Healing in Broken Times

It is 3:35 a.m. on the fourth night in a row that I have been awakened by lightning and thunder.  The big dogs have come slinking from their couches into the bedroom, much to the resistance of the small ones who are curled snug in the blankets.  Quieting frayed canine nerves at this ungodly hour under flashes of unearthly light could be a real drain.  But it isn’t.  It is the hour of the wolf after all.  The hour for intuitive work and self knowing.

Almost every night of storming I have dreamed of healing.  The first night I dreamed that I had awakened in the bright morning light and that the windows had been left open.  The sunlight covered my face in a wide ribbon ending at my chin.  I blinked at the brightness of it and had my first waking thought “MAN this is bright!  I could be sunburned right here in this bed!”  Then I noticed that the light was cool and soft in spite of being incredibly bright. Surprised and comforted, I closed my eyes without having moved at all and went back to sleep.  In the morning when I woke up it was dark in the room.  The bedroom blinds were drawn so tight that morning had to struggle to prove herself through the cracks.  There was no way I could have been bathed in sunlight or even moonlight through such windows.  That is when I realized it must have been a dream.

Tonight lightning woke me from another dream.  In this one I was waking from days in a coma.  It may even have been months.  I was not in a hospital, but somewhere beautiful surrounded by nature.  Two of my close friends were standing vigil over me and were overjoyed to see me awake.  The rejoicing at my return was so beautiful I got caught up in the joy of it.  And I was hungry.

These dreams coincide with a real life healing that feels nothing short of miraculous.  I have been so full of joy in my waking life that it makes no sense to me!  Over the past year I have battled dark thoughts and feelings, the depths of which I have never seen in any dark period before.  But quite suddenly this seems to have come to an end!  It was on Sunday night that I had my first fit of giggles sparked off by my God daughter throwing the funniest tantrum because she was trying to beat her playmate into wanting to play with her.  It’s ok – she’s three.  I laughed so hard that the tears were running down my face.  And then yesterday afternoon, in a training session hosted by one of my team that I had requested weeks before, on wry word became the most debilitating fit of giggles I have had in years. As the tears rolled down my face I found myself astonished at the well of bubbles, joy and mirth I had stumbled upon inside myself.  Against all odds, the odds that are killing people every day in a world that seems to have gone crazy, I have found healing.  It has been a revelation from God or the Universe and it has struck as bright as a bit of lightning.

Even now my front yard flashes an unearthly bright, giving glimpses of trees soaked to the skin on the slope now slick with sky water.  I settle under the soft microfibre blanket patterned with leaves and the word “Blessing” all over it and watch the show.  I am flanked by my four dogs, finding comfort in the closeness.  The rain washes the roof in a steady drumming heard inside the cabin like an army of marching faeries.  More and more time passes between the flashes of light and the air splitting sound – a sign the storm is moving on.

God heals and reveals in his own time.

MY HAPPY LIST – Things I have been doing differently this past two weeks…

  1. The CoolingListening to A Course In Miracles on Audible.
  2. Allowing myself to get angry with my ex boyfriend.  I’ve been avoiding anger, and maybe by doing so slowed my own healing.
  3. Spending three hours on Skype with one of my best girlies in Canada.
  4. Running frequently and longer and longer distances.
  5. Reviving this Singlestreaming blog.
  6. Reading my abandoned manuscript for the book I began two years ago.
  7. Ballsing up and having some difficult conversations in my life and in my work.  Turns out they weren’t that difficult.
  8. Voicing a heart-felt response to the killings in the world.
  9. Building my tribe with lunches and coffees and yoga classes.
  10. Finishing a new painting “The Cooling”
  11. Stocking my fridge with food regularly.
  12. Giving away the beer in the fridge that I bought for the ex.  I don’t even drink the stuff.
  13. Long baths and yoga classes.
  14. Reading my favorite book of poetry before bed every night.
  15. Choosing to let go of “low-life” love.  You know, the kind where they are doing the best they can where they are but it isn’t even a drop in the bucket of what you need or deserve?  It’s a term my girlie on above-mentioned Skype convo and I came up with about her ex cheating on her and being mean.  That love was probably the best he was capable of, but definitely not worthy of her.
  16. Calls with one of my favorite people in Jamaica.
  17. Sending stupid jokes to my brother in Canada and having him spit out his drink.
  18. Writing my morning pages (practices from the Artist’s Way) in the room that gets the best morning sun.

A Brain-Blush

Attention Readers!!
BUSHLETTE HAS MADE A VERY IMPORTANT DECISION!!!

I don’t think I ever want to get married!

Image

I might be able to attribute this decision to “daddy issues”, but I think I will end up as one of those women who, at age 48(24 years from now), has been with the same man for 8 to 12 years, but won’t ever get married. I’ll call him my “partner” because after being in an 8 to 12 year relationship, “boyfriend” will sound too juvenile. Because I will refer to him this way, people will think I’m a lesbian, which he and I will always take in good humor as we spend our nights drinking dry wine from the east of Bolivia and staring sideways at abstract paintings.

I will wear long flowy skirts with delicately embellished flips flops that I will acquire on my vacation to a quaint, untouched Caribbean island. My scarves won’t match my outfits, and I will learn how to sew. As of now, I can’t knit, but I will try to learn in my spare time (when I’m 48). I will knit hideous scarves and sweaters for my family and closest friends. As ugly as they will be, these tokens of love will be appreciated because of how much they love me. I will have no idea that my knitting is horrendous…but those are the kinds of friends and family members I will be lucky enough to have.

Hummus will be one of my closest allies! I will eat a modest diet of completely healthy foods that are good for me but taste like cardboard…not because I should, but because I’ll like them! Okay…maybe I won’t like all of them, but most of them! I will like most of them!

I look forward to adding to this list! These thoughts were recently extracted from the tiny part of me that generates the most ridiculous, and most honest ideas that make my brain blush.

What makes your brain blush? 😉

xo
Bushlette

City Dreams

Saturday morning sunshine woke me.  But I wish I’d blocked out the light.  I DID NOT WANT to wake up.

In my dream just before I woke up and rolled over on the softest bed ever, somewhere in New York City.  There was a duvet and loads of pillows covered in white cotton sheets.  The light was filtering in through a balcony door somewhere – I couldn’t see it from my nest but I knew it was there.  This was my room.  And I was not alone.  Through one half-opened eye I could see to my right, asleep on his stomach, was my life partner.  A well-built man with back muscles relaxed under tightly stretched nut-brown skin, he promised to be at least two inches over six feet tall standing.  I got the sense of comfort, security, belonging and strength from the moment.  And then there was a knock on the door.

In came our housekeeper to give him something important to sign.  “Come in” he grumbled from his position, head in pillow.  “We’re not doin’ anything.”  That one made me smile inside but I was too sleepy to laugh.  But I did draw the blankets up around my chin, snuggling deeper down.  She came in, gave him a pen and a piece of paper, he signed and she left as quietly as she’d come.  When she was on her way back to the door he turned to me and drew me into his space and we both went back to sleep.

And I woke up.

That day I decided it was ok to dream of love.  There is no shame in it and nothing dirty about it.

The dream followed me for days until I met its equal.

I woke up this morning to Lola licking my hand hanging off the side of the bed.  She spent some time on my fingers and started pulling at my whole hand with her two front paws.  My dog loves her hind legs so much I think she thinks she’s human.  She follows my every move when I put on my makeup and brush my teeth so that I’m sure if she tried she could do it herself.  Next she’ll want me to teach her to drive!  And so she took my hand in her two hands and tried to coax me off the bed.

But I didn’t want to wake up.

I had just walked into my Aunty’s house in London to tell her that I had found the perfect house!  Before that moment of waking, I had trecked all of the South East’s suburbs looking for a home for me and my two dogs.  It needed to be reasonably near to the train station, reasonably near to a park or a nice walking route, and reasonably near to my Aunty.  I had found the perfect flat for the three of us to live in and was going to take my photos to Aunty for her opinion.  And then Lola woke me up.  To reality again.

I am dreaming at night of a new life, travelling to new cities in my sleep.  There is a growing itch spreading past my toes and my ankles, telling me it’s time to get on a flight.  And so this morning I booked my flight to New York.

Ten years ago I was 19…

Time is ticking to the 29th anniversary of my arrival, hale, hearty and hungry, into this world.  This is probably bigger for me than my 30th will be because it is the tenth year anniversary of my adulthood.  Ten years ago I started university in a country far away, I started drinking, I fell in love for the first time, and I began to make important life decisions like where I should place my faith and what career I should pursue.

Over the past ten years nothing has gone to plan.  My 19 year-old dreams were so pure, so untainted, and my will to fulfill them as they were was so strong and my wisdom complete.  But I learned that no matter how much I tried, no matter how resolved I might be, no matter how hard I worked, things would never happen the way I expected them to.

A man’s heart plans his way,   
      But the LORD directs his steps. 

Proverbs 16:9

In the last ten years I almost died twice.  My first love and I fell apart, and so did the second love, and the third and so on.  My body lost its lithe athletic look in illness and I have fought daily to get it back.  I have seen loved ones die, have tested my own faith, and have battled bitterness.  In the last year alone there have been many mistakes and much sadness.

I wonder, what would my 19 year-old self think of who I am today?  Would she be disappointed in where I am?  There are things she would be proud of, certainly.  My financial independence, my career changes and successes, my choices in faith.  But would she be proud of my visits to bitterness?  My frequent alcoholic beverage intake?

Over the next little while, as the day approaches, there is a lot of self-examination to be done. What can I do to make that 19 year-old proud of me?  Where have I surpassed her dreams?  Where have I failed her?

I owe it to her to get it right – it is her life too.