Flight of Sandcastles and Day Dreams with A Song in My Heart

I created this collage thinking of the child we all carry within us that lay on sand or green grass staring up into the sky seeking clouds that made pictures of our minds. Bird feathers, sea shells, sand, acrylic, an eternal organic heart out of wood on the left, a sand castle in the middle, flights of fancy fanning out providing a safe place for the child to day dream in.

As I was the only child in the world that had ever done this, I told my mother of all the fantastic pictures I had created out of the clouds, to which my mother replied , "Dear, you were day dreaming. I use to do that when I was your age.". Deeply disappointed, I realized I wasn't the creator of day dreaming after all! The first ego disappointment for the child within.

Daydream. It was love at first sound for me. Daydream. From then on I would create a daydream out of whatever I could until I discovered I could actually create something viable out of a day dream. Sometimes the day dream stayed a day dream, safely residing in a sandcastle built in my mind. Those that became a reality sometimes were better off as a daydream. Others were better than my daydreams; my boys were even more wonderful than my daydream of the children I was going to have, my husband more complicated, loving and less placid than my knight in shining armor day dream. My life messier, richer, more painful and wonderful than I ever could have day dreamed.

My daydreams had the awkward teen stage. They took on a hue of self doubt, fear of rejection, and the doomed landscape of secrecy. I shared them with only a very carefully chosen few and even then experienced some ridicule. They were elevated to new heights of emotions by the songs like; California Dreamin', The Mama's and The Papa's, When a Man Loves a Woman, Percy Sledge, Come Back When You Grow Up, Bobby Vee and The Strangers, Society's Child, Janis Ian, Baby, I Need Your Lovin',Johnny Rivers, Hurt so Bad, Lettermen, (It Looks Like) I'll Never Fall In Love Again, Tom Jones, adding a delicious angst to the boy that got away daydream. All rich fodder for the day dream factory of a teenager of the 60's culminating with my first broken heart, singing to Barbra Streisand singing, "What Now My Love", a hundred times, alone in my father's living room. Music and day dreams went hand in hand were inseperable in my day dream landscape.

At this stage, my day dreams were introduced to poetry and creative writing and in turn took on a whole new level of existence.

My daydreams had the blossoming bridal stage. The daydreamer had fallen in love with love expressed in the man who had won her hand in marriage. Songs like My Love, Paul McCartney and Wings, Danny's Song, Anne Murray and Me and Mrs. Jones, Billy Paul, fed the embers of new love and a bright future.

And so the daydreams became daydreams of their own. Children were born, my daydreams took on an aura of a spiritual quest, art and the enrichment of friendships. And now in my 57th year, I feel nostalgic and grateful that the day dreams of my childhood have become an intricate part of my being and reality. One of my favorite memoirs is Sidney Poitier's, 'The Measure of A Man'. He wrote this about his day dreams, "Daydreams were guaranteed to please. They had it all over facts and reality when it came to getting groundwork done and foundations laid. However, daydreams were burdened with what in years to come would be revealed as their major weaknesses. Every ounce of the hard, grueling, exhaustive work necessary in the conversion from promises made to dreams fulfilled was the sole responsibility of the dreamer."

I still day dream. I will always daydream. In creating my collage which inspired me to write this blog made me realize how important music, art and memory is for me. Their engagement pour emotions that found their way into my daydreams whether writing, creating art or having heart to heart conversations. I thank the Ultimate Creator for all the artists, writers and musicians that have enriched our lives to new heights of the daydreaming experience!

The Edge of Awareness

A canvas of accidental beauty can be found in the most unexpected places. I took this photograph in New York while eating lunch in the Village. This canvas was just to the left of me and for some reason it called itself to my mind's eye.

The shapes, colors and accidental composition relayed memories of Europe, of walking in orange fields with the intoxicating fragrance of orange blossoms in the air and the promise of delicious, juicy fruit.

I look at it now, in the middle of the night, in Monterey and I am drawn to the Edge that the basket of oranges is leaning against, allowing it the space for my Awareness to contemplate in.

The Edge. It creates a distance. An impostor of going forward and not looking back. It is the emotional strangulation of coming to age with all the fears, guilt, self loathing. It flies in one swell swoop between my solar plexus and throat forcing a deafening silence of a wing's motion into place.

The Edge. It pushes the cerebral being of one into a dark closet, not only locking the door but stuffing any logic that has gathered over time into the size of a keyhole. The only connection to reality is the expected order to step off into the abyss of a never land where a sense of surrender will invite the reticent guest of well being.

The Edge. It marks my horizon and rears its one way order to step off and take the plunge into the unknown. A plunge that realizes a safety net of spiritual tools, unseen but gathered over time. As birds gather threads, scattered hair, small paper, and sticks to create upon their wings a feather for each day of living nestled into a flight where the unknown meets the familiar.

The Space for this Awareness expands and pushes one's cerebral logic through the door, kicking down any fear and somehow, once again, allows the Edge to disappear into fertile fields of dreams.

A lovely bright sunny day in the Village, sharing a delicious lunch with two friends, my camera's eye captured by a basket of oranges leaning against an edge and I am reminded that all I have to do is feel myself transparent so nothing pushes itself against me, keeping me away from the miracles of life, but most of all allowing myself to surrender and take the plunge over The Edge.

Collage by Iris Brewster

I woke up to a gray Monday morning , the garbage trucks echoed my reluctance to the demands the day had already made; retrieving the sunny disposition within me to make it the best day ever. It may be like a Pollyana but when I decide that my day will be the best day ever magical things happen. Today, my suuny disposition was playing hide and seek with its own shadow.
I received an e-mail from one of my sheroes, a very dear friend who has known me since I was nine years old. In it she wrote, "Letting go and letting God doesn't always get the garbage into the trash bin." Immediately, my shadow found my sunny disposition! How true and how simple it is to balance the shadow with the lighter part of my self. How many of us refuse to step back and give ourselves the space to feel the shadow because we are too afraid that the shadow hides an edge that will trip us into an oblivion. It takes a great deal of courage to stop and confront our own grey day edges, step over them and give our selves the light we need no matter what is facing us. I know so many wombmen in my life that have this courage without being fully conscious of it. Whatever challenge or demand faces them, my sheroes confront each and every one of them with out any expectation of acknowledgement or reward, just the sigh of relief that a care or concern has been abated without a world or two crashing around them. My sheroes do have magic bullets filled with compassion, love, concern and spiritual generosity. Letting Go and Letting God is a partnership that allows them to surrender the garbage to a Higher Purpose knowing that the garbage bin is only a surrender away.

In Awe of The Light of Awareness

Today, I saw the sun shining brightly upon the myriads of its receptors. The green of leaves and grass, the plethora of colors in the summer flowers, blooming or spent. The stainless steel of cars and trucks, high wires and cement all responding to it in their own unique way. I am in awe of the light of awareness experienced by the space I can provide to it all.

Each one of us has a special gift of awareness providing the space for the world to settle into. How we inject our soul's language or our heart's desire into our awareness creates a unique sense of awakening in ourselves and in those who enter it. They expand the space of awareness with their own interpretation and unique reception of it.

My Awareness whispers, "Just write me, that is all I ask. Write me in your eyes as you behold the luminous wonders of every day life. Write me upon your words of kindness and compassion as they flow warmth upon those around you. Write me in your heart as it embraces memories, happy or sad. And write me in your soul as it expands its ethereal being to embrace the visible as well as the invisible."

And so I begin this blog, in awe of the light of awareness and how being present and aware enriches our lives it can also facilitate our daily living into a promise that even though life may not be the party we hoped for, we might as well dance while we are here.