In a recent dream, I torched my child hood bedroom by building a bonfire on the floor. I put the fire out just before it burned through the walls. When I looked over the room and the damage done, it was decimated, the ceiling was a sea of hanging shreds, the walls were husks, it was burnt to cinders.
A part of myself has been incinerated. I am filled with rage.
Conventional dreaming is dead, a desperate attempt at salvaging a corrupted patriarchal system. Old dreams, what I am specifically referring to, conventional dreams, those of the naive youth. The dreams conjured up in a child hood bedroom, those of marriage and children a future of “deserving” it all to work out well. A future of environmental and economic stability. All tainted with denial when I look back on it, a superficial training to make me docile and weak.
I had many dreams in that bedroom, prophetic dreams and dreams of far off fantasy lands with animal people. I visited many worlds in my dream states.
I am tired now. Tired of the struggles of the last years but more prominently I am fatiguing from the of the willingness of our American culture to choose ignorance. There is a fake lacquer painted on the surface and people know it looks like crap but we do not say anything. We are trained to be polite and essentially lie. Totally exhausting, not only do we have to deal with it on a daily basis but we also have to pretend that it does not wear us down completely, doubly exhausting.
This is an insidious conformity that strangles us. Even the basic constructs of our language are a restriction and a limitation. The letters of the alphabet and the construction of grammer force people to express their self in only one linear way. It is a system that restricts us in ways that we can not even comprehend. We have forgotten what we are and how we can operate. The choices that we possibly can make.
“We know what the animals do, what are the needs of the beaver, the bear, the salmon, and other creatures, because long ago men married them and acquired this knowledge from their animal wives. Today the priests say we lie, but we know better. The white man has been only a short time in this country and known very little about the animals; we have lived here thousands of years and were taught long ago by the animals themselves. The white man writes everything down in a book so that it l not be forgotten; but our ancestors married animals, learned all their ways, and passed on this knowledge from one generation to another”
The Carey Indians of Buckely River, 1943
It is a time for a revolution an act of subversion, a subtle shift in your vibration, a tilt in how you view the world around you.
Can you connect with the greater ecosystem that surrounds you? There is a type of magic that you can adjust your frequency and to tap into, it is here and around you right now.
It is a matter of believing in it and acting on it. There were many different indigenous cultures that had this magic in everything they did and everything was alive and powerful. The magic went away when the white man came to destroy their cultures. The magic just did not work anymore because the power that was the belief system was disrupted by something new and other.
How would we reverse this phenomena and transcend the disjunctive perimeters of the limited believe systems that is currently squeezing us right now?
Tune into the rhythms of consciousness that surround you. Listen to the music of the worlds around you, the birds, the trees, the plants growing, the animals vibrating, they all whisper to you to you; return, return, return to a conscious state of transformation.
Sometimes the framework have to be destroyed in order to be resurrected, an incredibly painful process that we rightly resist from a state of paralyzing fear, but sometimes we have no choice. Sometimes, it has to be burnt to the ground, so that we can see clearly again and rebuild responsibly..
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