Skipping breakfast has become a habit lately, especially when I am scurrying down toward the plaza to write. My passion to write is so powerful that often nothing else seems to matter. This morning, as I strolled down 4th street, the image of a quaint little bakery popped into my relaxed mind. Situated on the corner of 4th Street and 5th Avenue, this delightful little store was right on my way.
As I left the bakery with my prize, a delicious cinnamon roll, I pondered “Why haven’t I done this sooner?” It only cost 7 pesos (about 55 cents), and I just knew it would be a perfect way to take the bite off my slight hunger.
Now, a few minutes later, I find myself sitting on a bench under the shade of the gazebo, with my bare feet in front of me, a cool breeze dancing through the leaves of the nearby trees, and an ocean vista that is ever so tantalizing. What a beautiful place to munch down on my breakfast treat as I begin another magical day of writing.
Over the last couple of years, dreams have begun to play an ever increasing role in my spiritual path. The majority of my dreams continue to elude me, disappearing in the moments right before I open my eyes. Frequently I wake up realizing, “Wow, I know I was totally engulfed in a vivid dream … I sure wish I could remember even the slightest detail of what it was about!”
Every so often, a powerful unforgettable dream works its way into my waking consciousness—such as my “bicycle dream” in early April, or my “Losing my Identity” dream from last fall. Such dreams are so vivid that they even surprise me. When I wake up from a dream like these, the memories are clear, detailed, and powerful.
For the better part of this past year, I have made a concerted effort to hang onto my dreams, to write them down if I can, and to try to decipher their personal meaning. Occasionally, I wake up and write one down in which the events are so crazy that I cannot see how there could possibly be a sensible meaning. Such was the case last Thursday morning.
I was in a bowling alley with a former friend—a friend with whom I spent considerable time prior to about ten years ago. Not wanting to spend much time in picking out the perfect “bowling ball”, I simply grabbed one of the first ones off the rack. This ball did not fit my grip well, but I was not concerned. Rather than having the normal three holes for my thumb and two fingers, this one had holes all over it. Every time I picked it up, I had to keep fumbling around until I found a combination of three holes that fit my hand.
As I walked up to the lane to throw my first ball, I took careful aim around all of the obstacles in the lane. These obstacles partially blocked my view, but strangely enough, they seemed quite ordinary to me. After releasing the ball, I leaned to the right so I could get a clear view of the ten pins at the end of the lane. I had made a weak throw, but my aim was spot on. One by one the pins toppled over, with the last one barely falling as another spinning pin just clipped it with enough force to knock it off balance. “I got a strike!” Jumping for joy, I turned around to celebrate with my friend.
Then I realized that she was not there, nowhere to be found. I abandoned my game, went outside and noticed her up on the roof, crying. I started to ask her “What is wrong? What can I do to help?” Before she had time to answer, a married couple came out of the bowling alley, calling to me “Brenda, it is your turn, get back in here.”
In my dream state this seemed perfectly normal. I guess I was really bowling with this couple, not my former friend.
Grabbing my bowling ball, I again fumbled around for a minute to figure out which three holes would best fit my thumb and fingers. As I walked up to the lane, I realized that something was different. This lane was shorter and had so many obstacles in it that I could just barely see the head pin.
By now, the realization sank in that we had shifted to a new lane, and I asked the couple “What happened to our other lane?”
“When you were outside, the owner switched us to this new lane.” The woman began. “He didn’t give a reason, but seemed to think we wouldn’t mind.”
A sense of anger and self-righteousness rose up inside of me. “This is not right!” I exclaimed. “We cannot bowl on this lane, we have to find the owner and demand that he put us back on the other lane.”
Immediately, the three of us set off in different directions to find the owner, to complain and to demand that he give us our “good lane” back.
I first went to the front counter, looking for the owner. Instead, four burley men were standing there. When I asked where I could find their boss, one of the men told me “I will have the owner call you on your cell phone.” It didn’t even seem strange that I had never given anyone my cell phone number.
For some reason, I didn’t ask these men to resolve my problem, instead I insisted on seeing the owner. The next thing I know, I was outside in the yard, looking everywhere for him. I walked into a large mansion, realizing it belonged to the owner. I passed through long wide hallways with many adjacent rooms and elaborate doors. After passing through several such hallways, I suddenly realized that I was trespassing.
Hearing someone in the next room, I turned around in a panic and began to retrace my steps. “I better get out of here.” I thought to myself. “I could get in real trouble.”
As I began debating what to do, I suddenly woke up.
“Wow, that was a really crazy dream.” I thought to myself. “I’ll never make sense of this one.”
It almost didn’t seem worth the bother to get up to write down the details, but something inside reminded me, “You know that you’ll never get better at remembering your dreams if you don’t take the time to get up and write about them!”
Ten minutes later, I rested my head back on my pillow. “We were talking about a Cozumel bowling league at breakfast yesterday.” I reminded myself. “Maybe this was just a silly dream triggered by thinking about bowling. I’ll never figure this one out.” Soon I was back asleep, not giving the dream a second thought—until last night that is.
Seeds of Understanding
After going to bed last night, while I lay pondering on my pillow, I was again filled with gratitude, feeling a special closeness to my soul—to everyone and everything around me. As the energetic aliveness flowed through my awareness, I began to reflect back on my strange bowling dream. Suddenly, the ideas began to flow.
Sometimes in life, we are oblivious to the internal obstacles that block our true vision. We continue to ‘bowl’ around these obstacles, becoming very accustomed to them; we see them as quite normal, or we don’t even see them at all. Often, we are capable of ‘bowling strikes’ in spite of what may be blocking our ability to see more clearly. We just accept that our filtered vision is “all there is” and we don’t take the time to search our souls—to awaken to our true vision. Yes, we are quite comfortable where we are at.
When someone moves us to a lane with more obstacles, our awareness suddenly wakes up with “Hey … this is not right … I need to do something to fix it.” We are forced out of our comfort zone and it is clearly obvious that our vision is now blocked—even though it has been blocked all along. We might envision that the solution we seek is to simply return to the comfort of what we knew before. We may realize that indeed there were obstacles on our previous lane, but those obstacles were manageable—they were known and familiar.
Then we go searching for something external to fix. In the midst of running around to fix “someone else,” we get stuck in their private space—space in which we don’t belong—getting us into even more trouble. In my dream, I ended up running through the manager’s mansion so that I could demand that he make external changes on my behalf. It was only after being there for a while that I even realized I was trespassing.
Rather than getting into others’ business, searching for external fixes and pointing the blame at things beyond our control, we instead need to place our focus inward—we need to fix our own obstacles—the ones that keep us from seeing clearly through unfiltered lenses. Our solution comes only from within.
Digging Deeper
After exploring these thoughts, I placed my notebook back on the nightstand, believing I had taken this analogy as far as it needed to go. Amazement settled in as I recognized how clearly the insights had flowed into my awareness—and at how much sense those words actually made.
But I was stuck in a spiritual trap. I was still not applying these insights to myself. My own internal obstacles were causing me to project these lessons as being needed by others. I had not yet realized they were aimed at me.
As I again “pillow-pondered”, the wonderings began to bubble. “Was this dream more personal? Was it trying to tell me something about my own obstacles? I wonder what obstacles are in my lane, right here, right now … what is the universe trying to communicate to me?
Humility flowed through my veins when I realized the dream was not for others at all—it was indeed for my benefit.
I love the lane I am on. I am having a blast as I practice skillfully rolling my ball down this lane—and yes, I am actually hitting a fair number of strikes.
But I’m so focused on knocking over the pins at the end of the lane that I’m not paying attention to the smaller obstacles right in front of me. While aiming for my spiritual destination with such strong passion, I’m not seeing the smaller barriers right in front of me—the ones that continue to filter my vision—that continue to handicap my game.
I began to think about how much better I could bowl if my lane were one hundred percent spiritually clear.
“Don’t be so blind that you have to get moved to a new lane with more obstacles before you get the message.” This amazing little warning flowed clearly into my soul.
I began to ponder “Just what are some of the obstacles in my lane?” Following are the ones that popped to the forefront of my awareness. I know there are probably others, but these are good for starters.
– I still battle with some very strange beliefs about sleep. When strong promptings tell me to stay up late or get up early—or to even get up in the middle of the night—I still frequently resist. My ego tells me “If I don’t get my eight hours during these precious night time hours, I will not be able to function.” From experience, I know this to be false—but I continue to resist when my inner voices say “Get up NOW.” I can only imagine how much better my bowling game might be if I were willing to receive clearer, more consistent spiritual guidance during these more-in-tune times when the sun is not shining.
– I still frequently get stuck in time wasters that have a way of numbing me down. While none of these are inherently bad or wrong, I see how they sap my energy and distract me from pursuits that my heart wants to follow.
– For years I have wanted to begin a regular yoga and stretching program, yet I continue to put it off. As my body begins to feel the stiffening effects of aging, I recognize just how vital a well functioning and flexible body can be to my continued bowling.
– As much as my intuition is already driving my life, I still struggle with establishing regular mediation habits. I often ponder about how much more spiritual guidance I might be able to receive if I were more consistent and disciplined in my meditation efforts.
Gratitude fills my soul at the fact that last night I was willing to sit up in the dark of night to listen to my spiritual guides. Midnight had long-since passed as I prepared to finally drift off to sleep. As my consciousness slowly drifted into the ether, my intuition was proclaiming loudly, “It might be time to pay closer attention to some of these obstacles”
Another thought also passed through my mind. “I never figured out the significance of the strange bowling ball with all the holes—or why was my former friend there—or the big burley men … I’ll have to give this one a little more thought.”
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved