I wake up from a dream. In the dream, my daughter has a social engagement on a Friday evening at school. Fridays are my busiest day at work and the next day I am on call with weekend clinic. Should I ask my husband or mom to take her? Should I take her myself?
The anxiety, guilt, and self-blame from old wounds, old thought patterns bleed into my morning on vacation. Unlike other times, I'm not disturbed by this dream. I sense that it's meaning will be revealed like the full moon from a veil of subconscious clouds if I try to bring a kind and curious attention. The kind of attention I'd bring to my daughter when she is hurting or a patient I really care about who is suffering.
I know I don't stand a chance in understanding the dream unless I am willing to be totally honest about my feelings. While my husband and daughter are sleeping soundly, I sit on my meditation cushion and yoga mat patiently waiting for the feelings to arise.
I'm anxious about the extra days we have in Denali and travel time to Anchorage before we catch a flight to Seattle where we will spend the last few days of vacation. Do we really need these extra days? We could have used them at the end of the trip to arrive home a day early. More time to unpack, do laundry, catch up with mail, work, fit in some personal time before the work week and a new school year begins. I feel guilty that I want to shave some days off the middle of our vacation for a smoother transition home. I blame myself for not fully opening to the beauty and slow pace of life around me (something I crave when I'm busy!).
I breathe with everything I am now consciously holding in my lap and heart. There is no judgement, no questions of how, when, or why, only silence as the full moon gives way to a rising sun, a fireball of fierce love and understanding. The morning light urges me to stand and begin some yoga asanas to circulate this heart infused understanding to every part of my body. My dear body, this mobile home away from home revealing all I need to know in any given moment.
As I finish writing this, my belly softens. Shallow breaths give way to slow, deep, rhythmic ones. If I were to invite another dream, I would dream that the transition from vacation back home is a gentle one. Laundry is washed, mail is sorted, work and school are addressed in a relaxed manner. Most importantly, I unpack myself slowly. My thoughts and emotions are lifted delicately like fine crystal from a velvet case and polished with pure presence.
May I help others unpack their emotional baggage with the same presence.
The anxiety, guilt, and self-blame from old wounds, old thought patterns bleed into my morning on vacation. Unlike other times, I'm not disturbed by this dream. I sense that it's meaning will be revealed like the full moon from a veil of subconscious clouds if I try to bring a kind and curious attention. The kind of attention I'd bring to my daughter when she is hurting or a patient I really care about who is suffering.
I know I don't stand a chance in understanding the dream unless I am willing to be totally honest about my feelings. While my husband and daughter are sleeping soundly, I sit on my meditation cushion and yoga mat patiently waiting for the feelings to arise.
I'm anxious about the extra days we have in Denali and travel time to Anchorage before we catch a flight to Seattle where we will spend the last few days of vacation. Do we really need these extra days? We could have used them at the end of the trip to arrive home a day early. More time to unpack, do laundry, catch up with mail, work, fit in some personal time before the work week and a new school year begins. I feel guilty that I want to shave some days off the middle of our vacation for a smoother transition home. I blame myself for not fully opening to the beauty and slow pace of life around me (something I crave when I'm busy!).
I breathe with everything I am now consciously holding in my lap and heart. There is no judgement, no questions of how, when, or why, only silence as the full moon gives way to a rising sun, a fireball of fierce love and understanding. The morning light urges me to stand and begin some yoga asanas to circulate this heart infused understanding to every part of my body. My dear body, this mobile home away from home revealing all I need to know in any given moment.
As I finish writing this, my belly softens. Shallow breaths give way to slow, deep, rhythmic ones. If I were to invite another dream, I would dream that the transition from vacation back home is a gentle one. Laundry is washed, mail is sorted, work and school are addressed in a relaxed manner. Most importantly, I unpack myself slowly. My thoughts and emotions are lifted delicately like fine crystal from a velvet case and polished with pure presence.
May I help others unpack their emotional baggage with the same presence.
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