Renewal

I've been reading poetry in my dreams. Sometimes it's something I've written, but most of the time it's something composed by someone else, and it's always inspired. Pages and pages of it, sometimes in hard copy, sometimes online. But, unlike artists who can remember their inspiration upon waking, I lose the thread when my eyes open to consciousness.

And I was given a suggestion in my dreams last night that has helped to lift the burden of guilt from my shoulders that keeps me from a disciplined, consistent spiritual practice -- that is, when I wake up too late and miss my a.m. opportunity to balance, I tend to feel very bad about myself and get caught up in a cycle of avoidance, which begets further guilt. I seem to have found the off switch in that programming loop.

Winter continues to grace us with snow, although Spring is defiantly poking her curly head up and giggling at us. This lengthy Rocky Mountain Winter runs contrary to my desert-rat conditioniong. And since I have moved to extreme climates during the most extreme time of the year weather-wise for the past two years, my body has become more estranged from the natural world than is healthy. For the past month, I've been struggling to connect with myself in the absence of connection to Gaia. I found myself spiraling, not exactly downward, but in a constant whirlpool wanting to suction me down, as the storms continued to dump inches and feet of snow, further delaying the muddy season which eventually gives way to Spring as we know it in the flatlands. As we drove into town today, I noticed how little snow there is left, and how in the wake of the New Moon things look so much greener in the canyons, mesas, and mountains I now call home.

The oppressive weight of cabin fever is giving way to a lightness of spirit and renewing sense of mission within. It's flurrying outside, but it's also sunny. I can carry storms at the same time as I carry sun.

I'm crossing my fingers that hiking is not a long-off possibility.

And dreaming of fine poetry.