Category: Denise

(Sunday, May 26, 2018) moon waxing gibbous Scorpio / tarot Maat-Justice

Waking dream: it is the Memorial holiday. I have spent the last two full days gardening in my bare feet (connecting with bare feet to the electrons that flow from the soil is called “earthing”). When I was weeding the native wolf berry bushes at the back of the yard, a tom turkey stood 10 feet from me, observing, in full-feathered splendor. I love a blog by a cardiologist at the Cleveland Clinic confirming that “earthing” benefits the heart and reduces free radicals and inflammation. I feel like I have been on vacation for a week. Peaceful and calm.

Night time dream: I remember few details of a dream that seems to last all night. My emotional memory equates the dream with the life review that occurs after death. The strong impact of chemically-dependent humans on my life stands out. It overwhelms the first 40-50 years of this incarnation. When I wake up, the Badfinger song “Baby Blue” from the final episode of Breaking Bad plays in my head (Guess I got what I deserved / Kept you waiting there too long, my love / All that time without a word / Didn’t know you’d think that I’d forget / Or I’d regret / The special love I have for you / My baby blue). Chris just saw Badfinger at the Medina Ballroom. I think about the huge shift in personality Walter White (Breaking Bad) experiences when his body fills with cancer. Baby Blue is the crystal meth Walter creates and sells. I have been told Lola’s brain tumor will alter her behavior. Chris’ brain tumor changed him completely.

Day notes:

My friend Amy gave me a book by Rich Martini called “Flipside: A Tourist’s Guide on How to Navigate the Afterlife.” Rich was in the same class at Northbrook High School in Chicago as Chris. He was mentored by Dr. Michael Newton, as was Eric Christopher. I wonder if they know each other.

The Maat card in my deck shows the Egyptian goddess weighing an ostrich feather and a human heart on the scales of justice. The principles of karma.

(Wednesday, May 16, 2018) waxing gibbous moon Gemini / tarot Dreamer

I stand in the grassy front yard of a comfortable retreat center. The atmosphere is muted: twilight, peaceful. I find, or am given, a single hand-rolled cigarette. Everyone who enters the very large wooden house smokes one stick of tobacco. I fire mine up and step through the front door.

The spacious rooms are occupied by dozens of loving, female, angelic beings. It feels like the highest moments at the Glastonbury Tara-Beltane ceremony, and far beyond! The spiritual, aromatic essence of blossoming pink flowers fills the air and every fiber of my being. I am saturated by beautiful, soulful pink. Pink, pink, pink!

I know it is important to fully breathe in my tobacco smoke but I also do not wish to violate the breath of those who have finished their cigarettes. It is vital for us all to inhale exactly one dose of our own smudge. I hold the flame close to my side and walk in a focused way through the main floor. I exit the back door of the house, entering a circular, stone-filled courtyard where a roughly-carved bird bath holds the remains of a leafy, half-smoked cigar. I sense the presence of the ancient male gnome who left the unfinished tobacco. But he is not visible to my physical eye.

Day notes:

Yesterday I came home from work and said to Chris: “It’s the pink time of year!” Our two magenta crabapples have burst into flower. The neighborhood is bathed in trees in full bloom.

This dream has a cloud-like, otherworldly feeling. Peace pipe. Sacred tobacco. In the pink.

Message on my morning tea bag: the voice of your soul is breath.

(Sunday, May 13, 2018) new moon Taurus / tarot 8 of swords

I am assigned the task of painting dozens, maybe hundreds, of large images that are about other people’s dreams. The dreamers are associates, not close friends. I have a crazy-short deadline to complete this huge project: Tuesday.

The illustrations are on sheets of paper about 2 feet tall by 3 feet wide. The initial renderings are white-on-white. I have to go through each painting with the dreamer and demonstrate to them elements of the artwork that appear the same but actually are different. I am required to use red, black, tan and white paint to define the imagery. The timeline feels impossible. And I don’t have enough paint to finish the job.

I rush to a craft store but they are going out of business. I beg with them to let me grab a few tubes of paint. The owner, a stern older woman, refuses my plea. I quickly head to a second small art supply shop but they don’t have the colors I need. Their inventory is very restricted.

Desperate, I decide to try The Home Depot. They have a tiny craft department with large tubes of acrylic paint. I run into the store and am greeted by two friendly young men. One recognizes me as the woman whose clay sculpture was shattered in shipping! I am amazed by this strange connection. They have the exact paint colors and sizes I need.

Day notes:

This last month has been the most stressful time in the 13 years I have worked at Ergotron. This week I have multiple deadlines for a huge print project using a color palette of red, black, white and grey. I am working with two young designers named John. John B. is guiding the project with very tight control. Type A personality. John R. is struggling to complete a series of drawings that were supposed to be done two weeks ago. This affects my deadline in a wicked way.

I bought a new, larger carry-on today for packing my clay pieces for the Paradise Valley art show. Now I just need some bubble wrap from The Home Depot. I took a workshop last weekend at Northern Clay called “Pack Like A Pro.”

Clearly this dream expresses my anxiety about the upcoming week. But I think it is also directing me to stop being dictated by other people’s dreams and motivations. Time is running out. Follow MY dream of a creative life. I felt so at home last week at Northern Clay and yesterday at the St. Croix Valley Pottery Tour. My favorite artist Jenny Mendes remembered me. She pulled me aside and shared some new pieces fresh out of the kiln. A great blessing. Her work is obviously highly spiritual, yet she doesn’t promote that. Like any clay artist, she is down-to-earth grounded. I bought this four-eyed bear from Jenny.