I am thankful there is more to life than my flawed human eyes can see.
Dreams are thoughts you didn’t have time to think about during the day.
My dreams have been unusually vivid lately—full of color and sound, strange and derivative, a compilation of memories and random bits of information and events. There have been recurring themes, patterns, and people.
While going through my morning routine the last few days, I noticed that a number of troubling questions and past events kept popping up. Each day, I pushed them aside, thinking, I will deal with it later.
Of course, later rarely comes, so I wonder if much of the processing that should happen while I am awake is happening while I sleep.
If I look really closely, I can see there is a correlation between my dreams and those deep questions with which I have had little time to grapple.
I am not into dream analysis, that is, looking for symbols in dreams and attaching meaning to them, but I do believe dreams can be revelatory. I believe God speaks to us in different ways, and dreams are one of those ways. I also believe dreams often reveal what is buried in our subconscious and can compel us to pay attention and maybe act.
So–I’m thinking about starting a dream journal, a place that I can record the bits and pieces of my dreams I remember and see if I can make some sense of them or if I can tease out those things that Spirit and my subconscious are trying to tell me. I’d like to see what shows up.
I’ve never “dream journaled” before, but I imagine it is telling experience.
What about you? Have you ever kept a dream journal?
Love Noters are an amazing group of people. They’re certainly my kind of people–artists and dreamers who love music, books, nature, paper, and ink. Thanks to my growing group of letter sisters, I have enough art to fill an art gallery and keep my heart full.
Today’s post features the abstracts created by Karen B, my partner for Love Notes 31, and “Dreams,” a short poem by Langston Hughes.
Karen’s art is beautifully understated with a bit of whimsy and seriousness at once. I’ve paired her work with Langston Hughes’s “Dream” because, like his, her work seems effortless but holds a world of complexity.
Until next time, hold fast to your dreams…
National Poetry Month is nearing an end and as I fretted [earlier today] over which poems I should share for the remaining three posts, I realized I haven’t shared a love poem. Gasp!
Love poems are tricky. There are many, many absolutely beautiful love poems, but I have a tendency to steer clear of poems that overly romanticize love and ignore its complexity. If I am to enjoy the poem, the writer has to avoid cliche but still evoke some feeling and truth with which readers [or listeners] can identify.
I first heard the poem I’m sharing today as “Nina’s Song”–recited by Nia Long in the film Love Jones. The poem is actually the work of Louisiana’s first African American Poet Laureate, Pinkie Gordon Lane (1923-2008). Her skillful use of imagery–light, sound, color–to capture the subtle nuances of love is astounding.
I Am Looking at Music
Pinkie Gordon Lane
It is the color of light,
the shape of sound
high in the evergreens.
It lies suspended in hills,
a blue line in a red
I am looking at sound.
I am hearing the brightness
Of high bluffs and almond
trees. I am
tasting the wilderness of lakes,
rivers, and streams
caught in an angle
I am remembering water
that glows in the dawn,
and motion tumbled
in earth, life hidden in mounds.
I am dancing a bright
beam of light.
I am remembering love.
About the image: The image above is one of my own pieces. I crafted the original last summer with “leftover” paint. All the colors seem to pair well with Lane’s poem, so I’m sharing it today.
As my artist’s statement explains, my work is utterly incomprehensible and is therefore full of deep significance. –Calvin, Calvin and Hobbes, Bill Watterson
I spent most of today sitting at my window in silence, untangling thoughts, and fighting icky feelings that were trying to take root. I needed to press pause on my ruminations, so–inspired by my many artist pals–I decided to pull out my long-neglected paint and brushes and make a mess.
Three postcard-sized pieces of “art” later, the ickiness kicked rocks. The works have two things in common–purple as a base color and “lack o’ skill.” I’m sharing them with you anyway because creating a masterpiece was not the point. Besides, my two biggest fans–my guys–like them and they encouraged me to post here on the blog.
Art is certainly not my forte, but I like Calvin’s artist statement [above], so I’ll claim it as my own. 🙂 Perhaps, I’ll add words [and/or photos] and send them out into the world.
If you’re feeling a bit out of sorts, pull out your paint or markers and make a mess. It’s amazing how order is restored through the creative chaos. It’s this reality that most likely prompted someone to substitute art for the word “music” in Berthold Auerbach’s quote and attribute it to Pablo Picasso:
Music “[Art] washes from the soul the dust of everyday life.”
Be sure to make a healthy mess this week!
As I was scrolling through my camera roll for a tree for today’s post, I paused on the image above. It is not great tree work, but I like it because it reminds me of my penfriend Beckra’s photography and it reflects my mood the last couple of weeks–not quite clear about what that mood is, but it is.
I captured the reflection of trees on a pond last summer at a park near our home. I’ve been having a strong urge to get to the park and walk the trail, but the cold temperatures have kept me away. Maybe, I’ll bundle up and brave the temperatures tomorrow. The water and trees are calling me. They know I need them.
I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.
Life is too busy! I’ve shortened my to-do list, turned down invitations, postponed some of my activities, extended deadlines–still there are not enough hours in the day. The weekend seems far too short to make an impact on “all that must be done,” and I find myself moving from one task to another and unable to relax.
As I was looking through my “yet to be blogged” tower of mail, I ran across two of my penfriend Rebecca’s (Beckra’s) photos. Something about the photos urged me to take some time to wind down and relax.
Beckra shot the photo above in Pennsylvania while visiting her mother. Although the weather was rainy, she managed to capture some cow parsley reflected in the lake of her hometown.
She shot this one on a Sunday morning while kayaking under the trees, giving herself “a chance to breathe.”
I always enjoy Beckra’s abstract photos. She has a talent for capturing water in the most intriguing ways. You can see more of her abstract water photos in earlier blog posts: Water, Light, and Fairies and Getting Through the CraZieS, part i.
Water has a calming effect on me. When we lived in New Orleans, the Mississippi River was always right there, its muddy waves available to wash away the strain and stress. Since I no longer live “right down the street” from a river, Beckra’s photos suffice, inviting me to take a moment to enjoy the water and breathe.