragic happenings in the world-especially in my home country-increasingly dealing with a sense of helplessness, anger and sadnessРІР‚В¦consistent perforations to my soul. The last eighteen months for me have been quite intense. This one was so real that, when I awoke, I continued lying in bed for some time searching to see where in my material reality it was true, and came up with nothing.

I was in a celibate marriage of sorts but couldnРІР‚в„ўt see my partner. This one was quick, maybe a fragment of a longer dream. I faced myself in a mirror and didnРІР‚в„ўt know who she was. A signal to pay attention, but its explication not quite straightforward. Rarely literal, they present as a metaphor-realized after the fact-alerting me to shifting sands. My remembrance of any dream is a significant outcome in itself. Second, that they came within a few nights of each other. First, meaning it was curious for me to even remember a dream. A couple of months ago I had two curious dreams in quick succession.

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