In my opinion
People abused in childhood
Can transcend quickly
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
People abused in childhood
Can transcend quickly
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]
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I apologize for lack of recent activity. spent ten days at Buddhist monastery in NorCal, leaving now because of encroaching fires. sawadee krap. X
Awoke this morning at 444 am and did a full Qigong meditation. Then, Forrest Yoga abs. Huzzah
During one of this morning’s dreams, I and a handful of other entities were on our way to the airport to board a flight. On the way, we stopped to go hiking on a path that ran alongside a tall, vaguely circular, wooded mountain that looked strongly familiar. In order to reach the lot where we’d parked our car, we had to pass through a long tunnel, which featured a roofed bulletin board from which paper messages and bags that people had forgotten were hanging.
Recognizing a white canvas bag as one my father used to own, I lifted it off of the wooden peg from which it had hung and opened it up, rifling through the contents. Out came reams of loose papers as well as a few old-fashioned photographs. The latter I kept turning over in my hands until I could see the images they bore, mostly poor-quality pictures of my siblings and me in our youth sitting amongst our parents in darkened rooms. Suddenly, I became aware of a large and threatening shadow-shape lurking under the steel walkway that lead through the tunnel. My initial attempts to flee were thwarted by my companions, who soothed my fears. Then, during the same or a subsequent dream, I heard with my waking ears someone that sounded just like my deceased mother say my first and middle names, to which I responded, aloud, with, “Hi, mom.” [After this dream, I meditated for about fifteen minutes then did my travel yoga session. Huzzah!] [ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] During much of this morning’s dream I was worming my way through the hallways and staircases of a vast series of interlocking, cliff-mounted structures. Sometimes I was alone, and sometimes hordes of other people crowded into the structures’ rooms, making it hard for me to move around. I was trying to get from one disc golf tee-box to another, but these were spaced far apart from one another and the layout of the place was confusing, causing me to climb many stairs and squeeze down many tunnels built into and through the homes of the people living there. Each time I threw my discs, they sailed out of view. Although I knew were they had landed, I had a difficult time figuring out how to get there through the maze of interlocking buildings.
At one point, I was standing at the top of a staircase conferring with some of the people judging the event (or who were at least doing something officious). Turning around, I found the stairs behind me so impossibly packed with people that my only recourse for descending to the floor below was to jump out over the side of the railing and hand-carry myself on the outside edges of the individual steps to the floor below. As I reached the bottom my legs brushed against the stockinged feet of a lass resting with two other women on a couch. She immediately stripped her socks off whilst giving me evil looks, to which I responded (as I was walking out a nearby door) by mocking her concern for her striped and colorful socks, saying something like “My legs aren’t that dirty.” Later in the dream sequences, I was in an alpine city built onto level ground that was covered with a few inches of slushy snow. Despite the presence of frozen precipitation I knew the city was on Bali, the Island of the Gods, somewhere high up the side of one of its towering volcanoes. The city was party ruined, many of its sparsely-placed high-rise buildings damaged or collapsed, but its streets were packed with cars, buses, and people attending to business. Twice whilst in the city I stepped up into a burnt-out single-family home in which stood a representation of my deceased father, an older man with grey hair but strong arms and big hands who embraced me in a great hug and asked why I was groaning in pain and weeping loudly. (After the second time meeting the older man I indeed lay awake in bed crying, hugging myself about the chest, and basking in the memory of those who have died before me.) Falling back asleep, I found myself sitting in the slushy snow talking to a bypassing woman wearing a tan overcoat, who had stopped to admonish me to seek a drier place to sit lest I catch the sniffles. The thick wool socks I was wearing, though they like the rest of me sat in mounds of cold wet, were nonetheless bone dry, which to my dream-consciousness seemed slightly odd. [ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] This dream occurred sometime in the early hours of this morning.
A dark-haired boy and what appeared to be his father were sitting next to a water-filled channel running across the descending edge of a sand dune. Beyond and below them was a flat beach upon which a few dozen bathers lounged. As I was walking up the mound toward them the boy climbed onto the rim of the channel, which collapsed, sending him tumbling head over heels into a trough of water at the bottom of the dune. I yelled at the father to alert him of his son’s plight, but he never turned to look, instead sat facing away from us the whole time. Swallowed instantly by the trough’s quicksand-like substrate material, the boy disappeared until only the very top of his head was showing. Clawing into and digging away at the golden liquid sand, my efforts hampered by freely-flowing water, I managed to free the boy’s head, then finally after more frantic excavations his whole body. His eyes were closed and his face and neck were turning blue from lack of oxygen. Gathering his rag-doll body into my arms, I picked him up so that his head rested to the right of mine and his limbs draped around the right side of my torso. Standing up, I shouted down to the lounging bathers, who seemed unable to understand me. I tried different languages, saying things like Police, Polizei, Polisi, call for help, ayudame, rufe einen Krankenwagen, and tolong sakit. Then, the scenery changed and I was ascending a tall tower of glass and steel, still holding the unconscious boy, mounting flights of stairs and riding upward in elevators, climbing ever and ever higher into the sky. Upon reaching some sort of top-floor control center packed with blinking computer terminals and walled in with slanted slabs of glass, I was approached directly by a small blond woman who finally offered to help me revive the unconscious child in my arms. [ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] The following are particulars from this morning’s dream.
I and another were in the crystal clear, aquamarine ocean trying to figure out where waves might be breaking that we could surf on later, but the current near the beach was very strong and the rocks that formed part of the ocean floor there were sharp and jagged. A traditional Indonesian outrigger boat arrived, whereupon I am my companion left the sea. Then, I was sheltering from the noon sun in a partial clearing under palm trees and other tropical vegetation, near the ocean, sitting on a wooden park-bench with at least one other entity, who was dark blue in color and sat behind me and to the right. Seeing movement to my left, I looked over to find an orange-skinned local woman turning a suckling pig on a spit over a fire. When I greeted her in her tongue I heard a voice say Selemat Pagi, which means Good Morning, to which I responded with Selemat Soreh, which means Good Afternoon. The voice near the woman echoed my response. Without ceasing in her task of spinning the small roasting pig and with unseeing eyes staring right at me, she opened her mouth, out of which white fluid flowed unabated to splatter on the white-gold sands below. I turned away from her to make a comment about what time of day it was to the blue-skinned fellow behind me and to my right, at which point we were approached by an entity resembling an old friend of mine from Bali who has long dreadlocks. The newcomer tried to drum up enthusiasm for a surf trip on his friend’s boat to the reef, where the were breaking. From right to left across the clearing walked a very pregnant woman with dark hair and light skin wearing a light blue and white floral dress whose hands were covered in a dusting of a white substance and whose forearms bulged with thick muscles. The blue-skinned entity told me that the forearms are controlled by the front edges of the ribs, which in the physics of the dreamworld made sense to me. [ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] I awoke to dreams of queueing to board a flight, the mild need to urinate compelling me to keep opening doors on my way toward the security counter, finding not bathrooms but staircases. I in fact awoke, voided, then lay back in bed only to have my alarm start sounding as soon as I had finished aligning the covers. The time was 444 am.
Once getting fresh water for the offering, I said my morning supplications, made the bed, then had a first cup of green tea with wildflower medley, salt, and honey. Soon enough, I was sitting in tanpan or half lotus and performing all twelve steps of the Qigong meditation as the sun rose red over the woods to my fore. I finished at around 630 am. After another cup of green tea, I did the first installment of Ana Forrest’s Daily Intensive courses, making it to the end of the Sun Salutations before being overwhelmed by internal struggle and shutting off the recording. In all, I experienced four significant life successes before 8 am this morning. Consequently, I feel great about the day yet to come. Huzzah! [ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] Since returning from my friend’s bachelor party last weekend I’ve only been able to manage morning sessions of Lien Ching Hwa Chi, focusing chi in the Dantien using breath and mental focus, the tips of the thumbs with the hands in the lap, the right resting on top of the left. After roughly 15 minutes of this meditation I’ve been doing my travel yoga sequence, counting out at least a full minute in Dolphin pose before starting my 8 Sun Salutations. Wish me luck with returning to my full practices!
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] Had dreams about the inner gang having adventures, vivid conversations and intensive face-to-face interactions. I awoke at 444 am, the first ring of my alarm, then voided my bowels and made the bed. After morning supplications I poured the first cup of tea, drank it quickly, then sat down to meditate despite a weak urge to go back to sleep. After the 9th step of Qigong, I went upstairs to say happy birthday to my buddy, who about to head to work. Then, I finished the Qigong, had another cup of tea, adjusted the blinds to let in more sunlight, and did my travel yoga session as the sun rose through the window in front of me. Huzzah!
[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] |
to the best of my ability I update this blog Sunday through Friday
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