Human to Human

I track dreams. I hand-write them in a particular journal. I’ve learned that when I track dreams, they tend to track me. And so I write. I’m loyal to the tiniest snippets and fragments that appear in dreams.

A few days ago, I dreamed of being at the end of a hall in a hotel. Near the end where I stood, was an open elevator. I was standing in the hall waiving my hand on the elevator door sensor, holding it open. At the other end of the hall was our cat Marmalade. She sat aloof. But watching. I woke.

With linear mind, dreams often make little sense. But it isn’t linear mind that I wish to guide with dreams. It is the integrating mind, and heart, that I wish. That place where the subconscious peeks about the ridgeline, bringing clues from what lives beneath. Sometimes desires. Sometimes fears. Sometimes angsts. Sometimes clarities.

My intuition for this hallway and cat dream points me to desired integration of what is horizontal and what is vertical spirit growing. The cat is agile. I tend her often. I tend to the horizontal agilities in my life. But I also know of the distinct need for the vertical, that which rises above and descends below the human and three-dimensional planes.

Today, MLK, dreams — I find myself needing poetry. To tend to some of my vertical. To tend to dreams. I gave myself permission to sit on the floor in my office, and thumb through a few pages of favorites nearby. I share them here because, well, I want to. I want to feel something beyond the linear.

From Langston Hughes’, The Dream Keeper and other poems.

From Mary Oliver’s Dream Work

From Richard Wagamese, Embers

I track dreams. I’ve learned that when I do, they tend to track me. With poetry too. When I track expressions of the heart, they tend to track me. Nighttime dreams. And dreams of better, more kind, conscious ways of living now.

I am the themes I’m living. I am those thoughts. I am those breaths. I am those questions. I am those buckets.

I have three themes that are quite organizing me these days. They come out in my words. I’m welcoming these themes to clarify me. And to clarify what I do. Maybe these connect to your themes.

Theme 1 — Little Things That Are Big Things

Like meeting together more spaciously. Like asking questions together. Like learning to listen. Like choosing joy, appreciation, and curiosity. Like acknowledging shortcomings, fears, and sorrows. Like remembering we are not alone. I relate to the simple naming of being better humans. On our own. Together with others. Small thing that is a big thing.

Theme 2 — Connection, Courage, Compassionate Action.

This is the subtitle to Gifts of Circle. I wrote the book. Now the book, this subtitle, is writing me. Connection is the model. It is the priority. It is the glue. When we are together, whatever our cause is, connection must be the work. From connection, courage can grow. From connect, compassion can also become pattern. Connection, courage, compassionate action — they seem like small things. These are the big things, the needed things. Everywhere.

Theme 3 — Becoming & Belonging

I’ve been a facilitator for 30 years now. I’ve worked with many groups in many fields of professional and personal practice. There will always be important outcomes that don’t include the words “becoming and belonging.” But I’ve learned that these yearnings always live nearby any stated outcomes. They are the good soil that so many wish for. Becoming is a sense of purpose. Becoming you. Becoming me. You and me in this community. Becoming community. Belonging, well its that feeling of undeniable place in the world, in the community, in the neighborhood. It is belonging to life, receiving its energy, sharing its energy.

Yup. Three themes. I am my name, John Tenneson Woolf. We all are. Good. But sometimes, the nuance to our names is the huddle of themes. We humans, we are what we stay curious about. We are what we explore and harvest.

Meet Dr. Rita Fierro. I did, seven years or so ago.

Rita was participant in a Rites of Passage program, Fire & Water. I was co-leading with Quanita Roberson.

Rita’s work has been very centered in social justice through her life. She’s got big heart. She’s got clear principles. I got to reflect and write a forward for her book, Digging Up The Seeds of White Supremacy.

Recently Rita shared these seven principles and practices — “things she’s learned over 30 years of social justice work.”

I’m glad for the inspirations. Applied to social justice, yes, but also to conscious living and learning in many fields of human being.

Rita’s words…

1. Outrage is an unsustainable center for action. Outrage consumes the body, the mind, and the soul.
2. Reacting to every injustice in the news cycle isn’t activism. If speaking up takes energy away from the difference that matters to you most, it’s not activism. It’s self-sabotage. 
3. Plan the pauses. As you think about your upcoming year now, set a rhythm of breaks: weekly, monthly, and yearly. Of course, not all of them may come true, but planning for 65 breaks may make at least 30 a reality. 
4. What I need to restore, is up to me. Whatever I need to stay in the game is a priority.
5. Releasing grief is a priority. It will leave space for more of the good stuff.
6. Prioritize joy. Joy regenerates. It will keep you in the game longer.        
7. Have a social justice strategy. It’s easier to be on the journey for the long-haul when there are small successes along the way in the areas we care most about.