Daydreams

My sweet baby and I are living together in the wilderness. We have a completely self-sustaining lifestyle. We do the things that used to be a normal part of being human. We spend most of the day gathering fresh water, medicinal herbs, wildflowers, roots, nuts, berries and whatever else we may need from the abundant natural world all around us. Each day is an adventure. We feel the soil beneath our feet. We get our hands dirty, feeling our way through the lush green textures of the mountainside. Sun soaked skin, hearts filled with the joy of living.

A vegan world where humans and other animals live side by side in peaceful harmony. We greet our neighbors (the local deer, chipmunks, squirrels, etc.) scratch their heads, give them small tastes of what we’ve gathered this morning. We call them by name and sing to them as they follow behind us toward home. Both the animals and the plants are family that we know well. We take care of one another with gratitude.

Before heading inside with our haul, we check on our garden where we grow what we aren’t able to find. Soft caresses of leaves as we work our way through the freshly dampened soil, inspecting, checking to see what’s ripe. After we’ve completed our “work.” We lie side by side in the cool grass, under the shade of a tree we grew ourselves, another one of our children. We take turns reading aloud to one another from a book, pausing here and there to discuss our thoughts on different passages or to steal a quick kiss.

Every evening we gather with the small, close-knit community that we have cultivated. We start to gather wood for a fire and prepare some food to share. It’s such a meaningful experience to come together with like-minded people. We each have our own unique energy to offer. We make art, play music, dance, watch the human children run and play with the fur children. Once a month our gathering is extra spiritual. We all eat some of the foraged mushrooms we’ve dried and stored away, embarking on regular, epic voyages of the mind together.

We are no longer burdened by the pressures, expectations, and limitations of traditional society. No one has a job besides taking care of themselves and their loved ones. We all pitch in to help those in need, bonding over shared experiences and mutual vulnerability. The children in our community are loved, protected, and cared for by all of us. They come and go as they please from every house. They are well educated both intellectually and spiritually.

Physical touch between friends is no longer taboo, whether male or female. We all express our affection freely, without fear of sexual misunderstandings. We have clear and open communication between everyone in the community. We live without shame or fear of ridicule, knowing we are all accepted for exactly who we are.

Each night we go to bed mentally and physically exhausted, but in a good way. We sleep deep, with the stars above us shining through the glass ceilinged bedroom which lets us rise and fall with the sun. Our hearts are full of hope, love, and excitement for the day to come.

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Visualization

I have recently become very interested in visualization. I’ve heard about the benefits of using it in meditation mainly. I’d like to start learning more about it. Even just daydreaming is apparently beneficial. I used to daydream a lot when I was younger. I don’t know when I stopped doing that. Maybe it was once I had been let down one too many times as a teenager. I began fearing my daydreams, thinking I was just getting my hopes up, setting myself up for disappointment. But now I think I did myself a disservice in viewing it that way.

Even though I now see that daydreaming is perfectly healthy and can be a positive, mindful practice, I still have lingering negative feelings attached to it. When I think about daydreaming, I am thinking about imagining things that haven’t actually happened or things that might happen in the future. Visualization can include daydreams, but it is distinct in the sense that you can also visualize places you’ve been, people you know, even things you have felt. For instance, yesterday during my short meditation, I was unable to settle my mind enough to focus on my breath. Instead I decided to picture myself seated on my favorite giant rock along the river. I went through every detail of what it felt like when I was there in the past and put myself back in that mental space. Allow me to take you there with me for just a moment.

It is summer. The smooth surface of the heavy stone beneath you is cool despite the warm air all around. You breathe in. The air is thick and soft. You breath out. You feel a gentle breeze pass over you. You hear it rustling the lush green leaves that surround you in this private place. Mixing with bird songs in the distance and the crisp collision of the waves against the bank, it creates a symphony that sends shivers down your spine. The earth is breathing too. It has its own soothing rhythm. Even with your eyes gently closed, you know it is very bright out. The sunlight creates a reddish hue on the backs of your eyelids instead of the blackness that usually resides there. You can feel the prickling heat of the rays against your skin, your shoulders, your cheeks, your open palms.

Wasn’t that pleasant to read? Did you feel the sun? Did you hear the rustling leaves, the waves? Isn’t it amazing how vividly our minds can reproduce these things for us wherever you are? I was so overwhelmed with gratitude and joy as I visualized this beautiful summer day that I nearly wept. I don’t have much experience with visualizations like this. Apparently they can get even better and more detailed with regular practice. I enjoyed that meditation so much that I even went through a catalogue of moments like that in my memory as I fell asleep last night. One that I was particularly struck by was the memory of a day last summer.

I try to practice my yoga outside whenever I can. It would probably even be nice to do in the snow, but I can never get myself to overcome my hatred of the cold to try. I have a big backyard and usually have my cat and dog outside with me as I do my daily practice in the shade of a big tree near the rusty orange creek that runs along the road behind my house. If it’s rainy I will sometimes still do my practice outdoors, just under my small covered porch. It’s just big enough for my yoga mat, and it’s a little slanted towards one side, but I like to think it’s a nice challenge for my balance. Last night the memory of one of those days practicing on my porch as the warm rain fell hard just a few feet away took my breath away. What a beautiful moment! A moment that was just for me. A moment that I can return to whenever I want. I let the sound of that far off rain soothe me to sleep.

It made me wonder how many other sweet simple moments I have stored somewhere inside my head. I had never really thought to look for them before. I am excited to start searching. I also want to start actively collecting these moments. When I discover myself in one of them, I want to practice using mindfulness to store as many of the small details as I can so that I will be able to reproduce it for myself later on. This life is so strange, isn’t it? I’ve inhabited this mind for over 27 years now and I am still discovering new ways to use and enjoy it. Do you practice visualization? What kinds of things do you like to visualize?

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Reconnecting with Intuition

Recently I have really been grieving my separation from my own inner compass, my intuition. It feels like I can never calm my mind down enough to hear it. And even when I meditate, all I find is a deep silent sea within me. I have been feeling desperate for guidance. I have been lost for so long now. I am finally ready to trust my intuition. To surrender to whatever is has to tell me.

This meditation was exactly what I needed. The 30 minutes seemed to dissolve in no time at all. I was so immersed in the beautiful imagery that I was invited to create in my mind. I never wanted to leave that sacred garden temple. I felt so safe and at peace with myself. I felt protected. I was able to delve deep within my own heart, to a gorgeous structure. Within it, I found a very old tree growing through the center of the room. Above there was a opening in the ceiling allowing light in. I laid myself down on top of the trees crooked truck and wrapped my arms around it. I pressed my cheek into it’s rough bark, closing my eyes. It was so peaceful, so rejuvenating.

Then a version of myself appeared in spectral form from the light above. She took my head in her hands with so much love. Kissed my forehead, before pressing hers against it. There was so much joy. So much trust. So much understanding. I asked her questions and she silently gave me the answers that a part of me had known all along.

As I reluctantly left, I felt renewed. I felt myself carrying along a tether to this place, so that I could easily find my way back again. And I will surely go back. To continue to strengthen this connection to my high self. To find refuge and rest within. I am so grateful that I found this video guide yesterday. I am sharing it with you in the hopes that you may also discover something beautiful with it.

Meditation Metaphor

Imagine the mind as a flowing river. Normally we, ourselves, are submerged in the rushing waters of our own minds. Trying desperately to keep our heads above the current. We are swept along with every passing thought. Unable to separate ourselves. Meditation is a chance to step out of that raging river.

When we sit down to meditate, we have stepped onto the bank of the river. As we nestle in, the sunlight begins to dry our dewy skin. We align our backs with the trunk of a sturdy tree. We imagine our own roots sprouting from the sits bones, anchoring us. Finally finding solid ground after being carried by the cold rapids for so long.

As we watch the river in front of us, we notice leaves falling from the tree and landing on the water’s surface. These are our thoughts. Fragile and fleeting, the river carries them off quickly. As we meditate, our job is not to stop these leaves from falling, nor is it to catch them or collect them from the water. We simply observe them. We watch them land on the water, floating gracefully for a few moments before the current carries them out of sight. We don’t need to identify the leaf or discover why it fell. We don’t need to stop the flowing waters. Just watch. Just breathe. Feel your new roots grounding you, anchoring you in place. Secure as we watch the river of the mind and it’s many thoughts.

This is one way to visualize meditation. It isn’t about control. We can never hope to control our minds. Meditation is about observing. We are watching ourselves. Noticing what it feels like to exist. Maybe as we watch, realizing some of our own patterns, and maybe not. Just giving ourselves permission to sit on the bank for awhile. To just breathe, just watch, just be. It may even be helpful to visualize yourself at the side of a river as you meditate. Whenever you notice yourself getting tangled in thought, bring your mind back to the image of the water. Imagine the thought falling as a leaf into the river, and watch it go. We are not the leaves of thought. We are not the swift waters of the mind. We are the one who watches.

Photo by Rachel Xiao on Pexels.com