Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Life is but a dream, y'all
I'm tempted to write about Angelina Jolie, but good lord - everyone is going to write about her. The short version of my thoughts on her decision to not only do the pre-emptive strike on her body, but also write about it for the New York Times is: it made me feel sad.
What a surreal moment in history this is. Am I the only one feeling it? Angelina, an archetype of sex, cutting off her breasts because of something in her DNA. Sad - but also weird. Who would have guessed, yesterday, that this would happen?
Similarly surreal yesterday was watching the Soyuz capsule separate from the International Space Station, then drop from the sky - like a damn rock - onto the forlorn steppe of Kazakhstan, with three astronauts inside. Good lord! I miss the space shuttle. At least they could land as if on an airplane when they came and went from space.
If you don't know about Chris Hadfield, who was the Space Station commander for five months, please google his name right away. He posted on FB and twitter throughout his time up there, made life on board the station seem real to us regular folk. I learned so many things, saw many incredible photos of earth, and was charmed by him as well. His video cover of David Bowie's Space Oddity went viral to such an extent I feel certain you've seen it. Just in case you haven't:
Even ten years ago, no one would have imagined this. No one could have. It's a beautiful cover - melancholy, unlike the original which was meant to be ironic. Col. Hadfield showed us how inspiring it would be to see the earth from up there, no matter the discomforts. Only in the Age of Aquarius could a Canadian astronaut, on a mission that has become more or less routine, have such a far-reaching impact within our society. Well ... wow!
My dream life has been off the charts this week in terms of the surreal factor, as well as the intensity and vividness of the dreams. I planted some potent seeds before the eclipse, announcing I would teach a class in shamanic healing techniques this summer. I've been working on the outline passionately; it feels like I'm channeling something - I can't stop writing and thinking about it. At night after writing and thinking about the class, I lay my head on my pillow and dream vivid, three dimensional dreams. When I wake up, it takes me a minute to separate from the dream - they are powerful, I'm telling you. I worked the eclipse and now it's working me.
More craziness: here come the Brood II cicadas! They're beginning to hatch already. I'm talking about Magicicagadas, people. They are NOT locusts and they are NOT the mournful August cicadas of summer. These guys bring a goofy, wild, joyful energy as they hatch, fly, mate and die. When Brood X rose in the early 2000s, I could not stop giggling. Jake could not stop eating them, but apparently they weren't that bad for him as he never suffered for a second in the wake of a cicada chow down.
It's one thing after another this spring.
What a crazy time. Me? I'm working, writing like a maniac about shamanic healing, dreaming powerfully. I'm walking around when the pollen isn't too bad.
All is well at the chateau. Shalom.