Last night I dreamt that I was super pregnant and about to have a baby. I was in the hospital with a sweet partner and my parents were there and it was ON. I woke up from this dream bawling my head off. WTF?
Why was I bawling? Because I’m 36 and no baby in sight, don’t know if it’s even possible? I don’t think that’s it — Babies haven’t always been a dream of mine, always a little indifferent about having one until recently when I’ve fallen in love with my friends’ kids and had inklings of how amazing it would be to have one. Later on in this day I went running 16 miles to train for a marathon and had a beer with my friend, and have been geeking out at the computer doing work for hours. I could not have this freedom with a newborn, no siree.
I’ve had baby dreams before. Usually these babies are tiny, smaller than the palm of my hand. In one dream I carried the baby around in a teacup, in another I kept her safe in a cough drop wrapper. In one dream she was in a glowing orb of white light.
I’ve written about my musical projects as babies before as well. Things to be protected in utero but released and let go to find their own ways in the world.
In real talk, I’ve been depressed and heartbroken. I’ve been working through heavy heart stuff and feeling like my life is sort of pointless. I feel like I’ve been fucked with and rattled around a lot this past year. I played a part in this, and trying to stay strong. The world is in such pain; our country is a total shitshow. It’s appalling. So do we stay depressed? Or do we take action? Do we melt in paralysis of fear, not leaving the house, not looking for love, avoiding being big & living out loud for fear of offending some lurking evil, sometimes as close to heart as friends or lovers?
What I’m taking from this dream is that I’ve got all these unborn babies waiting to see the light of day, ideas and songs and books and blogs and paintings and poems. If I sit paralyzed in fear and pain all I’m gonna do is stuff myself with vegan quesadillas and gain 20 pounds back and cry in a corner. I’m sick of it. Real or imagined babies need us to do the work of making this planet more beautiful. With our art, with our action, with our hope, with our compassion. With community, with peaceful gatherings, with conversations, with healthy boundaries, with deep solitude, with therapy, with poetry, with film, with song. No more time to waste moping. May your babies real or dreamy sleep sweetly tonight …
Painting of Tori Amos by Mary 😉
What’s UP???! Hope your spring has been fruitful, or at least blossoming with much fruit to come. Cherry blossoms popped in Taos last week and then it snowed real heavy, blocking the mountain passes, knocking down tree limbs and making the trail along the rio grande mush mush mush! But there is springtime deep down in the dirt, like 8 feet of snow sings:
“heart so deep, so wild and strong
it beats so fast, it carries on
the heat sighs like a tired woman
rises through the cracks
brings whiskey to her lips
and sips and waits for the burn
like we all have to wait our turn
a new reason to move on with the hurt
there’s springtime deep down in the dirt”
I just crested staying over two months in Taos, New Mexico as an Artist in Residence at the Wurlitzer Foundation. A few days after I arrived here I sought out the Devisadero Loop Trail, a section / foothill of the Sangre de Cristo mountains. It begins around 7,000 feet above sea level and makes its way to 8,300 feet. Needless to say, my Minnesota lungs were winded. I was such a PILE on the first hike. Took me 2.5-3 hours and I was exhausted on those early days of being here. Now I’m run/hiking it, and just had my best time at 1:10.
“Devisadero” has a few searchable meanings – could be from the Spanish word for ‘division.’ The forest service says it means “lookout place” and that “the peak had once been used by the Taos Pueblo Indians to stand guard against the Apaches who would come down Taos Canyon to raid the Pueblo.” Or it might be from the word divisar, meaning similarly ‘to gaze at something from a distance.’
I haven’t been in Taos for two weeks just yet – Tuesday eve it will be so – but time moves slow here – I’ve made it as such. Imposed solitude. Turning down invites to chill with the other artists, to go to a Bob Marley dance party at a gallery, and right now I could be drinking and watching the Superbowl with some passionate intellectuals … but no, I am in my casita … blogging … what a DORK!
A quick update on how I am spending my artist residency – the spiral nature of my time thus far. First – motivation, enthusiasm, excitement spiraled to overwhelm, exhaustion, lethargy and then back around slowly to productivity, awe, creative bliss … Emotions; they are always shifting, changing like clouds in the sky or waves in the sea. The thing is, underneath all of that emotional stormage and weather there’s a clear blue space. And I work with that. I try to work with that.
Greetings friends! I hope this finds you well, late January, morning, afternoon, evening. I’m not sure how much I’ll blog but I’m off of my personal facebook so I need some sort of outlet!
I arrived on Tuesday evening to my casita at the Helene Wurlitzer Foundation where I will be an artist in residence for 3 months. Just a little over a week ago I had a wonderful send off party at Icehouse Minneapolis (lots of buzz about it – SO grateful for the press! Read the previews & show reviews & interviews here) and then I hustled in a procrastinatory way to get everything in check in Minneapolis, secure the yoga studio with its amazing instructors, pack up my house and hit the road …