Monthly Archives: July 2013

Dream Big: Dream with G-d

What does a woman do when it’s Saturday night and suddenly, for the first time in longer than she can remember, she’s alone?  No Ben.  No baby.  Just the summertime sound of the neighbors socializing over margaritas in their adjacent backyard.

And the sound of silence.  In the quiet that permeates the house I find I hear odd things.  Like the hum of the fridge.  And the sound of my own breath.   I bask in this quiet although it’s tinged with loneliness.  In this pause I didn’t know I needed, I still miss my boys.

I eat a simple meal and leave the dishes unwashed.  Let the water run, fill the bathtub, and slip into the comforting warmth of it.  I want to listen.  G-d as I lay in this water and stare at my toes, I want to offer up my life to You once again.  All the dreams in my heart.  Dare I to dream all the dreams that You might dream through me?   For the first time since I can remember, I believe that You want me to be me.  Just me.  It’s a really wonderful feeling.  To think that You just like people for who they are.  Does anyone out there besides me ever struggle to lay hold of that?

If there’s anyone out there reading and you ever struggle with being OK with yourself, I want you to know that I do too.  I have for most of my life.  But I think it’s a terrible waste of ourselves.  I think if we could only grasp how much we are loved and how much we have to live for and how unique each one of us is, we’d be unstoppable.  We’d be boundless. Forces of love and light in a cold dark world.

So here is my heart’s prayer, here in the wonderful quiet of this lonesome weekend: dream BIG. Sketch and write down what’s in your heart.  Dream and invite G-d to dream with you.  Invite Him to breathe life into you so you dream again.

My dreams come from G-d and G-d has the power to accomplish them.

–Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

Dreaming with G-d is like play ... I learn a lot from Aaron's unbound laughter

Dreaming with G-d is like play … I learn a lot from Aaron’s unbound laughter

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Artist: Adolf Mentzel (1815-1905)

Artist: Adolf Mentzel (1815-1905)

Have you ever felt like you were on a train and the view is great but suddenly it starts moving so fast all the colors of the view swirl together?  Now you see life like a Renoir painting.  Everything is bright but out of focus.  The pace of change makes it hard to put boundaries around time and space.  You can’t name what you see anymore.

The train of my life has been moving.  There’s beauty in the view, but I haven’t felt like putting words to it, and I certainly haven’t felt good about airing my thoughts in this semi-public arena of blogdom.  I have wondered, should I close this down?  Shall I simply declare (or, let my silence say it) that I’ve abdicated What Color is Love?  I don’t know what color love is anymore.  It is a blur of grays and reds and vermillion, aqua and ultramarine and phthalo blue.  The colors are vivid but my tongue sticks to roof of my mouth.  No, my keyboard sticks to my fingertips.  I feel dull and insignificant.  I feel alive and happy.  I feel energized and tired.  I feel sexy and invisible.  I feel like a woman.

I say this last bit because I think there are seasons of our lives as women that are particularly hard to make sense of.  Although we specialize in multitasking, in having all four of life’s burners going.  Although we’re accustomed to preparing the exquisite “meals” of life with every pan in the house.  Nevertheless there are seasons where the juggling act truly feels like I’m a circus performer and I can’t sort out the thoughts and emotions of my head.  In this chaos how can I try to put words into the blogosphere?

This isn’t a lament.  I like being a woman and I like my life.  But I’m not sure if my voice is on this fast-moving train where the colors blur and the contours disintegrate. As if my voice were a thousand meters behind and I want to call to her and say run, you can do it, catch me!  I’m here.  With my voice back in my body I’ll be able to speak kind and comforting words to my soul and maybe then, to yours too.

But today, I break the silence and surrender to the speed.  Because today is Sunday.  A world at rest.  The train is in it’s station, blowing off steam.  My eyes blink and I can focus.  The sun glows warm and the sea sparkles.  My child sleeps while canvas curtains billow softly.  In the calm I recollect myself and feel my voice again.  Inside my chest, she’s a bird come home to the nest.  Later, I will ask her softly, Voice, what lands did you discover, what truths do you now see?   Shhhh…rest now awhile.  Take time.  Tomorrow you can tell me your tales.


Self portrait made with my fingerprints on vellum

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