The Story of Your Dreams

"You carried the story of your dreams with you when you came into this world. They were written on your heart in the world beyond this place where miracles are birthed in the magic that is real and the mystical that is always present. You carried your dreams with you into life and all that matters now is you become the story of your dreams unfolding."

I wrote the quote above in freefall writing yesterday. It was my first time back in the studio since Monday. Before the fall.

It has a certain poetic drama, doesn’t it? Before the fall.

Like Adam and Eve leaving the Garden of Eden. Or the Roman Empire before it fell apart.

Coining it to describe the mirror that fell on my head is me taking great poetic license and an exaggeration. It is obviously not of the same significance but, everything is relative. A small thing in the big picture can be a big thing in our own experience.

Yet, so often we attempt to minimize our experiences. To devalue their impact.

Years ago, when I was spending a lot of time in groups of women healing from experiences of the really painful ‘love (that was actually abuse) gone wrong’ kind, women would often say when someone recounted their story, “I know what you’re going through. Of course, my story isn’t as bad as yours…”

The fact is, every story we tell has value – it isn’t good or bad — it is of value to our experience. And when we tell it in a way that opens doors and windows to our heart, we release ourselves to create a new story. Diminishing our own story limits how wide the doors and windows of our heart can open.

For me, a bump on the head that slows me down is a big thing. It’s a call to wake up and pay attention to my body. To ‘get into my body’, not ‘out of my head and into my body’ but to be all of it, head and body. It is one unit, one being, one ‘thing’. There is no separation. no dividing line that says, “This is your head job. This is your body’s work.” It is all one.

And here’s the thing for me. When my body is hurting, I like to power through by pasting a smile on my face and ‘carrying on’ as if nothing is amiss. I let my mind override whatever my body is feeling as if my mind is in charge.

It’s not.

The body and mind are all and one of the same unit. They are all of me and I need all of me to be present, working as a wholistic being on creating substance to my dreams — the one’s that were written on my heart (and in every strand of my DNA) before I was born.

So… This time, I’m taking a different tack. I’m taking care of all of me, first.

See! It’s never too late to do things differently.

Which is also why I headed into the studio yesterday afternoon – it was R ‘n R.

There is something that happens when I sit down at my worktable and get present to the unknown, the invisible, the muse’s urgings I let appear what is calling itself into being.

In those moments, I know there is no separation between mind and body, heart and soul. I am all present. All in harmony.

And that’s exactly what happened yesterday.

I opened my “Learning to Fly” art journal and found myself exactly where I was, as I was. Present in the flow of all that is when I stop trying to compartmentalize my body from my head and acting as if my body’s trying to play a con job on my mind.

When I get present, my dreams get real.

17 thoughts on “The Story of Your Dreams

  1. Good morning Louise
    I love this line- β€œThis is your head job. This is your body’s work.” Each of these things need to be recognized as one being. The compartmentalization tendency is so strong and even useful at times. But I’m thinking this morning the lack of acknowledging it and just carrying on is not. Maybe we want to tell ourselves, That was very brave, now get it together! Both sides. ;))
    Thank you for the beautiful art and the thoughtful words. ❀️

    Liked by 3 people

    • Thank you Lilli Ann — and yes, it is definitely a strong tendency — particularly in our western culture where we treat ‘the head mind’ as more important than what our body intuits, knows, carries.
      And yes — there is a lot of that telling ourselves we gotta get it together — and still, I know that when I listen deeply to my body, art and words spill out effortlessly – when I get caught up in my head job, it’s a real struggle.
      Love this conversation — thank you my friend! ❀

      Liked by 2 people

  2. If you want a great title for a novel: The Girl Whose Mirror Fell On Her Head

    Perhaps a wayward gal with a tormented twisted history – then amnesia caused by that clunk to the noggin’ – she forgot all about her past tumult, started a completely new chapter of life without past-loves luggage bogging her down. Then, she enjoys a brilliant career – painter/writer-spy-diva-artworld sensation, she globe-trots with the literati as cover for CIA skulduggery …

    Or maybe it’s just a short story.

    Anyway – it’s a wonderful world today, check out Iz :

    Liked by 1 person

    • Such a beautiful version of that song. One of my favourites. And yes, it is a beautiful world out there today. Bau and I went walking at 7. Watched the geese. The squirrels and trees, the river flowing.
      Quite beautiful.

      And so sad that he left this beautiful world so young.

      and… I LOVE the idea of a globe-trotting dive engaging with or uncovering… CIA skullduggery! πŸ™‚ Tee hee! — you know when I was younger I wanted to be a spy right? I even got investigated in my teens for applying to go to university in Moscow — when the CSIS agent came to see me I asked him if he thought I was a spy — that would be exciting I told him — he did not think I was as funny as I did! πŸ™‚

      Like

  3. Wonderful to wake up and smell the coffee, so to speak.. Sometimes it takes a clunk on the head to sit up (okay, maybe not too fast as you might be dizzy πŸ˜‰ ) and pay attention.

    Not related but kinda yes. I have, on more than one occasion, told a person that no, their broken leg is not lesser than my loss of child. When you are in your moment, living your thing, it can be all-consuming and that’s okay. There should never be comparisons, I say.

    Liked by 1 person

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