Some dreams are intensely private, and one learns to hold such dreams close, like guarding a temple. But this one carried an urgency to share it, especially among women.
I share it here, because perhaps it may touch you as well. The dream was simple; I was shown a way to help in a difficult situation. I was told to focus my attention on the future, on the greenness, which I could barely see at that time. This greenness is a woman’s sacred relationship to life and to the divine.
I was told that I needed to focus with all my strength, and that this unwavering attention would allow something to happen that otherwise could not happen. Otherwise, I would become lost or overwhelmed by what is going on in the world.
I quietly held this dream, returning to its instruction day by day even as the outer situation remained bleak. Over the months, I began to learn about it, for instance, how this ‘greening’ would diminish when I was distracted, and how it came alive when I was fully engaged in life with this inner awareness.
Recently I shared my dream with a trusted friend who is the caretaker of a hermitage in Sonoma County. People from every spiritual tradition come there for silence, solitude and rest. She wrote:
Dreams truly are prayer, aren’t they? They often prepare us for what the days will ask of us and provide the reassurance and presence we need to remain in our core and focus on the future. It reminds me of the wisdom, “This too shall pass” and of Julian’s “All will be well”. St Teresa wants to join us too: “Let nothing disturb you, let nothing frighten you, all things are passing, God never changes.” How easy to say, yet calling forth such deep surrender and attention. Greening energy will hold me now too. Our earth and all her people need us to welcome this and let all parts of life be touched by it.
Over the next few months, I drew a parallel to the work that we do in our weekly program for unhoused women. Six women sit quietly after a brief silent meditation. Several of the women note that the fragrance from the fresh mint and lavender in a vase is calming.
In this quiet atmosphere, I offer a writing practice and invite the women to write freely from a prompt, Once there was a stone. Write freely, I say, and allow the words to arise. We hold a space for a deep linking up that takes place. After five minutes, I say they can read aloud if they wish, and we will simply listen. One woman, a mother of a teenager and recently homeless for the first time, says she would like to share what she just wrote.
Once there was a stone. It was heart shaped with a line through it. I felt it was indicative of my heart. The line seemed to me like glue. The glue kept my heart together and reminded me that my heart is not in two pieces, broken, and though I had pain, my heart was still whole.
Is this not unlike my dream, where we hold the holy essence of life, the greening, so that it can nourish and permeate our lives?
Last week, at a different shelter where we offer our Finding Strength in the Quiet circles, I ask the women who came, to say what they might hope for in our time together. A young woman, her black hoodie pulled low, covering part of her face, says, “I’m here because I need to be quiet.”
Another young woman experienced difficulty quieting her mind, so instead of participating in the writing practice, she thumbed through my Listening Circles: Seeding Life book. At the end of our meeting, she leapt out of her chair and walked over to me, the book open in her hand. “This is so powerful! I didn’t know this was possible. I’ve never heard this before!” She showed me what she was so excited about. It was a quote from Dr. Rita Pitka Blumenstein, a Yup’ik Elder:
I had a vision, that the ancestors told us to heal the world. When we heal ourselves, we also heal our ancestors, our grandmothers, our grandfathers, and our children. When we heal ourselves, we also heal Mother Earth.
For the first time, she found a reason to heal. Perhaps this will give her strength to move forward, to care for herself.
I circle back to my dream. Maybe this is a work that we can do together. Each of us alone, yet woven together through a devotion to serving life.
Recently I wrote to an organization that helps carers for children. The volunteer wrote back with a list of useful information and resources. In the beginning of her email she wrote, “You are not alone.” And at the end, once again, she wrote, “Please know that you are not alone in this journey.”
This greening that we each can hold is not an abstract idea. It grows in our breath and in our prayers, in our resiliency and in our hope. Most definitely, we are not alone in this journey.