November 29, 2024
Another dream this morning. I’m left with only a feeling once again which seems to be related to what I spoke about yesterday – being inside the inner dimension where messages are transferred without words often times. This time there were words spoken, but I lost them as I came awake due to the alarm going off. Perhaps if I’d come out of it naturally, I would have remembered more. Still there is enough residual of the emotional tide attached to the words to understand a pretty big message. The image I remember was looking into what seemed like a giant aquarium with blue whales swimming in front of me. The unique aspect of this was how they were speckled with tiny star like lights which made them look like a constellation swimming in their dark environment. As above, so below…… It was breathtaking and magical. I was so disappointed to have the alarm take me out of this incredible scene, losing the words in the process.
There is also a fragment which involved speaking with a girl I used to work with many years ago, about the hummingbird project. The interesting thing about seeing her, is, she would not be someone I would ever approach on this subject, or any other subject really.
Also standing behind me (I may have been in the bookstore, but not sure of the environment) was the owner of the drugstore in town, who seemed to be waiting to talk to me about the project as well. This scene played out so realistically, it was once more as if they were in the room with me when I woke up. How strange though, it would be these two people who would enter my Dreamtime, as they are not on my radar, especially with respect to the project. Had the experience not felt so real, I wouldn’t have bothered to write about it because it makes no sense to me they were included. The reason may yet be understood at some point.
There were some other realizations this morning which kind of took me by surprise because they involved my mother and the possibility she has been guiding me through the art. The reason I wonder about this is because she was an artist as well. She was also a ballerina, loved horses and symphony music. All the things I’ve loved in my life, although the art came later for me. She ensured I was introduced to the music and dance growing up, her involvement not something understood until much later when I realized I was adopted into the Phypers family. Today I am wondering how much she may have influenced my ability to draw and paint, to use it as the tool which has helped me so much along this path. I would say our styles are not the same, but I feel rather blessed thinking it is because of her I have kept going, her gentle nudges in the right direction perhaps how I’ve managed to find my way one mistake at a time. I actually have learned to love most of my mistakes as they often become the turning point to finishing the piece right.
My mother was such an accomplished woman, my father loved around the world for his desire to save us from tyranny. My parents both such charismatic, dynamic people, admired and loved, yet no one really knew them at all. Humans tend to place those types of people on a pedestal. It may be right that we admire them, but I fear it is for all the wrong reasons, thereby deciding they have more value than we do.
My mother was an artist, spoke 4 languages fluently, was a book editor, writer, ballerina, excellent swimmer and horseback rider. Despite my sharing some of her talents, she was everything I’m not and so yes I feel small in the wake of her life. How can I have learned confidence when the one woman who should have taught me, left me in the care of people who hated everything I represented. Not only was I lied to, but was taught to hate who I was, my unique personality taken from me at an age so young it is truly amazing I have retrieved as much as I have. There was hope, I’m sure on the part of those whose goal was to destroy me, my light would never return.
Yet I have pieced myself back together through the art and writing, which for some reason, today feels as though my mother is in some way responsible for encouraging me. She died May 19, 1994. I drew the lion, my very first image, the rabbit and the tiger in the year 1992. Actually it surprises me to look back and see I did all 3 the first year, considering my lack of confidence. Thinking back though, I remember having done more, but when we took them to the art gallery in Calgary, he told me I would have to redo them all because they weren’t done on archival paper, and also he did not like that the paper wasn’t white. That was a tough moment for me because the very idea of having to do them over when I never thought I could do them the first time was overwhelming. It took time to get over the impact of what was said to me that day – the first of many disappointments along the way.
When I think of how often I struggled with each image, it makes me feel quite grateful to realize my mother, or her “spirit” may have been my guide through those days when I truly wanted to give up. Because my mother has not been a big presence in my life, it has been my father who influenced me for the most part on my journey, or so I thought. The truth is I have just not been giving my mother room, so I really don’t know what I feel for her. For the most part in my mind she shoulders the blame for abandoning me to my fate, living in the darkness for so long. It was her decision, no matter how good her intentions may have been, which took my life from me. It seems to me, I am being given the opportunity to change my perspective and allow her back into my life. Thinking about her, I believe I inherited her sense of style, grace, strength and determination, and definitely her love for art, writing, music and surprisingly her taste in scent or perfume. She wore a blend of essential oils which included patchouli, which I love. Time was all we needed to develope a bonded relationship where love would have been natural.
So what was interesting to me as these thoughts swirled through my mind was how different my life could have been had I been left with my surrogate parents, living in an environment of love and compassion. What I became was a shadow of myself, which today struggles to find a place or a purpose, unable to trust or accept my own beauty – that of the hummingbird.
Also there is acknowledgement I am my mothers daughter as well as my fathers. I carry much of her in me, something which feels of late, important to admit. How amazing I never really saw it before, my love for papa overshadowing the amazing aspects of her personality. My love for art, music, ballet, writing and horses inherited from her, not learned. This is obvious when you consider both my age when she disappeared from my life, forgotten for 40 years and how little time we spent together during those first years. The difference between us is that she spent much of her life under the light of the worlds microscope, while I remained in the shadows, easily forgotten. She was given every opportunity, had the means to follow whatever passion she desired. Me? Well again I have lived in a world opposite to hers, one of restrictions and failed attempts. What we did have in common though, was severe trauma and tragedy causing us to make choices we’d rather not have had to. One of those choices for her, was to give me up. Ironically I was forced to make a similar choice with all my children, and for the exact same reason – to protect. Could I have developed into the unique person I’ve become had I lived in her world? My life has made me who I am, so there cannot be any regrets – the love has to shine through it all.
0 Comments