ars poetica

I hate writing about writing. Ugh. Why don't I just put Webster's dictionary definition of "blog" here to start us off, followed by a really long quote that I don't explain... but, the nature of the blog is what paralyzes me today. I could write about something objective like health and food. I could write about music or how my car needs an alignment. I could write about Selah. But the stuff I really want to write about and do write about with a pen and paper still feels unsuitable for this forum. So...

I had a dream last night like one I've never had. I was at the top of a cliff, looking out over a grey and rocky vista. The cliff and surrounding areas were covered in a powder blue gauzy fabric, a la Christo and Jeanne-Claude (the likes of which I actually wore as a dress on Wednesday light in real life). I had Selah with me. It was cold, windy, threatening rain. I had the awareness that I was in a fairy tale, that there was something I had to overcome in order to live happily ever after, let's say. I was supposed to be waiting for a letter or a sign, at which point I was to jump off the cliff with Selah in my arms and trust the blue fabric to land us safely at the bottom. I waited. Nothing came. I took some of the fabric off of its line, wrapped it around myself, hesitated only momentarily and then took a few running steps and leapt. I was afraid but had a deeper sense of faith that overrode the fear. Once I was airborne, I had that very palpable feeling of my stomach rising and for a fleeting moment wondered if I had jumped out too far, the slightest doubt of whether I'd be caught or crushed. We landed safely and must have lost consciousness for a moment, because I remember waking up uninjured amidst folds and folds of the blue fabric, and waking Selah so that we could complete our journey. We ended up at some sort of castle where my friend Andre was waiting outside, and some woman at the entrance dressed in a bear suit (we had been watching Yo Gabba Gabba before bed... thus the cosplay) who was the "villain" who made sure that I never received the letter giving me the signal to jump. There was no sign, I just jumped. And it was the right thing to do, and at the right time. I sat down at a picnic table with Andre outside the castle, weary but satisfied after my successful trial. There was a feeling of a festive family gathering where we were expected and welcomed.

It felt like a pretty important shift in my subconscious, a resolution of what I've been working through these past few months. I'm looking forward to seeing its manifestations in waking life.

For some reason good ole Keats came to mind...

"Beauty is truth, truth beauty," – that is all

Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.