7th December, 2018 Friday
Dream Kite, damn. I woke up in the usual wee hours and had a really good grip on the really interesting plot of the last story my dream river had presented. but as is sit to write this late in the day because it is evening and my beverage is a really good Sav Cab from Walla Walla, Wa, USA, I am sad to say, the plot is lost. It was a good one too. And as I remembered it I thought, “I sure will remember this one.” But it left the brain cells. Am I wrong in assuming that that is a good sign? Doesn’t it mean that I have resolved succesfully the issue in my psyche which sourced the tale. Afterall, the Bible is a collection of stories which should mirror anything human experience can vomit. I have not read the Koran or the Upanushads or the Talmud but I assume the approach in all these theological “this is how you resolve any issue the way we approve” manuals is to present all the humanly possible anecdotal stories.
My dear-for-decades therapist only now converses with those souls who have contact with their higher selves or know they should.
I am here with my dogs and family honoring the mandate of Mother. Once I birthed my two daughters, I had no more autonomy. Its a wierd thing. Mothers do not get to separate from children they have birthed. Their children have to separate. Aware mothers lose the center of Self if they had it before they birthed children from their center, their center afterwards exist in their children. The kids get to fuck off. Even Dads get to fuck off. But Moms do not.
We can choose to be off duty. But those of us who are hard wired for the Job we cannot find any breath for our life which doesn’t send some to theirs.
I write this with an awareness that I love women who either have not had children, or they have and for any number of soulful reasons need not be connected to their spawn.
So “Love Actually” started playing as I started writing tonight. My choice.
I am so struck by how naive we were is 2003. That the romantic haze of the Post World Wars had really deluded me as I approached at least my first marriage with a man whose grandfather had been one of the brainchildren behind the things that ended WW2.
Oh shit . I had not woven these things together.
There’s this thing about being an American. Somehow, we are cleaner moralistically from the rest fo Western Civ because we started later.
I am so dirty.
Ta.
Tea With Me 