Dreamtime

I have spent most of the last few days sleeping, doing only the essentials to stay alive, immobilized with fatigue. The opaque heat of the week has not helped to resist the weight of the dark energies that gravitate around me.

In the sky, the planets form squares and oppositions that confuse the issue. Saturn, the conservative, gazes from afar at Uranus, who wants to break everything, and the arbiter is Mars manipulating both. My thin skin absorbs the scent. It is time for me to take a vacation; my body seems to know more about the state of things than I do because it does everything in slow motion.

So I often close my eyes. It is necessary to listen, open one’s senses, observe the dirt that accumulates at the window of one’s mind, sit down to better walk one’s way, and attempt a return towards what would be to rediscover.

The Aborigines of Australia explained the source of their existence by the Dreamtime, a reality existing before the creation of our planet, its mother galaxy, and its epiphenomena parents. Everything would have been Spirit before it started to dream and to create. This myth can be found everywhere, even in the theoretical trenches of some physicists.

According to Joseph Chilton Pearce, the child would also inhabit this world, gradually extracting itself from it, towards the seventh year, to finally incarnate Reason and its body. Among ancient people, however, there was no question of breaking with the Dreaming but using the new powers of the intellect to navigate toward reconstructed dreams. The ancient soul continued to dream in an almost permanent ecstatic state.

To keep one’s childlike heart does not mean to return to the recklessness of happiness, but to work tirelessly to regain one’s Icarus feathers and to attempt the absolute journey of life until the wings that weigh us down catch fire and plunge us into the cauldron and fall of a new Knowledge that is constantly being renewed.

How can I be sure of what I am doing? How do I reconcile this dream with my professional responsibilities? I live in two worlds, because like everyone else, I need my fantasies and my paycheck. Is this where my weariness comes from? Shouldn’t we all be singers of our own potential?

I close my eyes, surround my awareness of this state, provide it with the necessary wood, dip my hands in cold water, splash it on my face. Wicked wisdom.