recurrence

When I was a teen, I had recurring dreams... recurrently... if that's a word. So much, in fact, that I can still remember the dream I had whenever I faced large projects I wasn't sure I'd properly prepared for. And if you don't realize this, a control freak is never convinced that they've properly prepared for anything.
Why did they stop in adulthood? I guess you'd have to consult my subconscious. Maybe I felt like I had everything under control, so there was no need for a dream to work out the puzzles created during wakefulness. Maybe I had gotten into such a rut that I HAD no puzzles.
A few nights ago, I dreamt that I walked into my backyard. The raised bed containers were intact, but my garden was gone. All the plants had been plucked out by the roots and discarded who knows where. As I surveyed the rest of the yard, which seemed fine, I could see just beyond the fenceline where my neighbor's property began. My neighbor's backyard looked like he'd won a contest to have it landscaped. All grass was gone. All structures were gone. Red clay remained. I stepped inside the neighbor's house, which in my dream had become white and mult-storied. There were stairwells everywhere, and young kids of all ages hanging from walls, lounging against doorjams and essentially making racket. Think Never Never Land. They all seemed to know me. They felt familiar, but I couldn't identify specific kids.
I woke up around that point and realized something. I'd had this dream before. Small details had changed. The last time I had the dream, the landscaping destruction had left my home intact, but had taken over the whole neighborhood, like a backwards development project where the workers built the homes before grading the lots or paving the road. And when I'd gone in the house last time, all the stairs were the same, but the children ran from me, hiding in an odd tree growing at the center of the home. I spent the rest of the dream searching for them.
What conclusion would I draw from this? That the uprooting of my life is approaching, and it's getting closer? None of the destruction happened in my yard, but it was more focused this time, and just one house away. Change approaches.
Last time, I never really saw the children. This time, they were all within reach. This time, they were larger. Are the children the symbol of potential? New challenges and dreams? Dreams develop.
I suppose some who have powerful associations with home, those who'd be devastated by the loss of place and things would find this dream troubling. All the destruction. Surely it's the sign that your subconscious is upset. Maybe you should reconsider.
Thing is, I remember no anxiety in my dream. Just lots of steps. Lots of bare land, waiting to be filled with plants and trees. Possibility. That is what my mind is acknowledging. I am clearing the landscape for possibility.
To celebrate reaching my savings goal, I made the first purely luxury purchase I've made in a long time. I got a 16GB Zune HD. Yes, I was taunted by my geek friends. Anyway, I wore it this morning as I walked Mollie. I listened to NPR as they interviewed astronauts at the sunset of the 30-year space shuttle program. While reporter Scott Simon thrilled during a trip on the astronaut's simulator, he asked Cmdr. Mark Kelly if he was going to miss the program and the Endeavor. His answer was so... so right:
It will be sad to "full stop" on the runway for the last time and watch the Endeavor get carted off to a museum. But it's important to do that, so we can move on and do other things. And we can't do both.
You can't hold onto a house and move forward. You can't make a fresh start with a sack full of belongings. Moving on to Better doesn't always mean letting go of the Bad. Sometimes, it includes letting go of Okay and Good and Doing Fine as well. What does your heart ask for? If you tell it to hush when it asks for Better, perhaps you should stop. It will find ways to keep asking until you listen. Maybe through recurring dreams. Just keep in mind that things and houses and jobs will disappear and transform. What remains are human connections and the love you feel for people who had an impact on your life. When you locate those people, you should never let them go. The rest is just matter and particles. It can be reconstructed.

--Laura

On My Street

I saw a hawk on my street.

I was leaving the subdivision for the grocery store. My milk had gone sour, and I needed a few other things so I decided to take a trip. And that's when I saw him.

About 4 houses down, standing in the front yard was a hawk. Dark and mottled, I think he was either a broad-winged or a Red-tailed. I can only tell you this after looking him up, so I really have no idea if he had a red tail or not. I didn't have my camera.

He was standing on something though. He had just caught lunch when I slowed my car to stare at him. He didn't look away. "You can't have my lunch," he was telling me.

And oh was he gorgeous. Dark plumage, even on his chest, which you don't see every day.

And there's a thought I had about this. Did I notice hawks before today, or was I too busy with my own thoughts? I'd like to think I would notice such things. But he existed before today, and I don't remember the last time I saw one. In fact, I don't remember seeing one in my neighborhood, so what does that mean?

I like to come up with fancy observations that make sense of the world around me. I'll let go of that this time. I saw a hawk, and for me, that's rare. And he was gorgeous.

I'll just enjoy it.

---Laura

I Believe in Community

I got a great email from my dad's cousin yesterday. She said she was going through boxes, and had found lots of Burke papers - birth and marriage certificates, First Communion documents, stuff like that. She wanted to know if I'd like to have it.

Of course I did.

I returned her email with a chatty one of my own, and among other bits of news, I shared some of my latest goals with her. I find that expressing my goals has become easier these days. When my priest asked what had been going on for me lately, I told him as well. There's a calculated reason for this. I believe in community.

When I was younger, I used to have a negative opinion of community. I viewed them as oppressive and restrictive, viewed the people as nosy and judgmental. Certainly, some communities can be. But there's a subtle line there, and it's worth noting. When you let a community tell you who you are, they will control your life. But when you tell a community who you are, they will support you instead. And in fact, if you share with a community not only who you are, but who you want to be, whenever possible they will help you get there.

When you're a kid, that means the adults in the neighborhood will buy the worst tasting beverage imaginable from your lemonade stand and declare that it's fabulous. When you're an adult, that means they encourage you, tease you, quiz you, and hold your feet to the fire while you develop your plans. Their persistence can sometimes even substitute for your own, reminding you that your goals aren't all in your head.

In fact, just the other day when I confessed to a friend that my goals were big and scary, she did just what a community member does. She gently encouraged me to get over it, with these words: Dreams are no more scary than real life. If your dreams were unrealistic, you'd know it. But you know they aren't.

This may not seem connected to the memorabilia I mentioned earlier. I was reminded however of a piece of family history I already have. In these obituaries, you see people, recently deceased, being described by the loved ones they left behind. You can't help but wonder how you'd be described if someone were writing yours.

These family members had a loving community to miss them when they were gone, a community that knew who they were. So at my age, as I am reconnecting with who I am and who I always wanted to be, I acknowledge not only that I have dreams, but that I can nurture them into reality. I find that I want my community to know that the dreams are as much a part of me as the real bits they already know about. I'm not afraid of telling them in case I were to fail and embarrass myself. In fact, I'm not even afraid of falling or failing anymore, I'm just afraid of not trying. And I need them, along with my family, to remind and encourage me to keep trying.

That's how hard things get done. With help. And when you know that getting help will definitely make hard things easier, don't you want everyone to know?

--Laura

A Real Goal Getter: Part IV

So now I stand before the world (or the half dozen people who read this), a reformed slacker, a recalcitrant goal dodger, determined to change my ways.

Now what?

Your mileage may vary. I've spent time, as you've seen, looking back to a time when I had, I felt, clearer goals. And let me be clear. I'm not talking about regular goals - to lose weight or get the laundry done by the end of the day. It isn't even about living within a budget or replacing the carpet with hardwood flooring. Those things are tasks. They are chores. And I've managed to do each of those things at one point or another.

I'm speaking of goals like the ones you had in high school, like the ones you developed in college. These were the goals you used to chart your life. And I think finding them again is a bit harder than it sounds. How far back do I need to retrace my steps, for example? When I was young, I wanted to be an archaeologist. Then I wanted to be a geologist. After that, an astronomer. In fact, my parents even got me a telescope during that phase, and I remember I was able to manipulate the lenses and mirrors well enough to view a lunar eclipse.

But the fact is, if I had to wait on the schooling I'd need to invest in those dreams again, I'd be further in debt and miserable in the struggle. I can keep those dreams alive as interests. But I can put them aside as goals.

There's writing, which is closer to my heart. Many people appreciate the writing I do. And recently I devoted some time and energy to complete a certificate course in technical writing, knowing that like any skill (as opposed to a talent), it could be mastered and used to my advantage.

But there's something I've realized as I've spent time on this goal getter search of mine. Since I've left college, some of my goals have changed. As an adult, my goals are not so much about what kind of job I want, not really. They are more about the kind of person I want to be. Because it's not that I want to be an archaeologist, or an astronomer, or even a journalist, but I want to be the person I think some of those titles represent.

I am curious about my surroundings, so I want to do something that supports that instead of discouraging it. I want to emulate the archaeologist in me who's not afraid of getting a little messy digging for treasure in the hidden places. I want to hold onto the astronomer in me who's interested in what lies beyond. I want to hold onto the journalist in me who asks the questions we all need answered.

And after all this digging, exploring and asking, I've determined something; I'm not living right.

More on that later...

--Laura