Dreamways

I played the piano three hours yesterday. My entire colorful paper repertoire. It felt like I actually am able to sustain a field of pieces, a repertoire, not just the old pattern of linearity, old pieces never revisited. A stronger sense of center at the keyboard. Understanding emotional stories for pieces like never before. Feeling expressive, meaningful. Not just mechanical.

Theme: reclaiming my Past. Regardless what and how occurred, to not be ashamed, to stop the process of Erasure.

Sleep Dream. I meet a young fellow downtown. At H&H?  His name is Chris Jaunarājs. He is in his mid twenties. Physically the gestalt of Uldis, but his face is longer, less square, his straight hair brownish blond. He speaks no Latvian. He is new in town, from Rhode Island. He is gay. Very friendly, outgoing. We discuss our common surname. I tell him that it is totally amazing that a third strand of Jaunarājs is in Denver.  read more »

Tuesday morning. The sky is ashy gray. There is a trace of snow on horizontal surfaces. Once again, after the ash trees have exhuberantly leafed out to greet spring, winter reasserts itself. Poor trees!  read more »

Vision.  I’m in Paseo Park. It is daytime. A golden sunlight caresses everything. I am standing, I am hovering. There are no people around. The streets are quiet, but the feeling is friendly, rather than ominous. I am across from Stratton, looking at the school. I look at the red brick apartments across from Stratton. I ponder what I’m seeing.

I’m at the Union Blvd. house, current and past, outside the house and inside. I look with what feels like true compassionate curiosity. My Heart opens up to this childhood geography.  read more »

D came into town with Lar this morning. We spent hours together, working on our newest script. We stopped in to Pete’s for a cuppa. Behind the counter was – Lannie from the lofts! Knowing what I do of her life via HOA stuff, the role whe has played in the Hubbub, her real estate wheeling-dealings, it weirded me out, to see her working there. Finances must be lousy for her and Chad…

Regarding Piano playing, it was always, always a process of never being good enough. Ever. Even when a recital went well, it was always implicit that there were numerous things that could have been better. (Although, of course, with the Ditch, there was never explicit discussion of WHAT it was that could be improved, much less, HOW anything could be improved. Never was there a sense of :“That went really well! Be happy with how it went!“

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Yesterday F and I met Bret for coffee. B to me: „How is it for you, to journal in Latvian and translate to English for your Dreamways blog?“ V: „I made a decision a while back to start journaling in English, so I wouldn’t have to translate, since almost all of any readership would be English speaking.“ A hard decision that was, to accept the reality that Latvian doesn’t connect most of my interests with anyone. Latvian, on the living people level, doesn’t connect me. For me, it is the language of Poetry, connecting me to archetypes and poets, to various Pasts.  read more »

The Three virtues: Mindfulness, Heartfulness,and Dreamfulness. Oren is vitally interested in my meanifesting them. „They, dear Vitauts, are what it’s all about!“ All interactions are opportunities for me to practice them. The details of my situaiton are neither significant, nor Personal. No matter how, no matter what, it’s an opportunity to practice being embodied, to manifrest the Golden Three.

Also, it is about me cultivating Relationship with Oren and Dieviņš. It’s not about me just passively awaiting their arrival.  read more »

Sleep Dream.   I am at the Cedar St. house of Grāvele. It is sunny, spring. I’m in the kitchen (which waking Vitauts doesn’t at all remember) by myself. The space feels odd, but not at all threatening, a bit sterile, like no one really lives there, like a motel. There is going to be some sort of Latvian gathering there. In though the back door arrive half a dozen or so people. A tall and hefty fellow comes right up to me, smiling tentatively, as if he knows me. I’m not certain who he is, but feel OK with it. He holds out his right hand.  read more »

Sleep Dreams.  I’m at some sort of eatery / bar, a chain type of public place in a Lakewood-type area, west of Denver. I’m with Sally Smith. It’s been like an FAC, everyone else has left. It’s night. I say that I’m going to walk home to Denver. Sally, surprisingly, says she’ll join me in the walk. I realize I’m barefoot, but figure that I can make the walk nonetheless, since a lot of it will be through mud. When I mention mud, I figure Sally will back out.  read more »