Dance & Dream

Dear You,

I’ve been wearing black recently. Is this mourning attire? I haven’t worn all black for years. Black clothes worn as a mark of respect and deep (collective) grieving.

I was in a city, in the Middle East. High rise buildings, water canals, the complexity of city infrastructure. There was a panic amongst the people. Get somewhere safe, hunker down and hope your choice for shelter was a safe one, what was coming? The cries in the air were of an approaching man-made typhoon. But no one really knew.

I was searching for my dog Herbie, I needed him to be with me, safe. My side kick, my ride-or-die, my familiar - my dæmon. I started to imagine that he would be feeling scared. The thought of him alone and in fear upset me. I scrambled through the cityscape, bumping past people running in chaotic directions. Almost giving up in desperation I stopped to shout ——- HHHHHEEEEEERRRRBIE, the sound of my voice rang as if I were hollering into a canyon, all the noise from the city ceased. In perfect dream-manifestation a dog that looked just like him suddenly appeared and ran into my arms, accompanied by an old lady who had her grandchildren with her. She told me it was her dog, I could tell she was lying. I realised the children would probably appreciate having Herbie’s companionship. Remembering that irl he has a crook at the end of his tail, I checked in my dream and there it was the broken tailbone. I woke up.

There was a physical pain in the centre of my chest. Dream emotions can ripple out into waking life. I began to cry (yes the second dream recently I’ve woken up to in tears), my first thoughts went to the parents in the war torn cities, in Palestine, in Iran, in Lebanon, who may have lost their children or have been separated from them…who are searching amongst the chaos for their babies... how to be a parent in this world? My dreams are helping me to express the deep grief I feel. They also teach me how our dreams can shape reality, how we are creating , and co-creating the illusion of reality one thought at a time, one dream at a time. And so I am consciously despite the current collective projection, working toward holding the vision of a world with clean oceans and rivers, healthy breathable air, sacred springs, children playing, food shared, all beings respected and honoured. I dream of more and more genuine relationships that are transformational, authentic, reciprocal - not transactional.

We survive and thrive in community.

I wear black again today. For all the lives lost as a result of the insatiable greed of a few. Wake up.

And just like the black of my clothes the Corvids have been very present…A Parliament of Rooks, a Murder of Crows and a Conspiracy of Ravens. They’re mysterious birds of the Threshold. Especially the gnarly Rooks, with their wizard beaks and their grunking kraa kraa. It’s a birds world out here on the coast of West Wales, humans are outnumbered. They observe whilst we rush around like headless chickens carrying out our unimportant busyness of business.

The other day I watched two rooks on the cliff top, their black feathers shining blue. One of them, I’m guessing the male, began to perform what looked like a dance. Rooks are the undertakers, carrion connoisseurs. If they were in the Tarot they would be the Death card. Like Ravens they are symbols of a bridge between two worlds, one claw here, the other there…and Death, the ultimate card of endings and beginnings. Their presence invokes respect and fear…it’s those beady eyes watching, they remember your face and your actions...

But on this afternoon I watched them…as this dance played out and I saw another side to these serious birds. The male splayed out his tail feathers like a peacock and began to do a sort of head-butt shimmy, theatrically circling the other bird in a dance floor ritual. If there was music playing to his rhythm it would have been some techno or tribal drumming. It was impressive and it made me laugh, but the other bird, she carried on pecking the ground for worms as if she hadn’t noticed, maybe she was playing it cool. Rooks and Ravens partner up for life…so yeah, work out his dance moves first. How willing is he to go all out and head-butt shimmy for you? Even the Rooks like to dance.

Keep dancing for the end and the beginning.

Rave as ritual.

Dance as prayer.

I remain most humbly your loyal friend in service

Erin

X

P.s I have an exciting project I’m just completing. A series of 13 Lino Prints that will be made into cards based on the main Jungian archetypes, these archetypes each have an action aligned with ancient and modern technologies to expand states of consciousness… more will be revealed soon.

…balancing creating my Art out of necessity to express myself with bringing the Art out to the world is another dance I am continually learning the steps for.