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My head is still alive with all that I took in at the dream conference, and I continue to keep my promise to myself. The one where I will journal all of this deep inner work I am doing. But what I love now, what I am so excited about, is my new realization that there is another realm there. Here. All I need to do is keep my senses open and I will find answers beyond what I thought possible. There have been other times in my life where I have known. And worked wide open. But those times always fade back into the ethers and the day-to-day busy world has gotten bigger and louder than that knowledge. Psyche, she is so patient.

 So I have enlisted journals. A library of journals: One for my dreams. One for my sketches. One for my poetry. Journals galore now sit upon my desk. Lovely little books that I have collected over the years, some gifts, some happy puchases at one favorite art store or another. I am realizing just how much I've come to turn to the computer for everything. So to put a pencil in my hand and bring it to these journal pages is like welcoming an old friend. I know that it's been too long because my hand tires easily when I write.

And I notice that there's no longer a callous on the middle finger of my right hand.  

Comments

[Vickie]

haha . . . this made me check the spot where my callous used to be.

[jaykaym]

and my handwriting has deteriorated!

[naomi dagen bloom]

Good to hear that mystical mellowness again, Marianne.