Dear Friend and Reader:
Looking at the world right now is like trying to keep your eyes open in the midst of a sandstorm. You might need goggles, you might need a mask, you would need to find your way to a place of shelter. There’s not a lot of time to consider what you want to do.
How do you plan your own life when the future of the world seems to be so imperiled?
How is it possible to find any peace, when we’re confronted by so much turmoil? How is it possible to have faith, in the midst of so much chaos and darkness?
How is it possible to look ahead, when there is so much we need to respond to, to make right, to repair?
And in the midst of all this, there’s the question of the future.
By Jeanne Englert
I am a deer using my whiskers to experience the beauty of a chair. I call my pet bear so I can feed him. He is far away but I can see him coming. I have new eyes that allow me to see into the depths of the sea. A clear and determined voice awakens me in the night, calling my name.
Wisps of dreams gathered in the morning, all palpable experiences of the night. In sleep we touch the other dimensions beyond the time and space of waking life.
I set an intention for a dream that would help me understand dreaming as vision questing. In the remembered dream, I start on a journey along a dirt road, continuing down an almost vertical descent to the banks of the Hudson River and driving north through the waters of the river without a road.
The surrounding landscape is as clear as the waters I navigate.
Within the dream, I recall a similar path of getting to the ocean when I’m in San Francisco. The navigation in the dream is treacherous. I clutch the steering wheel for dear life, never sure if I’m going to make it. I am exhausted yet exhilarated when I awake. The dream is filled with uncertainty at every juncture but ultimately leading me to forge my own path through the waters of the dreamscape.