Last night I looking for the ocean. Well, I wasn't really. It was a bizarre dream I had. I was with someone. Who it was, I couldn't tell. I just knew it was a friend. We were on a journey to find the ocean as I have said earlier. On our way we found 3 birds that were tied up. They looked as if they were dying. I felt very sorry for them, so I released them. The birds flew away and were instantly renewed and alive as if they were never bound. Soon after, I discover that a hungry, vagabond child had tied up the birds so that he would have something to eat.
That is all I remember. I am always kind of curious about things so I looked up the meaning for the symbols in my dream...
ocean- spiritual refreshment, tranquility, renewal
bird flying- represents joy, harmony, ecstasy, balance, love, spiritual freedom, psychological liberation, sunny outlook on life, weight being lifted.
birds tied up- feeling locked up, unable to express self, and loss of freedom.
child- represents self. childlike qualities and unfulfilled hopes. shows a need for growth and nurturing.
three (the three birds)- signifies life, vitality, inner strength, completion, imagination, creativity, energy and self exploration. 3 also stands for trilogy such as: past present future
journey- signifies profits, self discovery, progress
to have friends on a journey- signifies delightful and welcomed change and harmony
Saturday, August 25, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
For the first time in my life at the age of 35, I feel alive. In fact, everything around me seems to be more alive. I have opened up my senses to the world around me. I hear music down deep in my soul, and I notice the beautiful scent of the weeds in a field. I am hypnotized by the deep love and tenderness a mother shows her sick child. I have realized that I should not try to change this world around me to become more like myself, but to enjoy and accept the beauty in it. It is this belief that causes me to feel alive.
I have begun reading a book called, "Even the Stars Look Lonesome," by Maya Angelou. This book so far, is becoming one of my favorites of hers yet. Several of the passages have special meaning to me, perhaps in a unique way than the author intended.
One of the passages that holds special meaning to me is one in which she speaks of sensuality. When I read it, I think of being alive. It reads:
"There are some who are so frightened by the idea of sensual entertainment that they make even their dwelling places bleak and joyless. And what is horrible is that they would have others share that lonely landscape. Personally, I'll have no part of it. I want all my senses engaged. I would have my ears filled with the world's music, the grunts of hewers of wood, the cackle of old folks sitting in the last sunlight and the whir of busy bees int he early morning. I want to hear the sharp sound of tap dancing and the mournful murmur of a spiritual half remembered and then half sung. I want the clashing of cymbals of a marching band and the whisper of a lover entreating a beloved. Let me hear anxious parents warning their obstreperous offspring and a pedantic pedagogue teaching a bored class the mysteries of thermodynamics. All sounds of life and living, death and dying are welcome to my ears."
I have begun reading a book called, "Even the Stars Look Lonesome," by Maya Angelou. This book so far, is becoming one of my favorites of hers yet. Several of the passages have special meaning to me, perhaps in a unique way than the author intended.
One of the passages that holds special meaning to me is one in which she speaks of sensuality. When I read it, I think of being alive. It reads:
"There are some who are so frightened by the idea of sensual entertainment that they make even their dwelling places bleak and joyless. And what is horrible is that they would have others share that lonely landscape. Personally, I'll have no part of it. I want all my senses engaged. I would have my ears filled with the world's music, the grunts of hewers of wood, the cackle of old folks sitting in the last sunlight and the whir of busy bees int he early morning. I want to hear the sharp sound of tap dancing and the mournful murmur of a spiritual half remembered and then half sung. I want the clashing of cymbals of a marching band and the whisper of a lover entreating a beloved. Let me hear anxious parents warning their obstreperous offspring and a pedantic pedagogue teaching a bored class the mysteries of thermodynamics. All sounds of life and living, death and dying are welcome to my ears."
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