"confirmation is always available, if you're looking for it" (Paracelcus)
For some reason I feel as though I should be diarising like a voyager on a doomed mission - a kind of 'ship's log'; day 31, we're running out of food. The work of keeping the engine running is keeping me from going insane but I'm so tired, even in my dreams I lie down and sleep. I don't know how much longer I can go on. If anyone finds this please tell my children I love them, that I tried....
Yeah OK, I'm overdramatising things a bit. Everything's alright. I look around me now and can see plenty to feel happy about. The house is gorgeous and scrubbed clean; a minimalist paradise (all the clutter is boxed up in the garage, which looks anything but minimalist). With the exertions - scrubbing, shifting around and boxing-up - I've toned up somewhat, so I'm feeling simplified physically too. Not to mention the 'make over' cost not a cent, so my financial fitness is increasing, as well as having avoided that 'decorated all in one day' look that so many professionally styled homes have. I've lived my axiom 'I have everything I need' to the highest this week, and proved my own resourcefulness. Yep, its pretty good.
So what if the house is officially 'on the market'? In the meantime we live in it, we're here.
Psyche, of course, has something to say about it all. In contrast to my dreams last weekend, which wanted me to wake up, snap out of it, check out of denial; last night's nocturnal images had me lying down under a table where I'd been preparing a meal with the Rigger, unable to stay awake any longer. 'Morning sickness'; I'm pregnant and need to rest. It occurs to me, in daylight, that its more like mourning sickness that points me to the floor, toward less emphasis on being on top of things. Maybe take a time out... I guess I'll dwell on it a while - things aren't always what they seem.
James Hillman writes that the soul makes intelligent statements to our conscious selves all the time. We only have to pay attention to what's being shown and then resist the urge to substitute images for their literal counterparts. What I've found, apart from that the resistance he suggests is easier said than done, is that if I allow it, the message of a dream, image or event really will be understood.
I've written about this before, anyway, so this is revision.
I don't think I can rest yet - there's a lot to be done. There are things that've been calling me - finishing up my series of articles on parenting with soul, for one. I have more to say about soul mates, about dreams and cledons and divination in general, and I've a book to write. Birds land on my back fence, asking to be part of it all - to be drawn into the scene.
The cosmic climate is strange and brilliant and more than ordinarily tricky, just the way I like it. Expect the unexpected...and dream on...
Yeah OK, I'm overdramatising things a bit. Everything's alright. I look around me now and can see plenty to feel happy about. The house is gorgeous and scrubbed clean; a minimalist paradise (all the clutter is boxed up in the garage, which looks anything but minimalist). With the exertions - scrubbing, shifting around and boxing-up - I've toned up somewhat, so I'm feeling simplified physically too. Not to mention the 'make over' cost not a cent, so my financial fitness is increasing, as well as having avoided that 'decorated all in one day' look that so many professionally styled homes have. I've lived my axiom 'I have everything I need' to the highest this week, and proved my own resourcefulness. Yep, its pretty good.
So what if the house is officially 'on the market'? In the meantime we live in it, we're here.
Psyche, of course, has something to say about it all. In contrast to my dreams last weekend, which wanted me to wake up, snap out of it, check out of denial; last night's nocturnal images had me lying down under a table where I'd been preparing a meal with the Rigger, unable to stay awake any longer. 'Morning sickness'; I'm pregnant and need to rest. It occurs to me, in daylight, that its more like mourning sickness that points me to the floor, toward less emphasis on being on top of things. Maybe take a time out... I guess I'll dwell on it a while - things aren't always what they seem.
James Hillman writes that the soul makes intelligent statements to our conscious selves all the time. We only have to pay attention to what's being shown and then resist the urge to substitute images for their literal counterparts. What I've found, apart from that the resistance he suggests is easier said than done, is that if I allow it, the message of a dream, image or event really will be understood.
I've written about this before, anyway, so this is revision.
I don't think I can rest yet - there's a lot to be done. There are things that've been calling me - finishing up my series of articles on parenting with soul, for one. I have more to say about soul mates, about dreams and cledons and divination in general, and I've a book to write. Birds land on my back fence, asking to be part of it all - to be drawn into the scene.
The cosmic climate is strange and brilliant and more than ordinarily tricky, just the way I like it. Expect the unexpected...and dream on...