We are all exhorted to follow our dreams... to reach with all our power towards the things that are calling to our hearts. We are called towards our longings like Odysseus to the Sirens.
Inexorably lead towards the things that we were made to reach into.
And that is as it should be. Our longings and callings are the things that lead us to our unique and precious contribution. If you have been around me for any time you would have heard me talk about how i believe that each of us arrive here on this beautiful confusing and remarkable planet replete with the unique impression of the Divine stamped into our cells. Our longings are the things that call us home to that Divine stamp. Our yearnings are the things that cause us to move towards expressing our unique version of the Divine into the world, which is, from where i stand, exactly why we are here.
The world needs us.
So back to Odysseus.
Odysseus knew that the Siren song was beautiful, he wanted to experience it with his being wide open. No wax for his ears. And yet, wise Odysseus knew that the song of the Siren was dangerous.
I use this metaphor not to say dreams are dangerous. There is enough in our overculture to squash our dreams and desires without me having to write about it.
No, i am writing this because i want to discuss how reaching into our dreams doesn't mean that harps will play, unicorns will frolic and we will be lead by celestial hands into bliss. It might be like that for some people. I am not one of them.
In my experience, dreams and the reaching into them often rises our shadow like nothing else. Reaching into our larger selves, by its very nature, shatters our smaller selves. The lids of our lives can fly open and the contents of our well packed cupboards get flung about.
Reaching into dreams is chaos making, heart cracking, soul shaking stuff.
This does not mean it is wrong.
It means we need to be prepared for the journey. I don't think i had talked about this aspect of reaching into my dreams with anyone before. When i reached into one of my biggest dreams, that of going to Mysterium, Dr Estes's workshop, realising the reality of sitting at the knee of, learning from the woman who had mothered me and millions of women around the world, was at once miraculous and terrifying. All my glory and all of my shit rose up to meet me. I was overwhelmed and felt at once at home and unworthy. It was the most conflicted and confusing experience. It took a lot of courage and huge amounts of kindness from some amazing women to stop me from running away.
This side of it i realise it was all part of the experience of reaching deep into my dream. I could not be in that immense a light without my shadow rising. My dream held my fear up to be seen.
I guess we sometimes follow dreams that feel hollow and yucky. I have had a few of those. I think the flavour of them is a combination of oversweet with an acrid aftertaste and not long after the feast, the ache is still there in your gut. For me the dreams of my soul feel like a banquet of a cacophony of flavours that somehow satiate, nourish and enliven.
I want you to know this, for us to talk about it so that you know when your dream feels like brambles and quicksand and you worry you are about to eat a shit-sandwich you might need to seek support of loving humans and helpers and use your discernment to see whether or not it is the presence of the Mystery shaking your foundations or just an imitation of that beautiful terrible.