Anticipation. Checking each day's mail for the CD I ordered last week from the Sounds True catalog. It is music - classical pieces as they describe it - which promotes vitality, strength, robust health. As I am in the early days of self-rehabilitation to return myself to greater mobility, and the CD was on sale, I made the leap.
This Friday, January 15, is expected by some to bring positive changes through the convergence of a new moon, a solar exlipse and the planet Mercury, my unnamed co-conspirator in matters of communication, which is due to go, as they call it, direct. I'm unclear (ah, poor communication!) how long it has been retrograde and even with that in force, much information HAS reached me, although the outgoing messages may have been garbled or lost.
While healing and change truly are interior processes, they have allies on the outside. Depending on your belief system, these may be anything from herbs or self-help lectures to Divine or astral influences, helping hands that lift us to the next plateau. The other night I was singing - to the best of my ability - "Mr Tambourine Man" while doing the dishes and HAD to hear it before I went to sleep. Among my blessings is my son who now has on CDs much of what I once had on vinyl. He found for me a Dylan compilation and I not only got to "...dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, silhouetted by the sea..." but select other tracks and envision building that "...ladder to the stars" where I could "... step on every rung."
Which bring me back to what must be January's (or this century's) theme, Dream Big. Or just Dream, all sizes available. In my hometown there was what we used to call a character (one of many...they seemed to feel safe in their unusualness in Pasadena of a certain era). This gentleman always carried a briefcase, walked with a foreward slant as thought heading into a gale and inhabited a Queen Anne Victorian, through the windows of which could be seen newspapers and magazine piled, we assumed, to the ceilings.
Upon his passing, documents came to light - such as what he always carried in the briefcase - that indicated he had come from great wealth, elsewhere, and his family supported him in comfort with the understanding that he never return home. My parents said such persons were called remittance men. We found that his most treasured, protected papers, far from being any correspondence with relatives or bankers, were blueprints, plans, as they were labeled, for a Yacht for his Personal Use. It could be that, at one time, the money was there for such a grandiose undertaking, but at my house we thought it more likely that he had spent what money there was to have the drawings made, to take the first step in the direction of that particularly ambitious and unlikely dream.
I have been fooled (deluded by self and by others) before and likely will again, no matter what The Who have to say about it. Yet I sense that seedling which may grow into enhanced vigor, stamina, freedom from ills and aches and why would music not be the vehicle for its sprouting? I have half-wished throughout my life for a cow that I could trade for magic beans as Jack did, free then to climb the stalk - toward the stars - and take my chances on what I might find.
Among the pebbles of wisdom I have gathered - my pockets rattle with them - is the absolute knowledge that I will survive being disappointed. It brings with it an unmatchable freedom, the luxury to dream, to imagine, to anticipate, to risk, to not mind being a fool who sometimes blurts out her truth when its impact will be indelible. In our days here on Earth we have survived much greater traumas; take a chance and always hope for the good outcome.