Last night I felt so close to crossing the threshold between this realm and dream world.
The evening was warm, but I pulled a green sweater on just before leashing up Joey. I had an early dinner, so we walked without hurry. The street seemed darker than usual, my eyes rested at half mast. In the comfort of the sweater, my body was the same temperature as the thick air.
The smoky sweet smell of roasting marshmallows floated out of someone’s kitchen window, but we saw no other signs of neighbors.
The night was far from over. We had a party to go to, but I was dragging my feet. It was Tuesday and I didn’t want to dress for an outing. But that walk dissolved a bit of reality and I embraced the option to sweep into dreamworld.
Eventually we got dressed, I wore pink silk drawstring pants and a long peach button up. Elevated pajamas.
More and more, I’m lacing reality with fantasy. Pairing patience with consistency.
I think this has been the summer of slow opening, but opening nonetheless.
Celebrating the small things, the accumulation, rather than the big splash.
Nothing right now is easy to track in milestones. But I’m enjoying watching the shifts ripple into one another.
Some days it feels like collecting the dust and sifting through it for a single fleck of glitter.
Remembering to define the space, rather than the self.
Believing in the unseen tides of magic that course through each of us.
We create what matters. The magnification occurs from within, until we can’t no longer contain it within the sphere of our being. Here, our interconnected nature prevails.
That’s why sharing is the greatest human act. It is as much our responsibility to receive as it is to give. We must ensure our exchanges are balanced.
What part of my spirit is whispering now? So often it is the guiding force that has always been there. I’m listening in the open night.
Too often we blink at eternity, but stare at the past.
I will say these days the unknown feels more loving.
Looping myself into these robes, feeling them caress my skin for the first time all over again.
Allowing doors to close, allowing more to open.
Usually, inspiration won’t ask to make a cameo. We have to just lift the curtains and turn on the spotlight. This way we coax it out of the corners.
Dreamlike, we persist.
See you next time.
xx
James
p.s.
My books are now open for Personalized Meditations.
You tell me what’s going on, I create a piece just for you.