I haven’t remembered more than a half-dozen dreams within the last a year. That is far from normal. In the past I would remember nearly every dream every night, I would write them down just so I wouldn’t forget the exact feeling or moment in my subconscious that felt so real and true, feeling even more real that actual reality. “Reality” (which consisted of work, traffic, lines, banks, bills, sideways girls and unreliable boys.)
I need to remember my dreams, again. They’re amazing and beautiful, frightening and enlightening, clues to my hijinks and links to my past, they’re both poison and sustenance, confusion and clarity. Invaluable experience inside endless scenery.
Back to the point.
Meditation is a thing. A real thing. Breathing exercises, too. I’m studying much of it like I take vitamins and supplements, learning at the same pace that I’m living, about a million miles an hour. Yet I grasp so much but somehow cannot sit still long enough to take notes or absorb anything of import other than devising ways to get out of this town or out of that room.
Harmony, balance and contentment.
Regardless of how elusive those things may be, I believe that solace can be achieved when your chemicals, friends, lovers, family, diet and activity all occur fluidly. When one doesn’t outweigh each other but instead compliments each other, true peace will then be a part of life. My life. Our life.
Actually acting on desires and ambitions is a whole different beast.
Let us release this animal from it’s cage and see what achievements and damage may be left in its wake.
Let us see what art, connections, revelations, growth and actions will occur when we allow ourselves to absorb adventure and run with the wildlife instead of falling in line and sitting with the people.
Growl. Grow. Release. Roar.