Can it be I never signed out the last time I came here? A little spooky. A phantom Julie has been here all this time, waiting for the next posting.
Andrew invited me to go with him to the Shambhala Meditation Center (almost typed "medication" center) and we have gone twice. Today, after a lengthy sequence that started with a little chanting, then sitting meditation, then a little walking meditation, sitting, walking, about three rounds, Andrew and I were able to gracefully exit during the walking portion and then to chat with a couple of other attendees. (The meditation, while interesting, was also entrapping - we were in an endless, timeless cycle as if of death and rebirth! The session started at 9 am and could go until noon, with people coming in and leaving throughout.)
The conversation turned, in a most natural way, to dreams. The other two people we spoke to got little sleep at night (4-5 hours). They both were interested in chronicling their dreams and trying to understand the deeper meaning or weirdness. Eric spoke of a dream where he was driving on a road that was reminiscent to him of LA - tall palm trees lining the sides, except that in place of palm trees, there were violent tornadoes spinning close to his car on either side, with cars and other items that had been sucked into the vortex. I asked him how he was feeling during the dream, and he said he wasn't fearful as much as amazed, and he was driving through these tornadoes. He used to journal about his dreams starting from middle school, partly to understand them and partly to practice writing.
Andrea, who is vegan, said she dreamed about a donkey that was tied to another strange animal that was different animals in different sections. Because they were tied to each other, they couldn't move. She walked up and cut through the tie with her hand to free the animals.
Lately, I have been hand-writing some dreams and other information. I still am sporadic about writing, undisciplined. The problem is I am not deriving immediate value or understanding that this process will be important. I was arguing a bit with myself during meditation: But what if it's important to ME? Isn't that good enough? Apparently not. I noticed the inner self-bickering and smiled inwardly; ok, a little outwardly as well. My mind must play tag or make up some kind of game or drama, lest everything get too quiet. I might start drifting to another place and feel less solidly caught in ego, and then where would my poor mind be? It can't stand to be left alone, and it knows enough to understand it cannot travel there with me. It's much too bound up with this physical existence.
A nice noticing, during this meditation, that I did not need to get upset or anguished over my usual problem I have been worried over lately, I realized that in the time and space of the meditation room, nothing was happening to cause that emotion. The origin of the upset was things that happened in my past, or in the imagined future; not in the present. It was so relaxing to be able to be silent, and still, and calm, moment to moment to moment.
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