Drawing to us the things we desire

Last night, I dreamt I was part of a class learning to draw. What did this dream represent to me, I wondered?

Even as I asked the question, I had to laugh. Just the word “drawing” told me everything I needed to know.

First, I drew up a list
  • Drawing is an art form.
  • The act of moving charcoal across paper, i.e. drawing, is an act of creation.
  • To draw something is to bring it to you, for example drawing cash from an account or drawing attention in a crowd.
  • Drawing also implies tapping a power source, for example, an appliance draws electricity through an outlet.
Then I sketched in some details

In the dream, it took me forever to pick out the perfect place to sit and create my latest drawing assignment. Once settled, I began talking myself out of drawing at all. The assignment had been to draw my classmate, a good looking man named Paul. I knew one of the other women was hoping to begin a relationship with him.

Pretty flimsy excuse for dodging an exercise in creativity.

And finally, drew some conclusions
  • I, too, desired my hunky classmate, though my dream self wouldn’t acknowledge it.


  • If I drew him, I would energetically draw him to me. A good thing, right?


  • What then? What if I had proof that I was an infinity powerful creative being? Overwhelming!

and worse

  • What if everyone knew as well as I did that I didn’t deserve it?

And there’s the real rub of it. Apparently, I’m still grappling with feeling worthy. Still hesitant to use my full power of creation. Still trying to rationalize my fears by pretending to protect someone else’s best interests—as if any of us are qualified to know what’s in the best interest of another.

How are you doing with these questions? How do you hold yourself back? Where do you fling yourself headlong into creation? And how adept are you at admitting your desires (and believing you’re worthy to live them)?

As for me, guess I’ll be going back to class tonight!

Photo credit: Sarah Robinson

You put yer right brain in, you put yer right brain out

Is there such a thing as interdimensional hokey pokey? It sure would explain a lot about my “reality” these days.

Putting sleep time to lively use

My dreams have become crispy vivid, including coherent conversations with people I love. Some of these dreams contain obvious information about my past lives. And while I wouldn’t describe my dream state as lucid, I am far more conscious in my sleep than ever in the past, able to bring what I learned there into my eyes-open time.

I’m currently reading William Buhlman’s book, and while I expect there will be some useful info for me around this experience, I’ll be (delightfully) surprised if he calls it the interdimensional hokey pokey.

Photo credit: anoldent

Firewalk? FireDANCE! (would you?)

Last night in meditation, I saw me walking over glowing coals and I looked an awful lot like this fella here—arms out, head up, laughing deep and loud as I made my merry (yet majestic) way through the red hot field of embers.

So far, I’ve only firewalked in my dreams, but I just know I’ll get the chance to do it for real. Super excited about it. Have you ever done it? Would you?

Photo credit: Trenton Schultz

Giving voice to the goofball

Today, a friend invited me to a day-long event jam-packed with well-known motivational speakers. I accepted with delight. Not only do I love a good inspirational pep talk, I welcomed the chance to watch and learn techniques from seasoned pros on the arena-scale speaking circuit.

The brilliant, the okay and the ugly

I saw eight speakers before I left, not including the MC and entertainment acts. Six were strictly motivational and two were pitching product. Three of them inspired me. One of them had me feeling empathetic but sad. Two came across as professional but not particularly engaging, and another was practiced (rather than pro) and distant. And one knocked me so off balance, I headed for home rather than stay in that crowded venue for the last two or three speakers.

My favorites surprised me. One was a man not listed on any of the lineups I’d seen publicized, an author and student of Zig Ziglar named Krish Dhanam—passionate, articulate and proclaiming a strong point of view. One was one of the pitchmen, a man named Bob Kittell—warm, funny and demonstrating an undying curiosity and passion for living. And perhaps most surprising to this non-competitive, team-sports-o-phobe (if I might be so bold as to invent the term), one was NFL Hall of Famer Terry Bradshaw—self-deprecating goofball willing to be vulnerable in front of thousands of people.

It wasn’t so much the pitch as the pitcher

The speaker that sent me home was the other pitchman. To my ears, he was fingernails on the blackboard. For example, he mentioned the importance of being kind, yet he used cruel humor. (For example, he suggested those who disagreed with him take the Kevorkian home study test and end it all.) And he liked to talk about helping random people he’d met, like a waitress, a hotel housekeeper, his trash collector, etc., and though he insisted it didn’t bother him these people “weren’t white,” made a point to use disparaging adjectives (“fat,” “old,” “disgusting,” “woodpecker”), to mimic their accents and imply their ignorance.

Funny that one of the things I cheered about Mr. Dhanam—a call for the end of political correctness—was the same thing I bemoaned in this other man.

Speaking with a forked tongue

As I rode the train home, I realized what made the difference for me and caused me to walk out. Unlike the other speakers I’d seen, this last man’s words were not in alignment with his true beliefs. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to sense it, and I sincerely hope the organizers rethink having him on the same roster as the big-name, vibrationally-authentic speakers.

Long live the inner child

On the upside, I realized the speakers I loved had more in common than vibrational alignment. They all had a decided point a view, rather than simply aim to please the audience. They all spoke without notes or teleprompter—they spoke passionately, from the heart. And more than passion, there was JOY.

Thank you, Mr. Dhanam, Mr. Kittell and Mr. Bradshaw for being my role models today.

And thanks to my friend Sherri, for the opportunity to see them speak.

Photo credit: Beth Rankin

This is a test. This is only a test

Who’s in charge, here?

I’ll be the first to admit it—I can be stubborn about acknowledging patterns. Yet it frustrates me that Team Sally is so patient, I could keep my fingers in my ears singing la-la-la until I draw the last breath of this lifetime without them ever insisting I take notice.

That’s the nature of free will.

Ask and it is given… sort of

Yesterday, I acknowledged a pattern that’s been occurring for at least a year. I took it to the Tarot for insight and came away puzzled, so I brought my request for clarity into my meditation.

The only suggestion I feel I really understood: go without TV for a week. Uh… OK. I can do that. I think.

Can I expect a spiritual Scooby snack for doing this? I don’t know. But two questions do have me glued to my seat. One: will I really make it for a week? And two: how many amazing things might I learn/accomplish as I go?

Stay tuned.

Photo credit: d.billy

Your super-smart, always-open Help Desk

Sometimes, my factory-standard brain mass seems insufficient to give me Really Smart Answers to big, burning questions. Yesterday, the question was, how can it be that I’m once again so late getting out my front door?*

So as I was driving to my appointment, I threw the question over to Team Sally. “I need help,” I said. “How can I better hit my target for launch time?”

(You have a Team Your Name Here, too, you know. Maybe you call ’em God or angels or guides or different aspects of your higher self. Whatever. The point is, they run the most amazing Help Desk in the Universe, and all you have to do is ask. Or perhaps I should say, the only catch is, you have to ask.)

I posed my question and I listened. Immediately, I got, “Don’t have breakfast.” Before I could blow a raspberry in my Team’s direction, I realized it was shorthand for two different suggestions:

  1. Don’t have breakfast with the TV. (If I press Play on something from the DVR, it’s all too easy to sit until the program is over.)…AND…
  2. Don’t have breakfast until you’ve accomplished 99% of what you need to leave. In other words, complete all the gathering of things to take with you, do all the primping of hair and makeup and accessorizing and such, and only when all that remains is to brush your teeth and do the dishes, then have breakfast. If there’s time for TV at that point, fine. And then I got one more suggestion…
  3. Set a timer.

Could I have come to these ideas on my own? Seems likely. But the way that they arrived makes me more inclined to try them than if I blew threw the problem with mere logic.

This morning, I applied suggestion 2 with a dash of 3, and guess what? I achieved escape velocity exactly when I’d hoped. Thanks, Team Sally!

Photo credit: SuperFantastic

*You may be plagued by very different big, burning questions. Fret not. I’ll bet this method will work for you, too.

Living a more playful life

The name of this game is, “If this were a sign, what would it mean?” It’s one of my favorites.

I played this game today when I found a simple ballpoint pen on the sidewalk on my way to an appointment. I picked it up, and when I learned it didn’t belong to anyone inside, had a better look at it. Its writing tip was exposed, cap secured atop the other end—this pen was ready for action. And now it was mine, if I wanted it.

I asked myself, “if this were a sign, what would it mean?” Immediately, I heard in my head, “Your writing is going to pick up.”

It made me smile. It helped me exercise my intuition. And it planted a seed of hope. Does it matter whether finding it was truly a sign from the Universe/God/higher self? Not a bit. But this is definitely my pen.

Photo credit: victoriapeckham