"in a dream..."

"o dreamer, 

leave thy dreams 

for joyful waking..." 

I am a lucid dreamer.  There, I have said it. I always have been.  I don't know of a time when I have not had very beautiful, promising, inspiring dreams.  The above lines, from one of my favorite hymns, "o dreamer", has always made me question the validity of those dreams.  

I do not have lucid nightmares.  I do not have nightmares.  At least not since I started paying attention to my sleeping moments and thoughts, as vigilantly as I am to my waking thoughts.  

But still, I have always wondered about the place of dreaming in the life of a spiritual thinker. Do we just dismiss anything that happens when we are sleeping -- good or bad -- as if it is simply an illusion?  Do we accept that whatever happens in our "waking" moments as more real, more worthy of our active conscious acceptance or dismissal. 

These are questions that have poked at me for most of my life.  

Just the other day, I glimpsed a bit more of the truth (for me) about these questions.  It came in the form of a Bible story -- from I Kings 3 -- that is probably very familiar to anyone who might have stumbled upon this blog.  

It is the story of Solomon's encounter with God in a dream -- yes, in a dream.  God asks him what He can do for him.  And Solomon first thanks God for his care of his father, David the King, and then he asks for "an understanding heart..." which God gives him -- in a dream. 

This was such a beautiful gift for me.  And an admonition.  How many times have I encountered good, the promise of divine purpose, a loved one, an expansive sense of community, spiritual gifts -- in a dream -- and have woken in the morning to dismiss them, as "just a dream," -- beautiful, but not real.

How many times have I glimpsed the promise and turned aside in morning to return to my "real life," -- in which that same beautiful promise seems untenable and beyond reach or comprehension?  How many healings have I had in a dream that I did not accept or acknowledge in the morning in the light of a new day?  How much good have I dismissed as just a dream? 

I am vigilant about preparing my heart for the silencing of my head -- the human mind -- before going to sleep, so that I can experience the restfulness of an active conscious sense of God's presence in my life.  I redeem the "day" I have just completed with attentiveness and gratitude.  I nourish my heart with passages of Scripture and the writings of Mary Baker Eddy, I claim my right to consciously rest in the presence of Mind. 

But time after time, upon awaking, I shake myself from the dream and often sigh with sadness that it was just a dream.  I might wonder about the message, or consider the symbolism, but I have never given myself permission to be blessed, bestowed, healed, transformed -- for good -- through a dream. 

No more.  The Bible gives us precedence for the acceptance of divine good.  If Solomon could have that encounter with God in a dream and accept God's bestowal of a wise and understanding heart - so can we.  So can I.   So can you.  

Scripture encourages us to "try the spirits whether they are of God."  This is required of us whether awake or asleep.  Is it good?  Will it bless?  Is it self-absorbed or humanity-enriching? 

Mary Baker Eddy gives some sense of this new view when she asks: 

"Is there any more reality in the waking dream of mortal existence than in the sleeping dream?"

I would ask is there anymore reality in the waking dream of spiritual existence than in the sleeping dream?  

Not long ago I had a beautiful sleeping dream in which I was doing something that I could not do in my waking life because of a physical challenge.  In that dream I had been healed through Christian Science treatment and prayer.  When I woke, in the morning, I was able to move very freely -- for about fifteen minutes -- before I "remembered" that it was "just a  dream."  And suddenly all the symptoms surfaced.  I had dismissed the healing as being "just a dream," and got back to work in addressing the claim as if that healing experience had not happened. 

The healing came along.  But, what if I had been more aware of the uninterrupted presence of spiritual good operating in consciousness -- whether waking of sleeping -- and had defended that healing with the same clarity about God's love, that I defend every Christian Science treatment, its healing effect on human experience.

Solomon didn't wake up from the dream and say, "wow, that was cool, but it was just a dream.  Maybe some day God will bless me that way in my waking moments."  He accepted the spiritual good -- and acted out from that new view of himself. 

Whether in our waking or sleeping moments -- we can accept all good and dismiss what does not align with God's love. We can reject the nightmare -- waking or sleeping -- with the same confidence and relief that we feel when we wake in the morning and realize that the monster was not really chasing us up the stairs.

And we can accept the good we experience in a dream with the same joy that we feel rising from the bed of pain, having realized God's healing presence in our lives.

"O dreamer, leave thy dream for joyful waking..." now means something very different to me.  I now know that I can leave a dream-sense of the good I have experienced in a dream for a realization that God's presence knows no bounds of sleeping or waking.  If I have experienced a sense of God's love -- it is real, it is never to be dismissed or discarded as just a dream.

Thank you Solomon.  I have read your story countless time and not seen the gift in it.  How many more of these Scriptural promises are waiting in the stories of other spiritual pioneers and teachers?  The classroom is vast - the lessons are endless.  

offered with Love, 

Cate

"time after time..."

"if you're lost
and you look,
you will find me,
time after time..."

If this post had no other purpose than sharing my sister-in-law, Lisa Redfern's gorgeous recording of Cyndi Lauper's timeless "Time After Time," it would be enough. I hope you will listen to it in a quiet space -- when you want to feel something deeper than time.

I first heard Lisa share -- to say "perform," would cheapen what she gave us that day -- this beautiful ballad during a loved friend's celebration of life. I can't speak for anyone else who heard it, but for me, it was transcendent.

All sense of time and space receded. All that existed was our friend and her love for each of us -- and ours for her. I felt like only my skin itself was holding me in shape. For all that I knew, and all that I loved, was dancing in the air, like dust motes in the sunshine, with our friend and her friends -- and humanity itself.

Humanity felt like a verb, rather than a noun -- a collection of bodies with independent minds and stories. The dance was one of complete unity - and a dissolution of personal sense. There was not one being who had completed a "life cycle" and had passed on, and the rest of us still bumping around in skin-contained bodies -- we were all released from things of time and space. We were spiritual. And I felt it.

Later on in the celebration, we danced as a collective -- and the singing prayer, that we prayed as we danced, left me feeling cleansed, and healed, and full of childlike hope for each of us and the human mechanism we would each return to, when we folded ourselves back into skin, and clothes, and cars, and planes -- for the trip "back home."

Ram Dass once wrote:

“We are all
just walking
each other
home."
 

I've never felt the truth of that statement more clearly than during our Lisa's celebration of life and especially during Lisa Redfern's singing of "Time after Time."

I still feel it. Every day. The clock ticks, but it tells us nothing about the eternality of Life. The immortality of all beauty, and love, and grace.

We traverse space. We count steps. We measure the mass we take up. We drive miles and fly kilometers. We own acres, and build square footage. But do we? Is this all part of the distortion that says we are isolated, solitary ideas with stuff that we have accumulated -- and will one day leave behind?

Lisa's singing of "Time after Time," left me with a much different feeling. I glimpsed the substance of it all. All of those dust motes of consciousness that dance and swirl -- are simply gathering and coalescing in moments of purpose. We are not isolated solitary ideas with personal minds that control a limited number of those dust motes under a membrane of skin.

We are so much more -- and we are, "one with the earth and the sky" -- and each other. We are constantly shifting like water molecules that become visible as a cloud or rain -- but then invisible as steam and mist. One form no less - or more - substantive and real than another. We are not static, but ever-evolving. We are not born into a shape, defined by a mind that accumulates stories and stuff -- starting with a birth story and continuing with a false narrative of mistakes and accomplishments, successes, accidents, surprises, and failures. We are so much more, than what appears to be.

Through love, we are drawn into, and released from, limited and limiting forms -- existing only in shifting shapes of purpose. But we exist eternally as spiritual substance -- changeless, infinite in scope, as eternal as Love itself.  We are as irrevocable as a molecule of water's capacity to be drawn into purpose as steam, mist, rain, river, sea, breath for a fish, sacred for a Savior's last lesson, humble in falling, exalted as a prism for revealing a bow of promise.

I have, as a friend would say, "gone off the rails." I could write about what this feels like -- at the depth of my heart and soul --  for hours and hours.  Listening to Lisa singing again this morning brought it immediately into focus. But I will leave this here. If it's something you would love to ponder together -- give me a call. Or text. Or email. Or just sit quietly in a sunny corner, listen to it again -- we will hear it together. And we will dance, like dust motes in the gathering space.

Thank you Lisa.

offered with Love,

Kate

"dreaming of elephants..."

"Oh dreamer,
leave thy dreams
for joyful waking..."

My sister-in-law, Lisa Redfern's recording of "Oh, Dreamer,"  is the perfect accompaniment for this post. And, I so love her voice.

Two weeks ago I was facing a demanding travel schedule. In order to be at the airport early on the day of my departure, I made plans to drive over the pass the day before, have dinner with my sister, and stay the night with her and her sweet husband.

After a lovely evening we all turned in and I was grateful to fall asleep quickly and peacefully -- as I was anticipating very little sleep during my 25 hours of in-flight travel the next day.

About two hours later I woke with a start. I was feeling the symptoms of something coming on. The symptoms were aggressive and the thought of heading into that demanding weekend-- so physically challenged -- was alarming. Immediately I began praying for clarity and freedom. Although the symptoms persisted, my prayers were actually quite joyful.

At some point I must have dozed off in the middle of my prayers because again, I woke with a start. This time I was drenched in a cold sweat. "Oh my gosh," I thought, "I don't want to disappoint Alison." Alison is the Ranch Director at a summer camp near our home in the mountains. I'd dreamed that I was supposed to bring two elephants from camp to the Denver airport for her, and I couldn't figure out how to fit them in my car. The feeling of panic was visceral. It had woken me up, and I was actually -- physically -- covered in damp perspiration.

Then, within moments, I was fully awake. Whew!  I was in my sister's house. There were no elephants. I had not promised Alison that I would bring two elephants to the airport.  Because, there were no elephants. I sat up and giggled quietly. It was just what I needed.

There were no elephants -- and there were no symptoms. Both were dreams that I could wake up from. Within a few moments the perspiration had dried, and I realized that I was also fully free of all of the symptoms that had seemed so real only an hour before.

Over the course of that weekend, there were many issues that presented themselves for healing. Each time I reminded myself:

"there are no elephants..."

And each time it broke the mesmerism -- the suggestions that tried - over and over again - to convince me that whatever I was "dreaming," was actually going on. I simply needed to wake up - more fully - to the truth of God's omnipresent goodness and harmony.

It was helpful to remember that panic I had felt that night in my sister's house -- it had felt so real. The perspiration that had drenched my nightgown -- it too had felt so real. But it was all based on a false premise -- the premise that there were elephants that needed to be taken to the airport. And from that premise, the human mind had projected a whole story about how I wouldn't be able to get them in the car,  and how, if I couldn't, Alison would be disappointed in me, and then I would feel horrible for disappointing her. When, in fact -- there were no elephants. Without the elephants, my car wasn't too small, and Alison's disappointment in me vanished.

It's the same when we find ourselves feeling symptoms of fever, or pain, or depression. The human mind thinks those feelings are as real as the perspiration that drenched my nightgown, or the rapid beating of my heart. Then it -- the human mind -- works backwards searching for a cause. But just as there were no elephants to legitimize the cause of my panic and perspiration, there was no legitimate cause for the symptoms of illness -- that seemed as real as the perspiration on my nightgown. When I could see that both were a dream, the symptoms disappeared even more quickly than the perspiration dried.

One of the "dreams" I had to challenge on this trip was the one that said, "Kate, you never sleep on planes. It is impossible. Your legs are too short to reach the floor, and the angle of the seat makes it impossible to find a comfortable position.  And since you will have no time to sleep, once you get to your destination you are going to be too tired to do what you are going there to do.   And that doesn't even account for jet lag."

But, as I sat in my seat on the plane that night I thought, "there are no elephants." What that meant to me was that there was no reason -- no basis for -- why I could not rest peacefully on this flight. So I found the small travel pillow in my bag, laid my head back, and within minutes I was fast asleep. And according to the woman in the seat next to me, I slept peacefully -- and without fitfulness -- for the next nine hours. When I awoke, I was rested, and could hardly believe that we were being told to prepare for landing.

So much of our lives are spent in a semi-wakefulness. We go about our day like sleepwalkers. Lulled into believing that we are supposed to transport elephants, over a mountain, in the back of a Toyota. When there are no elephants!

In her primary work, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy offers this profound observation:

"Lulled by stupefying illusions,
the world is asleep in the cradle of infancy,
dreaming away the hours.”

And in her Miscellaneous Writings 1883 - 1896 she further assures us that:

"Waking from a dream,
one learns its unreality;
then it has no power over one."

Sleeping can be lovely, and dreaming fun. But when we are awake, we have the right to be fully awake, and to know that we are awake. It's important to claim our right to leave those dreams for joyful waking.  To rise and sing, "I am free."  We have the inalienable right to know that there are no elephants.

offered with Love,

Kate

"Everybody has a right..."

"The price you pay for freedom,
might just be your liberty.
Everybody has the right
to be free...."

In this video, Bob Lucas', "Everybody Has a Right," is beautifully rendered by my "sister," Lisa.  Her voice pleads for individual and collective surrender.  It implores us to release our hold on the hearts, and lives, of others.  It speaks to what is inherently generous in us...and it is timeless.  It speaks to that which loves to watch butterflies, hummingbirds, a leaf carried on the river's song, geese in migratory flight .

It would have been hard for me to watch it, tonight, and not make the connection between it's message of liberty, and that of countless other freedom songs I've long loved.   From "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," to "We Shall Overcome," men and women of every race and color have employed music to share their cry for emancipation.

I remember standing on the steps of my high school in the late sixties and singing:

"Mine eyes have seen the glory
of the coming of the Lord...

In the beauty of the lilies
Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom
that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy,
let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.

Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
Glory, glory, hallelujah!
While God is marching on."

We were just kids poised on the brink of a future, we were absolutely certain was filled...to the brim...with humanity's collective hopes for religious, racial, and gender freedoms.  Civil rights, women's rights, the right to worship, the right to vote...all these things were calling us forward.

Martin Luther King and the Kennedy brothers were our heroes.  And we really did think that we were on the verge of something so revolutionary, that the world would never be the same.  We had a dream...we still do.

Lisa's rendition of "Everyone has a Right," reminds me of that gray January day. We were a rag tag group of long-haired teenage revolutionaries...in mini skirts, jeans, and fringed buckskin vests...singing the only freedom song we knew well enough to sing without hesitation .- we'd all memorized it in grade school.  We sang because singing united us in protest of all that seemed so unjust...a war, segregation, gender inequality in education, sports, business, finance, family.

Our plea was simple.  Please let us go.  Please release your hold on our lives' promise.  Please let us, and our brothers and sisters of color, have the freedom to...well, just be.  To be all that our hearts have desired, our minds have dreamed, and our hopes have propelled us towards.

Another "sister," Heather, reminded me...today...that Martin Luther King, Jr. once wrote:

"I refuse to accept the view, that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war, that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word."

I do too.  I believe, with all my heart, that "unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word," and we will all be free.  When we love someone...or many someones...we are selfless enough to yield our hold on their hearts, their lives, their dreams.   We rejoice in their liberty, we celebrate their independence, we delight in watching them pursue their God's inspired hopes.  We sing...

Still singing...
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

[photo credit: Nathaniel Wilder 2010]