Photos, Reflections

Reawakening the dreamer

One of the things I loved most about my former husband was his capacity for magic*, imagination and childlike wonder at how light and sound moved through space.

I was fascinated by his ability to create dreamy spaces out of nothing, so to speak.  A bit of fabric here, some crystals in the window there and, wow, we’d have a room filled with rainbow light. Being with him seemed to bend time, and we shared long days and nights of laughter and walking and finding curious small details amidst the mundane.  He taught me how to see differently; he taught me to notice the reflections in things, which shifted my perception of reality; he taught me to slow down and notice, really notice things.  Apart from our son, these were his most amazing gifts to me, which I will always cherish.

But once we had a child together, my deep instinctual need for security came to the fore. My greatest drive became protecting and providing for my son amid some very difficult circumstances. At some point the earth split between my husband and I, and we were left standing on different continents; despite deep love, neither of us knew how to get back to the other. Out of sheer necessity, my inner dreamer and artist died for a long while.

When we separated, the feeling of not having to carry another adult in the material world was an enormous relief.  But over time, I had a sense that a light had gone out in my life.  It felt like he had taken his magic away, and I was bereft.  It’s taken me a long while to remember that I too have magic in me. It’s tentative and shaky at times, but it is there.  Writing these stories is part of shaking my magic out and letting it unfurl in the world.

Awakening the dreamer is part of this process of loving myself deeply.  I used my camera for the first time in a long time yesterday, on my birthday.  The process of seeing beyond surfaces came back to me with such force that I was mildly disoriented at first.  Then I just went with it – stumbling through woodlands and noticing how each tree had its own face, its own presence. I saw the many groves of Ostara, festooned with flowers and bees. I howled at recognition of the wild spaces within me.

Magic shimmered inside me yesterday, and lit me from within for a glorious moment.

*Magic – the light each of us has the power to bring forth from within, when we let go with wild abandon into our creativity and spirituality.

Ostara's grove

Ostara’s grove

Sylvan seer

Sylvan seer

The woodsman

The woodsman


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