Right Now,
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
It is 7am and I arise. I've allowed myself to sleep past my internal alarm clock, for
I am tired. Like all busy bees, there has been much vibrant activity in my life. Thus, I am making up for some lost deep sleep as well as planning ahead and storing much needed rest.
The dream that I just awoke from was telling and as I slowly disengage myself from it, I hear the voice of L., my past graduate school advisor, reminding me to "keep a dream journal" and to "write my dreams down." So, I turn over on this cozy bed upon the floor, in this cave that I call my inner most sanctuary, and towards the door, where the light of the risen sun is pouring underneath as well as reflecting off of the honey-colored wood floor of the Hive's studio. I am grateful to find my computer laying here next to me. "Ah, here you are," I say to it.
Laying uninterrupted on my back, I snored deeply all night. My last & most recent dream was racked with my sobbing - deep guttural sobs. Prior to my crying, I found myself moving sweetly with a pack of human bee-ings across Earthly terrain and through some sort of outdoor, camping experience. A tight group of men and women, roughly all my same age, we played in child-like innocence, leading each other to laughter quickly and enjoying the sweetness of simply bee-ing together. I delighted in experiencing their friendship as well as their deep regard and care for me. In the dream, I remember also experiencing feelings of bee-ing in love. It all felt so wonderful and warm.
At our last camp, I ran around playing, swinging, jumping, and photographing with them. Soon, it was time to leave. Unfortunately, I negated my responsibilities as one of the two keepers of this camp. And, as our group left, walking as one unit on to the next destination, I looked around the grass clearing we had been playing in - it was littered with random items. We had left a mess and it was my job to clean it up - just as it had been my responsibility to maintain a balance between play and taking care while we had all been present there together.
Hurriedly, I began to pick up after us. In a rush, I started gathering the hatchets and the axes, the rusted tools and random utensils. As the time morbidly oozed by and as the recognition that the cleaning up process was going to take much longer than I hoped, I began to wail. Deep, guttural sobbing, I mourned the loss of my friends and my not being able to join them on their continued journey. I picked up and I cried. I cried and I cried. And, then I noticed something peculiar.
Hanging suspended in the air, from a wire pole, and dangling over the ground, was some sort of human-like scare-crow. It wore the mask of a bee keeper and the shirt of a dear friend. There were some bees moving about across its outstretched hands and its face mask.
"Wow, that's S's shirt," I spoke to no one but me.
"Hey Cara," he responded.
"That is you, S?!?" I wiped at my eyes in disbelief as my crying subsided.
"Yeah, I am doing some research on the movement (of bees). Thus far, they've swarmed and circled around me a few times, but they haven't created a new colony yet."
Immediately, my hysteria disappeared and I was hOMe.
TRUST, Cara.
TRUST.
& Allow UNKNOWING.
It is all there is to do.
