Tag: dreams

Breakdown & Breakthrough: All in a day’s work

Today’s stuff was intense and deep and wonderful.  Rather than explain and describe everything, I turn to selections from the Facebook Messenger conversation I had with my cousin.  As a note that you can understand afterward, I have seven large trash bags crammed in my trunk right now, ready to be donated tomorrow, plus a bag of specifics for my cousin.  I went through two bags of trash – and no, I genuinely do not understand what trash is in the bags for the most part, nor from where it all came, seeing as how I was going through clothing only today…  Anyway, there was hesitation and uncertainty at the start, then paralyzing panic, followed by red-eyed determination, and then finally comfortable relaxation and ease.

At one point, after probably five (of the eventual 8) bags had been moved to the trunk, I opened up my guitar.  I had to cut off the plastic ties that were still around the case from having brought it here on the airplane.  I tuned it up from the extremely loose state in which the strings had been for months, played a song, and then just played around for a few minutes.  All-in-all, it wasn’t even 15 minutes spent with the guitar, but it was blissful, and I was filled with delight by the end of it.  It may seem like little, but having done this specifically speaks volumes about how effective today was – I hadn’t even considered pulling out the guitar until today.  The guitar is enjoyment and relaxation and fun.  Those haven’t really been an option in my life lately.

Anyway, find the selections here, below, and have a wonderful day.  đŸ™‚

………………………………………………………..

Hannah Any chance you read my weblog from last night?
I feel stuck
Cousin i have not
Hannah And I’d like your opinion
Cousin I will add that to my list of goals for today
Hannah I guess, essentially, I have planned to do my clothes today, KonMari style
But I feel like I can’t relate to joy sparking feeling
It’s like, because I have so much stuff, it all just stresses me out a little bit
And I feel kind of guilty at having it all in the first place
Maybe not guilt, but something… almost like shame
Cousin I went ahead and read the what you wrote
I hear you. I feel that way every time I move. Which is a lot of times.
Hannah Ha
Cousin I wonder what that ‘shame’ feeling is attached to. Is it a ‘supposed to’?
I’m not ‘supposed to’ have this much stuff?
Hannah Perhaps
I think so
Like that I was wasteful in getting things I don’t love in the first place
Cousin that was a different kind of joy at the time though
Hannah It’s currently just a big sense of stress
No specifics to it
Cousin specifically talking about the clothes right now. it sounds like you’re not being able to relate to confront them on a one on one level because you’re dealing with them as a whole emotionally.
Hannah Like I mentioned, my main issue right now is that I can’t get that spark joy feeling
Yeah, I think so
Cousin And you know there is no benefit to bringing the baggage of what you “should or should not” have done with any of these things.
That baggage is just more clutter
Even if the purchases you made turned out not to bring a usefulness and sustaining joy, there was at least a small amount of freedom and joy in obtaining them when you did. Otherwise you wouldn’t have done it.
That is all past now. You have grown. You have learned. You did good. Gold starts all around.
Now we get the excitement of meeting this new phase in your life. You get to make all these creative choices again with things you already own.
Like editing the draft of a novel.
And you don’t have to worry about making the wrong decision. Because your life si so abundant.
You may never find those plates from college. That sucks.
But. You didn’t know those plates would bring you joy before you found them.
ANd that may happen again with new plates.
Hannah Yeah
M– has always said that ‘If it isn’t a definite YES!, then it’s definitely a no’
[…]
Cousin The ‘definite yes’ thing can be useful, but it can also be a lot of pressure to put on yourself
[…]
Cousin especially because of where you are in your life.
It’s easier to know ‘definite yes’ when you’ve been living with the same stuff in the same place for several years
it’s harder when you’re in flux
there is an episode of gilmore girls actually that deals with that in the last season.
Hannah Ha
Hannah Remember that time I got rid of the multiple black trash bags of clothes?
At the two-Story apartment
Cousin yes
Hannah I did this activity then
It was just the clothes I had at that apartment, but still
It worked great
And I was so happy with it all
Now I finally have everything in one place
I want to do the activity again
I think I’m getting overwhelmed with the fact that there’s just so much sh*t everywhere in my room, in the house, and in my life
And I’m somewhat scared of what life will be when I let go of it all
Slash terrified
Cousin well, I know what you need then
some Tina Turner
Your montage moment is waiting for you whenever you are ready to have it
(and it’s okay not to be ready yet. You can also be scared of it and choose to be a cat instead until you’re ready.)

……………………………………………….

Hannah I just put the second item into the give-away bag, and I’ve started deep crying
It’s like I can see what’s going on for me, but I can’t seem to do anything about it
Because it isn’t just letting go – it is intentionally clearing the space
So much of what I have is out of necessity
That’s why I got a lot of it
Also, not really knowing who I want to be right now makes this tough
My current lifestyle leans toward making me feel useless in life
Cousin That’s why I was serious about my last suggestions. You’ve done your logic homework. This is body primal stuff.
Hannah It’s terrifying to let go of the safety that I’ve known
A lot of my clothes are representative of the safety I’ve had in my life
Mostly financially, but also mentally and all
Cousin Absolutely. This actually reminds me a little bit of when you shaved your head
Hannah Really?
I had no struggle with making that move
Haha
Cousin Conversations we had after the fact I mean
About how you had to find different ways to express your femininity
Hannah About having to deal with people seeing me so differently, and having to examine how I wanted to present myself?
Yeah
Cousin Exactly
Hannah It’s like I’m scared to show a grown-up, feminine me here
In Japan, I was okay with it
Cousin New slate, new rules
Hannah There were multiple occasions where I just stared st myself, ‘cause I envied the woman I was in that moment and outfit and everything
And here, I feel like I’m allowed to be a kid and/or tomboy
Only
Cousin Another identity to contend with
Hannah
Cousin Grl, YES
This is very much an Artist’s Way date
Hannah Haha
[…]

Hannah With quick folding, most of it went into my dresser, and the rest in one laundry basket!
Hannah I also started noticing differences in feelings as I was folding them up. It were as though, now that I have so much less, I could see suddenly all these individual emotions that were difficult to see before. Before, it was a simple ‘good feeling’ versus ‘not good feeling’ with each item. Now that all the ‘not good feeling’ items are out of the picture, I’m seeing what the different subcategories, if you will, of ‘good feeling’ are.

…………………………………………………………………………..

P.S.  Sonntag means Sunday.  It’s German.  đŸ˜‰

Post-a-day 2018

Bedtime perfection

Tonight, sitting in a chair that traditionally belongs in an office, at a desk, and not in a living room with a blanket on it, I paused in my book reading to focus on the music that surrounded me.  My cousin was playing at the piano.  He had gone through many pieces throughout the evening, and even in his current sitting.  I had last paid close attention when he switched to “FĂźr Elise” – not that I have anything against it, but I’ve heard it so many times, that I don’t often enjoy focusing on it anymore… plus, I was sitting in this same room as this same cousin learned to play this piece over a decade ago; I wasn’t in a mood to listen to him figure it out all over again.

But the current piece, now it was something different.  It struck me as perfection in the moment.  I was in a dimmed room, wearing my pajamas, reading while sitting in a comfortable chair, listening to perfect, full, live piano music.  It was as though I were in a novel of Jane Austen’s, or something quite similar (only we don’t marry our first cousins these days, and I think they did back then…).

Once I had paused to take note of the piece, I couldn’t go back to my book; I had to sit and enjoy the piece fully.  It was perfection in a scenario and in the music for that sort of moment.  I felt filled with the understanding that anything is possible in my life, and comfortable with all that had happened in my day, as though this were a perfect completion and letting go of it all.

And then, I couldn’t help but document it somehow – this is how I want my life to be.  This is the bedtime scenario I want more than once in a blue moon.  Man, where are you?  Or, at least, housemate, where are you?  Come to me soon, please, and stay with me.  I want this in my regular life.  God, ready me as I need to be ready to have this in my (at least) weekly life, please.

Tonight was magic turned reality, and I loved it.  I hope to dream this just-created, extended piano version of “La la lu” tonight.

The Brief Documentation

Music is magic, when used properly.  Remember that.

Post-a-day 2018

Dreams disregarded

Have you ever been reminded of a sort of dream you once had, and then wondered if it might still be a dream of yours?  Tonight, participating in something I haven’t done in a while, and in a slightly new way, I was reminded briefly of a dream I once had relating to it all.  I wanted it so badly, it hurt not pursuing it back then… and I pursued it somewhat, when finances allowed for it.  But, eventually, something happened, and I stepped away.  Ever since then, I’ve been kind of tentative being involved at all…, yet I saw tonight that that dream might still be within me.  And something has me terrified of it in a bad way, while part of me feels entirely comfortable and at ease with it, kind of like a, ‘Well, of course I’ll do that.  Easy.’

My stomach is quaky with caffeine right now, unfortunately, so I’ll have to see how I feel in the morning and tomorrow.  Is the quaking just the caffeine, or is it more?  (I’ve got my fingers crossed (and terrified about it) for it being just the caffeine.)  We’ll see.  Perhaps I won’t even remember it tomorrow.  That might be the determining factor, actually.  I really might not remember tomorrow, it is of so little real importance to me, this disregarded dream I once had.

Post-a-day 2018

Full Moon Dreams

Today was the first day of the year.  Tonight was the closest the full moon will be to us all year – it is called a Super Moon, and this one in particular, as I understand it, is called the Wolf Moon.

Occasionally, we do collages – my mom and I, and sometimes others in our family – with the full moon, following the theme of the specific full moon.  They are specifically dream boards, done in collage style, using magazines that my mom pulls out from somewhere.  Tonight’s full moon, the Wolf Moon, brought with it the question, “What are you hungry for?” for the dream board making.

We went out and looked at the full, bright moon at 20:24, while it was at its fullest here, and admired its brightness, shining directly through the clouds.  We even – well, I did, anyway – got a brief view of it without all of the clouds, through one of those occasional holes that do appear in the screen of clouds that sometimes occur at night.

When we came back inside a minute or two later (it is darn cold out tonight), we began our boards.  My mom’s and my own always look drastically different from one another, yet someone tied.  Even through our artwork, one could tell that we are mother and daughter – entirely different people who share so much, one could never list it all.

As I made my dream board, I kept saying in my head, “I am hungry for…”  Over and over again, I said it as I flipped through the unsatisfactory pages of the magazines.  This is one of the funny, read “odd”, things about these dream boards: It always feels like nothing will be quite right, and yet the board turns out somehow perfect-feeling in the end every time.  The trick is just to flip through, almost passively, and just notice what is on the pages, while keeping in mind what the topic of the search is.  In doing that, things will just pop out, and, when they do, I pull out the page, set it aside, and continue flipping, almost without pause in the flow of the flipping.  At the end, I kept feeling that I needed space.  I hadn’t found anything that really fit it.  I flipped through the last magazine and found a large, white sofa.  It had space.  So I went with it.

Putting it all together was intended by my mother to be on this piece of cardboard she’d taken from a cookie box I’d just recycled today.  However, I almost never do that, because what I pull out for my dream board never fits on the cardboard.  I did put the collage together on the cardboard, though; it was the support for pressing the pages together as I glued them in place (which was because the carpet gave in too much).  My mom laughed when I mentioned that afterward.  How I put it together was almost exactly as I’d unconsciously laid it out on the floor while tearing the chosen parts out of the pages I’d set to the side.  It was just kind of almost finished already for me.  It almost always is.

So, I looked at it all to take it in before gluing.  Yes, space was still not properly represented.  I knew exactly what page I wanted.  I found it quickly, tore out the whole thing, and then discovered that I wanted to use the whole thing.  I easily stuck together everything rather quickly, and then my board was completed.  Though, the glue was really crappy, and that made it kind of odd, mashing the stick glue onto the magazine pages as the stick bent oddly one way or another.

Anyway, I was happy with my dream board when I finished gluing.  I always make it a point to put it somewhere that I will see it easily and often (and hopefully in a good mood), and this one is no different in that sense.  It rides on my wall in my bedroom, next to my door, in a spot that I couldn’t miss it, even if I tried.  And it is lovely.

Happy Wolf Moon, everyone.  For what dreams are you hungry?

IMG_2401

Post-a-day 2018  (The first one, anyway)

Nighttime Window

I open my window at night… late, late at night, when I am awakened to heat by the sounds of someone climbing the stairs to go to bed in the middle of the night, though I never know it at the time, and neither does the stair-climber.  My room is hot, too hot for comfort, especially in the middle of winter, even though it is Houston.  I crawl to the edge and climb out of my bed, down to my shoes, and stumble to the bathroom to relieve my suddenly compressed bladder.  When I return, the heat hits me like a physical wall of warm fabric floating just inside my doorway.  I stumble back to my bed, letting my shoes fall as I climb into it.  I sit for a moment, considering…  The lights are off, so it is all right.

I lean forward on my hands and knees, and I slide open the large window a few inches, before sitting back and relaxing, waiting for the cool air to stream firmly into my room.  I always consider going to sleep with the window left open.  I always close it after only a minute or few, so that I may go back to sleep, at ease.  I want the cooling air, but nothing else is welcome.  In Houston, many a thing might aim to make itself welcome through an open window at night.  And I really don’t want to wake to a rat diving between a stack of boxes.  I want to keep this room clean, please.  And so, I shut the window every time, even though I’m never quite cooled off enough for good rest.  Each night, I silently wish for a screen for the window, while disregarding the wish, because I wasn’t to see the world clearly through the window, whether closed or open, just free of screening… so it cannot be.

So, I open my window at night, out of practical reasons, but silently wish to experience the magic I feel is waiting just outside, waiting in that cool, crisp, winter wonder air.

Post-a-day 2017

My very own “Pretty Woman” scene

You know the iconic shopping scene in “Pretty Woman”, where Julia Roberts tries on loads of fabulous outfits, and it just plain looks like a photo shoot?  Right, well, if you don’t, I suggest you get on that cultural tidbit, because it’s fabulous.  Anyway, so I remember a Cameron Diaz film having a sort of spoof on the scene, and, though I was somewhat unimpressed by the scene, I noticed a sense of something nigh to jealousy… envy with a little something more.  I want to do what they were doing.  I want to have my own BFF fake photo shoot at the clothing store, trying on amazing outfits, my subconscious cried.

And I’ve always remembered that, though I’ve never remember to do anything about the silent wish I’d had that day.  Tonight, as I was thinking of this one particular store where my family has shopped occasionally for most of my life, – it’s a discount outlet-type high-end clothing etc. store – I recalled a particular jacket that my cousin and I loved.  And then I remembered how we had both put one on in the store, and taken photos together. And then, like a rush of memory, I recalled a whoosh of different pieces we all had tried on together, and the loads of photos we took.  We had done our own “Pretty Woman” clothing store photo shoot, and I hadn’t even noticed.  Why?  Because we were just being ourselves.  We were attempting to recreate something we’d seen elsewhere.  We were just doing our own thing, being silly and fancy with high-end discount clothing etc. and having a wonderful time.

How cool is that?  I had hoped one day to copy the scene in my real life, but knew that it would be always that: a copy.  Instead, I got the real deal, and we had an actual spontaneous in-shop clothing photo shoot together.  Wicked.  I love life.  And family.  Especially family.

Post-a-day 2017

Missing…

I miss my bed in Japan. My bedroom, especially, is one thing I miss most these days. It was a haven for me. No matter what kind of chaos or boredom lurked in my life, every night, my bedroom awaited me in calm, open, and empty space… in beauty. I shut my doors, and was safe in my retreat from everything else. Only love and blessings were ever allowed into my bedroom. I wasn’t even allowed to walk in it if I hadn’t recently showered. Clean clothes, my ukulele and ukulele music, my nighttime books, and water and tissues were just about all that ever went in there, aside from a clean me and my bed.

My bedroom now is slightly larger, but filled with boxes and stuff… a sentimentality to which I am not so sure I still want to cling. I think I am afraid that I will forget the memories, if I get rid of the objects. I do not, for the most part, want the objects, but the memories and the ways I felt. Without the objects, what will remind me?

Post-a-day 2017

My life/books

I sometimes worry that I read to escape my life.  This is not to say that I find a need to escape my life, but merely that I grow a sort of addiction to a good book, because the story within the book is so much better than my own.  I long for the life I see in the story, and so throw myself into it as much and as often as possible… thereby stepping away from my own life for a good chunk of time, temporary though it is.

Unlike Kathleen Kelly in “You’ve Got Mail”, I do not find interesting things happening in books versus in my own life – I do find myself doing amazing and interesting things that I almost never have read in books.  However, similar to her, I long for something that I find in these books.  I long for the outside influences of people who love one another – I want to be loved like true love in a story.  I have faith in myself for a successful, beautiful story of accomplishments… I am not so sure about others taking up their roles within my own story…  Perhaps this isn’t really making sense… I’ll retire for the night.  I’m stilted, putting these inward emotions into outward words, and I’m not liking the result so far.  Hmm…

Post-a-day 2017

Oh, to be a lion…

I love “The Lion King”.  And I mean this not as the average, casual use of the word love.  I mean it in a deep down, somewhere inside of me is pulled by it kind of love.  Toward my core, that is why my love for “The Lion King” resides.  And it draws me.

For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be part of that circle of life, as presented in “The Lion King”.  Certainly, I want to be a living part of it, but I want to be over there, actually in it, as opposed to over here, living in the regular world full of buildings and suits and such.  I want to live with the lions in Africa.  I want to be one of them, an honorary member, so to speak.  Sure, our diets don’t exactly line up with one another, but that would be part of the beautiful balance of it all.  I would love them, they would love me, and no one would be stealing anyone else’s food.  Perfect.

Anyway, I realize how silly or odd this might sound.  I get it.  That in no way changes the desire I have to be part of whatever that magical world is that is presented in “The Lion King”, both the film and the stage musical.  Perhaps it is that beautiful balance of power and majesty, combined with belonging, love, purpose, and community.  Whatever the case, I have daydreamt of being with the lions for decades, and am still working on how to make something like that happen.

Roar.

Post-a-day 2017

Family and music

I love my family.  And I miss getting to spend time with them.  I had somewhat forgotten the existence of one of my cousins, because I hadn’t actually seen him in so long.  I knew he existed, of course, but it was as though I had accepted that it wasn’t ever an option to see him.  And so, it was a wonderful surprise – though I knew in my head that he would be here ahead of time – actually seeing him and spending time with him tonight.

One of the things I love about spending time with him is his musical gift.  He can be given any instrument, and, whether he has ever played it before or not, can be playing lovely music on it within a maximum of a few minutes.  We always end up humming and whistling and singing beautiful music together, whether we have an instrument or not (though we often have at least a guitar).

Tonight was no different.  He pulled out one of my favorite songs, and early on in the visit.  Oddly enough, I hadn’t listened to or sung/played the song in years, and so it was a fun surprise.  I had to look up the words, because it had been so long, but it was too good of a song not to get all the words right (“White Man” by Michael Gungor Band).

As he fiddled around on the guitar, my mom and I sat with him on the porch, listening to him play, and working on our puzzle/mystery boxes we were creating for his brother’s wedding reception this weekend.  The kind of music he was playing reminded me of why I ever wanted to learn to play guitar in the first place.  I want to play John Denver and Jim Croce music, and other things similar in style.  It has always been my long-term, distant future goal, since it really isn’t the easiest music, but there are plenty of things I can learn as stepping stones (and I have learned a good bit of them).  I just don’t play when I don’t have the company of someone else’s music.  

When I am with my cousin, we almost always take the time to sit down and teach me something new and, of course, beautiful to play.  Now that we are back living in the same country, we might actually be able to set up semi-regular music meet-ups for the two of us.  We’ll see.

Gosh, I love my cousin.

Post-a-day 2017