Diving Deeper

The age of dreaming has come

The karmic dust of angels is everywhere.
The secret side of things is open to us.
The time of innocence is gone.
The age of dreaming has come.
Ben Okri

Do you remember your dreams?  If you do, or if you don't, does it matter?  Is there a way in which your dreams might make a difference to those around you, and to the world you live in?  What does it mean to live a dream?  These are questions I am asking myself. 

Dream recall is a relatively recent experience for me, and coincided with my introduction to aquatic bodywork around the millennium.  Awake-dreaming in the water while receiving this buoyant form of movement therapy, seemed to give access to my night dreaming world as well.

Water, I found, could trigger an altered state of consciousness in which as a willing receiver I was flooded with images, perceptions, feelings, and sensations that made possible profound shifts in my being.  I recorded these and encouraged my clients to do the same.

Water and the Soul

In mythology, water has been associated with the unconscious.  Archetypal psychologist, Jung said that when the spirit becomes heavy it turns to water; that the way of the soul leads to water.  And one of my favorite poets of soul Mary Oliver concludes:

Nobody knows what the soul is;
it comes and goes like wind over water.

Some of us are more watery, more dreamy, more soulful perhaps than others, and many of the ancient healing methods considered the contribution of this archetypal element to an individual's make-up. My friend Jonathan DeVierville considers that 'Water is to the Body, as Dreams are to the Soul'.

Jung's theory, says Barbara Bowen, 'suggests that our psyches are born connected to a deeper collective "ocean" of awareness from which our personal dreams flow. Like tributaries, dreams deliver ancient motifs that play a mysterious role in humanity's evolution of consciousness. ...

'No matter how clarified, puzzling or outlandish their language may be, our dreams are trying to tell us something. They often require us to dwell for a time within ambiguities, to bathe in cool pools of uncertainty, before we profess to know what they have in mind.'

Jungian psychotherapist, Arnold Mindell, described the 'dreambody', the part of us that does not conform to collective materialistic definitions, but hovers somewhere between physical sensation and mythic visualization when we surrender to the water.  He wrote:

The dreambody is released in every deep, sentient body experience.  These experiences often dissolve the boundaries of time, expanding it to infinity, almost abolishing its existence.  Or they condense fate, drawing life times together in minutes. Dreambody: The Body's Role in Revealing the Self, 1998. p. 283.

Exploring dreams

I came to think of my warm water pool as a portal to the unconscious or the dreamtime where my dreambody revealed herself.   In the past year, personal circumstances kept me from my pool haven.  But interestingly, seven significant night dreams have offered me powerful water imagery.

Four water-associated dreams in the previous years, and since I encountered aquatic bodywork, have had aspects to them which make them seem very significant parts of my personal mythology and perhaps also of the role I am playing out in this lifetime with respect to others.

I've been exploring different ways to relate to these dreams and to weave them into the fabric and understanding of my everyday life. My partner Joe, whose own work, Astropoetics, inspires a creative interface between personal imagery and astrological cycles, is my fellow explorer.

As we progress with these studies, there will I hope be much more to share that is useful to others on this soul journey.  Meanwhile, on this weblog I will be writing about some of the personal insights gained so far.  The vulnerability inherent in this does call for some courage.

Dreams seem to me to be Neptunian creatures of the deep and easily mistaken.  They cannot be approached head on but they ought to be attended to respectfully, otherwise they turn from shy messengers into fearsome monsters. 

In the years since I began aquatic bodywork, I have faced a few monsters myself, and cannot say that this is an easy path.  This is what led me to consider the shamanic implications of this work when conducted in a manner that resembles journeying, diving below the surface of things (see below for a link to more on this).

To benefit from our night dreams, we must allow that they have valuable messages to convey to us; it also seems essential to adopt the ritual of setting the intention to remember them and to have the discipline consistently to record whatever we recall without judgment.  

In the same way, to dive deep into the self through aquatic bodywork, seems to require an open attitude and commitment to the process as it unfolds.  As far as I know, no-one has seriously explored (and recorded) the dream world made more accessible by water.

Watership: birthday thoughts

Wild Rabbit's Dream

Out of the labyrinthine
underworld warrens
came a lone wild rabbit.
It was dawn and a glow
on the farthest horizon
touched half-open eyes.

A blur of dew clung
to the grass glistening.
As so many water bells
this night moisture sang
of Moon and the vortex
in which she had slept.

As wild rabbit became
accustomed to new light
she saw mirrored in each
droplet faces of memory.
Like tears they shone
with love's compassion.

Wild rabbit's thoughts
were moist as dreams.
But by now Sun rose
flushing gold on the hills
burning off ancient mists
of many past sadnesses.

She watched the sky turn
into an upside-down ocean.
Wind blew swirling clouds
moving sacred mandalas
across the open blue face
of a smiling girl child.

The child sang with joy
a good morning song that
ruffled wild rabbit's fur.
Her bright nose twitching
she tapped her back foot
and leapt out into the day.

(by Sara Firman, aka Sulis, 2007)

Fire in the East

though the yellow bird
  died the sun still rises
    in the east and the India
      of my dreams wreathed
        with marigolds is the body

of a moon goddess losing
  her blue-blind shoe to
    dogged innocence and old
      gods seeding their progeny
        in the red wars of proud lions

a sure resurrection of winged
  dreams flying over cold waters
    carrying rain clouds to dry soil
      planted with babies or beans   
        fire in the east is the true gift

(by Sara Firman aka Sulis, 2008)

My mother notes that I was due on July 4 and born on July 14, 1959 in London, spanning America's Independence Day and the French Revolution's Bastille Day.  A rebel perhaps but  a reticent one - apparently I resisted that birth and have resisted a few other strong but unavoidable calls. 

When I was looking for two poems that might reflect the watershed birthday I am celebrating today, the ones above stood out.  They were actually written in 2007 and 2008, respectively ,but they were looking forward to the morning of something hopeful.

It's curious that they follow two posts about my father since he is linked with both of these too.  He read Watership Down to my siblings and me on a memorable holiday in New Zealand - I specifically remember staying in a hot springs motel at Rotorua for one reading.

Both poems were also inspired by my recent explorations of astrology as a path to self-understanding, under the tutelage of my new partner Joe Landwehr with whom I will spend this birthday and to whom I owe more than I can say.

Birthdays are Sun times: I have Sun in Cancer, Leo rising, and Moon in Scorpio*. 

Here is a personal astropoetic image for that watery rising sun: the sun's warmth lifting up billions of tiny water droplets to become soft humidity in the air which then moves further up to gather together as clouds in the atmosphere above.  Then rain.

Another image is of a sunrise over the ocean, as in the Brazilian film set in Rio de Janeiro 'Black Orpheus' when two little boys take solace and find renewed hope in their own ability to draw the sun up by playing the song dead Orpheus taught them.

In a sense, perhaps I too am drawing up my Sun by playing the song that my  losses have taught me, including the loss of my Leo-born father (Jupiter trine Sun in my natal chart).  I now need to break away from family psyche and honor that wonderful legacy at the same time.

To be in balance, my Sun requires me to move water energy (particularly emotional and creative energy) outward into some form of expression.  This is a natural part of who I am and something I have struggled with through both denial and shame.  No longer.

An intriguing dream reminded me that yoga is one form of self-expression that activates my Sun; there is a Sun-line going through India on my astrocartography map.   Just after my father died I went to India for several weeks to study with BKS Iyengar. The second poem hints at this yogic connection.

Writing has been another form of expression.  Following my Moon and it's companion Neptune, it calls for a form of Wyrd (runic) Magic through which what I write solidifies and becomes the truth I must live.  To the extent that I am bound by the past, the ambivalence of these magical planets haunts me.

These two poems, tell of my Sun and Moon and the ever-present influence of Water.  They draw me up from the underworld of past pain where I have been for the last few years.  They call me to the frontier of the half-century of my life.  They ask me to sing another song of hope.  This is my birthday wish.

* for astrology folk Sun in 12th, Moon in 3rd.

See also this link on my aquatic bodywork website about yoga: The judicious use of natural forces

Snakes (two poems by Sulis)

Growing up in tropical countries and now living in the Ozarks (southern Missouri), snakes have a certain presence in my life.  They also occur in my dreams.  The first poem below was inspired by one such dream along with a discussion with someone who feared snakes and the discovery of two snake skins in the same week (one in water, one on land) back in 2006.

The second is a healing poem written to express some anger and sadness I was feeling (2008).  Both, in fact, describe the repression and expression of emotions which in many of us (and certainly in me) are often stored in the abdominal area. 

When these feelings are held down over long periods of time, years perhaps, they can have physical and health consequences.  A recent series on the website describing my aquatic bodywork practice considers this from a personal and professional standpoint.

Here is some of the symbolism of snakes and serpents which can also be found in my personal references:

• umbilical cord, joining all humans to Mother Earth
• Earth mysteries of renewal, rebirth, regeneration
• immortality as depicted by circles and spirals
• guardians of underworld or messengers between the worlds
• guardians of temples and other sacred spaces
• associated with water especially the primordial ocean
• connected with deceitfulness and vengefulness
• poison and medicine - expanded consciousness, divine intoxication
• wisdom, healing and creation

Snakes

I dreamt
that snakes covered
my lower body
or were they
moving out?
I knew they would
not bite me
if I remained still
in perfect calmness

A brave woman
I know fears
snakes
but draws them
to her
These snakes
were inside me
She would have
been terrified

Awake I found
a snake’s skin
floating
in water
Rippling life
though translucent
flawless
I kept it
between glass

But I yearn
to translate
the strong clutch
of my insides
into seething chaos
into undulating pulse
To see diamonds
in my dreams

To be fearless

Hysteria

I know how
the black snake felt
when she fell
from the steamy rafters
of the homemade sauna
on to the slippery shoulders
of an oblivious man.

Her heavy looped length
like a witch's tresses
broke his certainty.

The cup of water hissed
and evaporated.

His heart flailed
while she flashed
dark lightening.

Interior her hysteria
like hot vapor
escaped into the crack
of a violent night.

Water dreams

Soul speaks through our unconscious and through our dreams.  Dreams of water may be particularly potent.

Last summer at an astrology conference I had the pleasure of meeting one of my partner Joe Landwehr's friends, author and professor of Counseling Psychology at the California Institute of Integral Studies, Greg Bogart.  We attended a workshop he presented there on dreamwork and astrology which was refreshingly interactive and open-ended, as dreams themselves are.

This year Greg published a book called Dreamwork and Self-Healing: Unfolding the Symbols of the Unconscious (Greg Bogart, Karnac Books). I am currently enjoying the insights it adds to my own attempts to dive deeper into dream life.  I find it interesting that, until I began aquatic bodywork, dreams were rarely accessible to me.  Since then, my remembered dreams have brought strong messages.

I'm still learning to work with them, as they usually challenge me to face something that I am not facing well in my waking life.  As Greg writes:

'Dreamwork is a personalized yoga of the unconscious, a direct link to inner truth and guidance. ... Like any spiritual practices, dreamwork can awaken powerful energies within us.  We need to be prepared to respond with full commitment to each dream's provocative message.' p. 287

It seems to me that dreams don't ask for an interpretation so much as for a participation that extends into our waking lives.  I've felt that I often failed to heed my dreams, especially the warning kind.  But recently, I've begun to consider instead that they've prepare me to deal with things as best I can having already rehearsed  or anticipated situations.  Dreams are learning experiences, full of vibrant imagery.

While I am reading Greg's book, Joe is reading Conscious Dreaming: A Spiritual Path for Everyday Life by Robert Moss (1996).  One of the intriguing ideas this author puts forward is that there is no real difference between our nightly dream life and our daily waking life.  Moss suggests we can follow events in our daily lives with the same sensitivity as we use for dreams.  We are always dreaming.  Greg gives some personal examples of this in his discussion of synchronicity.

Not surprisingly, quite a number of my dreams in the last decade since I became a 'water quester' have included water.  Below I have given one-line summaries from some of these to illustrate just how varied they can be.  I have sometimes used the imagery of dreams to create poems, and have wondered about further elaborating them in healing stories.  This might well deepen the insights they offer.

Here is what Greg Bogart says about my favorite element:

Many dreams contain imagery of water, another archetypal element of nature.  We dream of swimming in the ocean, riding waves, moving a great speed across the water, dissolving into water, riding on rough seas, or watching large tidal waves coming in.  Each of these is an archetypal situation.  We dream we're far out at sea, or heading toward shore.  We swim through stormy tempests, wade in shallow water, test the waters, get our feet wet, nearly drown, float blissfully, immerse ourselves in water like baptism, or barely keep our heads above water.  Each of these images has different connotations.  Water dreams portray our present inner condition, our current emotional experience, and the state of the unconscious.  p. 103 Dreamwork and Self-Healing: Unfolding the Symbols of the Unconscious by Greg Bogart, Karnac Books

Some water imagery from my own dreams

Here are some examples of the variety of ways in which water may serve as a metaphor for life challenges from my own dreams.  I have indicated circumstance but not interpretation since this is a personal endeavor and also one that I notice shifts and changes as my own consciousness evolves.

• attempting to reach a concrete island from a bleak coastline via a walkway of stepping stones where the sea is getting rougher and strange vortices are appearing (dealing with early difficulties in a relationship)

• a beautiful healthy cat beside a pond attempting to rescue another cat under the water who is ill and drowning (just before a beloved cat died from a disease involving water on her chest)

• a tsunami that prevents me from returning to my parent's pacific bungalow and takes me to an Escher-like tower of red brick (on an anniversary of my father's death)

• following my ex-husband's girlfriend over the edge of a Niagara-like waterfall on mattresses, being deeply submerged and unable to surface (after learning of betrayal)

• finding myself unable to protect special and unique water creatures in a valley from piglets on the shore who will later rip them apart (around the time of my divorce settlement)

• while on my way to India, landing unexpectedly on an island in choppy seas, to witness the retrieval of an abused dead baby (beginning my recovery from divorce; the next dreams continue this theme)

• a battle begins which seems to involve sponges, wielded by my sister and mother, as weapons

• moving through a strange rubber water conduit with soldiers, and then trying to rescue a boy drowning above a sunken city

• standing on a high gallery with stairs [resembling those in my marital home] down to a beach and being unable to rescue my cat from an incoming tsunami

• wanting to join up some water hose in the front yard of an old Victorian, determined to do it myself, but not having the right connections

• while cleaning up a wetland area/ island having weeds flung on my kitchen windows and my rubber boots strung out of reach above the island

Just as I was completing this post, I came across this poem by Rumi which seems to describe the way in which waking and sleeping, the visible and the invisible, are part of the same unending fluid of life in which we are all immersed.  It also offers consolation on the emotional journey that water often initiates.

Everything you see
has its roots in the unseen world.
The forms may change but the essence
remains the same.
Every wondrous sight will vanish
every sweet word shall fade.

But do not be disheartened.
The Source they come from
is eternal, growing, branching out
bringing new life
and new joy.

Why do you weep?
That Source is within you
and this whole world
is springing up from it.

The Source is full
its waters are ever flowing.
Do not grieve; drink your fill.
Don't think it will ever run out.
This is the endless ocean

                   Rumi, Sufi Poet and Mystic

Read more about water and dreams in this earlier post: The age of dreaming has come.