The end of a week, in which I tried to address some issues at my place of work, and won another small battle over bad-tempered tantrums which seem to erupt from me when I’m stressed beyond a certain point.
All the human world is in transition, now – from the people of North Africa and the Middle East and Wisconsin USA feeling their power as a collective, to the turn of the ice in the air and the slight reddening of the leaves which tell me that the time of Rushing Dark Water is approaching again.
Time to start some new connections and to let go, again, of what serves me not. Time to wonder at the power of the plant communication which very nearly knocked me off my feet midweek – I was tending a neglected office plant at the time – and time to heed those vivid dreams of walls of ice and flurries of snow, and strange hybrid human-seals.
Time to marvel, too, at the human capacity to feel deep grief on behalf of another, while managing their own with much less effort. Time to question why we’d almost rather throw ourselves in front of the headsman’s axe than see a loved one hurt- and time to draw a deep breath of enlightenment when we realise that this is a universal human trait.
Time to congratulate myself on a growing ability to detach from the petit irritations concomitant on The Dream, and to widen my perspective almost at will: seeing not a noisy, trance-walking throng of mall-zombies but rather a collection of distressed and unawakened people wandering the polished corridors of Sandton City in a vision-haze of glitter and mirrors, and brightly polished hopes held out for prospective buyers.
Time to be deeply in Love with the Life I have chosen to be entangled in, this time around, and time to consider the options when I make the transition out of the dream again-time to choose again, like a player in an almost interminable game, where we know that in the end, when each round is over, we will review, and laugh, and weep, and marvel at the experience this strange experiment lays upon us.