There is Still Love

This is the second week that I've had "love" dreams. I woke up feeling very loved and capable of loving.

First, I dreamed I was dreaming. In that dream speech and sound didn't exist. There was feeling. I could still see, though, so who I saw was a man similar to Nick Andros (Rob Lowe), but younger and more vibrant. There was love; Oh, there was love! We were both so gentle. When I awoke, the world was different. He looked different physically, but he was the same inside. Now he resembled someone I knew from high school, but still did not speak or hear. At first I lamented that he wasn't the same, but then I realized that love is still love no matter how you appear. I still had a connection to him. There was still love.

On the way to work I had a moment of recognition: T and I are connected. We're travelers. We're the pair of geese in the morning sky. We're quite capable of that gentle love, if only we'd notice it.

This Blog's Purpose

When I began this writing blog a few years ago, I wasn't sure what I intended to find. Was I looking for myself? Was I looking for answers? Was I looking for other people who felt the same way? Did I want to help others to understand themselves? I assumed if I put several focused thoughts in one place, that they would somehow manifest an answer that I didn't know I was looking for. Pretty vague, eh? It's easy to see now that I wasn't specific in my request, so of course I wasn't going to get a specific answer. As of two years after the blog started, I do not have one follower or even a comment. I'm aware of only two people who have ever read an entry, and I didn't even receive a confirmation of what they may have read or thought of the blog.

To put it plainly, this blog is a hot mess.

I now have a better understanding of manifestation, so instead of throwing thoughts to the universe, I need to have a goal visualized.

At the End of the Day

I feel in-between. I'm mentally weary from a day's work and need to wind down. I feel no urge to absorb information. Now is a time for rest and processing. I would like to experience something familiar, not new. I think I have the perfect music in mind for the drive home.

I am comforted to simply be.

Blind to Yourself

“Your prevailing characteristic is hidden. You act on it without seeing that you’re acting on it.”

This is why I have trouble defining all but the most general characteristics of myself. I know I'm introverted, intelligent, funny, caring, and emotional...but nothing defining comes to mind such as "caretaker, artist, lover." I've come to appreciate a label-less me. It just makes writing biographies and descriptions of myself difficult. ;)

Passion Without Attachment

What does that mean? A love for music without judgment? Helping others with no expectations? Creativity without concern of outcome? It means I must accept everything as a potential muse and not become reliant on one thing. I must love and appreciate everything.

But, oh, the daydreams I've had! They are so wonderful, yet terrible. I suppose they are a byproduct of fear. Fear of pursuing dreams. Attachment to a symbol and perceived identity. (Although I did run into an odd synchronicity between a portion of the daydream and real life. I'll keep it in mind.)

Focus: Be thankful for what I have. I have beautiful music that fills me with energy. Will I ever see them live? If I don't, it won't lessen my enjoyment of the music. I can always see them in my dreams. Will I ever meet them in person? They have their own lives, as do I. They have their own path just like I do. If our paths happen to intersect, wonderful. If not, rejoice in their journey.

Keeping Perspective

Time to back up again. Take it easy. The music isn't going anywhere. Breathe.

I feel like I need the music to fuel something. I need it to do something. I feel *driven*. Steve Pavlina asked yesterday, "Is your music still in you?" I know mine is. What can I share? What would others appreciate from me? What do they need me to do for them? All I can muster right now is dancing/rocking my heart out as I drive, cook, bake, and play Star Trek. This relieves tension in the short-term, but it's not enough.

I wrote some poetry the other day, which I really enjoyed. (I've always enjoyed the creation process for writing.) And for once I'm not ashamed of it in any way because it came from my heart. It was genuine. I felt it quite deeply. It's not perfect, but would I like it if it was?

Should I be writing? ...Should I write about what I feel inspired by? If only I could travel and be inspired to write and share this with others. It's such a fantasy; my writing could use a lot of work to boot. The beauty of writing is that you can write about anything your heart wishes. I'm just not sure how I would share that with others.

Ah, I already wrote a much better post about why I like to write. So what am I waiting for?

A Sonnet on Thursday

So impatient and anxious, yet hands are tied.
What is this weakness? This longing inside?
I'd locked it away as a dream denied
so long ago it should have died.
But now I cannot forget its gaze.
Stricken with passion, my heart ablaze
became an actor who portrays
a lovestruck fool in countless ways.
What began as passing time, a muse
has ushered thoughts I did not choose.
Every moment I pine; I cannot refuse
an intoxicating daydream while listening to you.
Your songs and sounds, they set me free.
I beg you, come and play for me.