Our opening poem may seem a little out of place if you live in more northern climes. The bees where I reside, in the hinterlands, have long since expired or gone into hibernation. I love bees, especially the honey and bumble variety. Bumbles, the teddy bears of the insect community. So huggable and yet so untouchable.

I left my leaves on the lawn to over winter. I heard somewhere ... a facebook feed ... so take it as you will ... that leaving detritus on fields and lawn creates little dens for Lilliputians, winged and otherwise, of the pasture and garden, to over winter within. The birch willow and grandfather oak's cast offs could mean the difference between survival and death for next year's pollinator or soil aerators.

I wonder do hibernating and autumn dozing bumble bees dream. Do they dream of summer pewter skies, speckled with silken batten? Are breezes like streams and rivers, our little aviators can ride, or ford if need be. During hardier storms, for certain, it is best to be tucked in the hive or deep in the folds of a petal. Imagine taking shelter in a flower, to wait out bad-weather.

If we can grant that the sky would represent the bee's subconscious; most certainly, our subconscious is represented by water.

Atmosphere come to earth, condensed and pooled in a glade.

Locks Above Water

intertidal
ebb and flow
play the coquette
play hard to get
but welcome surrender
when the crepuscular tide
blushes to pastel indigo

immerse yourself
join the divine cosmic dance
a spacetime-caped pasodoble
between contrast and appreciation
there is no refusing the lead
only dragging your feet
tripping and falling
chaffing your limbs

there is
no dimension and depth
current or flow
without dark and light
warmth and cold
pressure differential

swim, little sylph
but keep your locks
above water

keep your face
turned to the solar
lather and moisten
siesta and umbrella
flit among the dapple

flirt too closely with shadow
your individuality swallowed
lost to a circular tide and flush
compressed to singularity

I'm all for togetherness, swimming together
but let's keep it at arms length
save for in a panic, we together forever
stray past the event horizon, sink to the abyss

kiss the free form octopi
the Fibonacci shelled nautilus
submit to the spiral never-ending stellar waltz
get giddy and even heady
interlace with red-shifted fingertips

but don't over-commit or cling
keep at least one firm toe grip
buried deep and anchored
in the silvered sands of the material

I have a confession. I love to sleep. I probably sleep way more than the rest of you. I have worked my life so that I generally get to sleep my full, most days. Very little feels worse to me than having to get up before I am ready.

I love to sleep and I love to dream. The best dreams are always in the morning. At least, those are generally the easiest to remember. I see dreams and sleep as the psyche's built in psycho-analysis. They are essential to mental health and at the same time offer exotic adventure that is in everyone's budget.

And yes, Hivelanders, Beauties, and Beats. They are most definitely trying to tell you something. Something your ego is most certainly getting in the way of letting you realize. Our minds are connected even when we are dreaming; we are always teaching each other. They are always telling to tell us the truth even if they dress it up in symbolism and metaphor.

We speak in words; some of us even think it words. All of us think in images. The dreaming mind is no different. Your dreaming mind might offer an outrageous, unrealistic narrative for comatose enjoyment, but the images are speaking a second language. The language of metaphor. Our subconscious speaks in metaphor.

Learn to read the signs and discover meaning about the world and yourself the casual observer and sleepy walker misses.

Of course, us spiritual types don't just have dreams to delve into the subconscious. We also have meditation and prayer. I try to meditate several times a day. Right when I wake up; this can be a challenge for me because I am apt to fall back to sleep. But I do give it a try. Most days I do yoga and end the session with a thoughtless spell. Really, yoga itself is meditation, just a moving one. Then after a time of activity and productiveness, I will take another spin around in nothingness. But hands down, my best meditation is achieved as I fall asleep.

Most of my life, it took me ages to drift off. I discovered the teachings of Eckhart Tolle, and he helped me to claim some silence when needed. Silencing the mind, ceasing thought, is meditation. Meditation also stopped, or at least lessened, my night time rumination sessions. And then ... I learned to stretch the time of awareness before sleep claims the mind.

This is a truly physical experience. The body tingles with a positive sensation. You grow cold, but not unpleasantly so. Behind your closed eye lids, star-scapes and nebula animate. You just are. Aware of yourself, but not thinking. It is the best space rollercoaster through clouds and stars, one could imagine. You may be brought back to waking or delivered to the arms of the sandman. Either way, you feel loved.

It doesn't happen this way every time, but it does happened regularly. You can imagine how it might be difficult for a girl to keep her locks above water with that waiting for her when she closes her eyes and gets her mind just right. The mind, our subconscious, and I do mean our, is connected and endless. Plenty of space to stretch out and be.

4

The Tao is a well
Dwarfed by a raindrop
Deep enough
To fill an endless ocean

She soothes all sharpness
Eases all tightness
Mutes all din
Softens all glare
Forms and dissolves all clay

All flows from her
All flows into her
She is the beginning
She has no end

Link to Rumble spoken word