And who knows what flows ’round the next bend?
I’m quieted by life’s twists and turns here lately. My dear friend asked me tonight, “What are your dreams, Ruth? I don’t think I’ve ever asked you that before…” To see the world, to have a garden so lush there’s no spot left bare or without color alive, to finish at least one of the books I’m working on (writing), to start that blog I’ve contemplated for a while, to complete my latest pointillist piece and begin 200 more, to finish my education and grow the community I feel thriving in my womb, to … to … to … there are too many to list here.
Dreams are essential for some of us. They keeps us percolating, reaching beyond the moment as we settle down into eternal now, settle in ways not destructive of beingness but in ways affirming, resonating with a creator spirit, reaching for the sky as we sink roots deeply or flow more intently along the path. Lakes thriving, rivers sparkling have the reach, the grasp beyond as they are encompassed in the cycles of their ecological systems. Their waters are stirred, evaporate and brought back to them by the earth, the sky. It’s lovely to imagine they dream of beyond, responding to the heat of sun in a surrender for the heights, for the fall back down to earth fertile.
Perhaps this is what we do when we dream. Perhaps we are like these lakes, streams. Whether our dreams find the fulfillment we envision, or whether they simply inspire us to keep responding to life’s most vivid dawns and restful dusks, dreams stir the microcosms of our worlds and keep us in flow, in perpetual response to the preciousness of all life.
Strength to us and our dreams. Here’s to more inspiration, to more rest and to the sweetest resonances beyond the moment. And within. We are nothing if not residing in the both/and as a lake rests and reaches all in one silent, still slice of eternal time.