Friday, March 21, 2008

False Accusations and the Dire Wolf

False Accusations and the Dire Wolf

I am at a  camp with many people around me engaged in some activity when "Yolanda,"  a very large black woman with wide waxy features, is sitting on the ground hollering that I hit her.  I am 20-25 feet away with another group of people engaged in some activity, but I go running over to Yolanda, whom people are helping up, and say, "I did not hit you, I was nowhere near you, I was way over there and I have witnesses."  She takes me by the hand and leads me to a window where trophies are displayed.  Among some that I have made is one that us clearly manufactured and she says, "You spelled the name wrong.  It is a black trophy that says "Micaelson's."  Clearly, it is not one of the ones I made and the name is spelled correctly in this instance (this Micaelson's has no "h").  I try to explain to Yolanda that it wasn't a trophy I made and that the name is actually spelled correctly.  I ask her for a hug, but she's not sure she wants to give me one.  (She's a friend of mine). 

While she is vacillating, I notice out of the corner of my eye some movement and turn to look and see an extremely large dark (black?) wolf charging down the road, moving like a freight train, powerful and threatening.  I step between Yolanda and the oncoming wolf, tackle the wolf as it arrives, throw it down, grab it by the jaw, put my knee on it's chest, and subdue it.  I am feeling very powerful.  I tell Yolanda that I am a Shaman and I can do this.  The Wolf is gnawing my fingers some and I have a moment of doubt where I become nearly lucid and am wondering if I can really do this and am I doing it right, but I succeed and the wolf shrinks from a HUGE wolf to a very small fox.  I point down the road past the building with the trophies and say, "Go," loudly, and in my firmest voice.  The little fox gets up and starts  slinking away with its tail between it's legs and I say, "Go," again.  It goes slowly a little farther and I have a sudden realization.  "It wants to be my spirit guide,"  I say to Yolanda, who still standing there watching.  "Okay, come on," I say and the little fox turns, gallops back and leaps onto my shoulders, curling around my neck (like a fur cape or like the daemons in the Phillip Pullman books (e.g.:  The Golden Compass, Amber Spyglass, etc). 

My two other Wolf spirit guides are jealous and one begins attacking the fox.  "No, play nice," I say, forcing the attacking wolf's head down repeatedly.  The other two seem to accept a suspicious truce with the newcomer.

When I wake up, my first thought is that if this new wolf-fox is a spirit guide, perhaps I should not have "vanquished" it and diminished it, for it would be more powerful if it were larger (perhaps).  I am not sure I did the right thing.  It seems as if needs to be in possession of its full spirit

It is not clear to me now who it was attacking.  I thought, in the dream, that it was attacking "us," Yolanda and me.  Not her, not me, but us.  I thought I was protecting her with my Shaman powers.  I was protecting her in spite of the fact that she had twice falsely accused me because she was my friend (and because she was a person.)

The wolf was also the third attack.

This reminds me of the whole thing with Rita where I feel as if I am being falsely accused and falsely demonized for something I did not do.

The three wolves also remind me of three children ("play nice"), though none of my other children are attacking Graham.  But if the two wolves are my brothers, the one attacking could be Rita standing in for Tom, rightly or wrongly. Dunno.

Perhaps the dream is telling me that when someone falsely accuses me, I should not attack with full artillery and diminish or vanquish the attacker, though in the dream I was being very reasonable in spite of Yolanda's unreasonableness and totally false accusations.  OR perhaps the dream is saying exactly the opposite, that I tend to hang back and try to smooth things over and I should show my inner strength and fortitude.  (Now I am thinking of a specific incident where I was falsely accused of turning a glass upside down on the counter and making a wet spot when I did not do that.  And several other incidents I won't revisit.  Things like that utterly INFURIATE ME!)  Because I appeared to have been attacked twice by Yolanda and once by the wolf and I handled the attacks differently.  With Yolanda, I was more than reasonable, but I vanquished the wolf.

There also remains the possibility that the wolf in this case was bad or evil.  But since I was a Shaman and since it wanted to be a spirit guide, I think not.  (But I am not sure.)  I still feel that if the Wolf/Fox is a spirit guide, it may need to be released to be as powerful as it needs to be.  (Maybe I need to be released to be as powerful as I need to be and at the same time, given my freedom to be powerful, rein myself in a little.)

Black Wolf/Red Fox, who are you?

I am Loqi, Lord Loqi, Wolf King of the Southern Red Tribes, and I am Little Loqi, Fox Master of Cunning and Trickery.  And I am Large Loqi, the Dire Wolf.  We are here to help fill your complement of power.  You have a high Northern (Arctic) Wolf, a mid northern Grey wolf, and me.  We are of one clan, yet my coming deepens your strength and power.  Embrace me.

Should I free you to be large again?

NO.  You needn't.  You have done what a Shaman must do, shown your power, but you have not vanquished me.  I am more powerful than you can know.  I am god.  I can be big in the blink of an eye.  I can be Maha Kali.  It is kind of you to be concerned, even if your concern is actually for yourself, but you needn't worry.  I am power, even as Little Loqi.  And I am with you.

Is this just wishful thinking of some kind?

Of course it is.  Yes--and no.  It is as you make it.  As you accept it.  As you honor it and make it yours.  We are yours.  You are ours.  We exist on the imaginal plane, you know that, but it doesn't make us less real or less powerful, remember that in the face of doubt.

What about Yolanda?

Speak to Yolanda.

Yolanda, who are you?

I am your self doubts and your obstacles.  But you know the saying, "make your stumbling blocks into stepping stones."  I can be your ally too.

Really?  I can use all the help I can get, how can you help me?

Notice how I look like wax?  I am a candle-torch to light the way.  I can show you how to overcome your self doubts and use your stumbling blocks as stepping stones.

Really, how?

Just ask--the LISTEN!  Call me, say YO, Yolanda?  And I will come.

YO-Yolanda, what about the false accusation thing?  Why am I being falsely accused and what should I do about it and how can I reweave the fabric of the family?

Tough questions.  Very tough.  Not all the accusations are false.


Well, you do favor your own children.  "Even the tax collectors love their children."

Well, yeah, I'm human.  Like everyone else.  Often all too human.

Remember that.  So are your accusers.

But how can I fix things?  I want to fix things!

Keep your nose clean.  Be unceasingly honorable.

What does that mean?  What can I DO?  And how can I do it, being as imperfect as I am and being sick and tired and not sleeping well.

Call on Loqi and your other spirit guides, call on me, call on Jesus and Buddha, do you best.  Use you power, but use it wisely.

These are all nice things to say but not very specific.  Kind of wise generalizations.  Can you tell me something specific?

Seek balance.  Keep on keeping on.

More pap, generalizations.  Nice but is it helpful?  WAHN!  I need HELP!

I did not hit Yolanda, but I did hit the wolf--two approaches to attack.  One to verbal attack and one to physical attack.  To verbal attack, I tried a verbal response--to physical attack, a physical response.  Neither result was exactly what I wanted--with Yolanda, I wanted to restore peace.  The wolf was more successful, I guess--first I wanted to protect Yolanda and myself from attack, then to vanquish it, then to accept it, and I succeeded at each of these, but the final result was uncertain.

Yolanda doesn't want to give me a hug after explain how it is she who is wrong and not me--even though I am right and she is wrong and I just want to be friends.  I never want to hug anyone who tells me (how) I am wrong, either.

In this dream, I am right in both cases with Yolanda and I am powerful with the wolf, but being right and being powerful does not necessarily get me the results I want or need--that is, doesn't give me the best outcome.  I have a flaw in a sense.  I am so attached to being right (when I believe I truly am) that I will give up being happy for being right, which is not necessarily the best choice.

Could this really happen--this dream as dreamed?  Perhaps, but it is very unlikely.  Both Yolanda and the Wolf were very large.  It is more likely to be symbolic.

The dream still feels very powerful.

And it still feels somewhat unresolved.

Slogan(s):  Things are not always what they seem.  The right solution for the right problem, the right answer to the right question.  Use power with discretion.  Find balance.  Turn stumbling bocks into stepping stones.

Question:  What does the Wolf-Shaman portion of the dream have to do with the false accusation part of the dream, other than the fact that they are both attacks of sorts.  How does the one shed light on the other?  I can't exactly attack the false accuser, tackle them, hold them by the jaw and subdue them!!!

What would Jesus do?  Well, Jesus overturned the tables of the money-changers!  But how does one know where to use power and where to use diplomacy?  I am not Jesus, not Buddha, not Maha Kali, not wise, and often stupid and foolish.

If my subconscious mind knows any answers to this dilemma, it, in the form of Yolanda and Loqi, is not spitting out any real substantive (specific) answers.  I guess I need to dream on it/cogitate about it/journey about it some more.

Maybe the huge black wolf is symbolic of the giant rift forming in the family over the problems related to Mom's will etc.

My two spirit guide wolves who show up at the end, where were they when the dire wolf was attacking?  I guess I had to prove my power unaided?

Title:  False Accusations and the Dire Wolf

Once again, I have two parts which, when I think about a poem to honor the dream, don't necessarily seem to go together. I'm not sure what Yolanda and Loqi have to do with each  other, other than the link of attack.

Perhaps the poem can be written in a "sonnet" form with two stanzas that seem unrelated but somehow shed light on each (just as the structure of the dream.)

False Accusations and the Dire Wolf

Yolanda unexpectedly tumbles.  Her skirts fly.  She lands akimbo
on the ground, disarrayed.  Hollers "she hit me;" points at me. 
Shakes her finger.  I'm yards away.  And innocent. 
Indignant at the false accusation, I dash over to defend
myself as bystanders help her up.  She leads me to a window display
of trophies, pointing to one that says "Micaelson's."  "You spelled it wrong,"
she says, her voice rising with anger.  "I didn't make that one," I explain.
I point to the trophies I made, hand-carved from wood, unvarnished.
The one she's pointing at is black, fancy, plastic and metal, manufactured. 
"And anyway, Camp Micaelson's has no "h" even if I had
made it."  I ask her to hug me, to heal this rift between us. 
She wavers, withholding.

Down the road toward us, a wolf charges, huge, black, bent on attack.
Without hesitation, I step between the wolf and Yolanda.  As it springs,
I tackle it, knocking it down, grabbing it by the jaw, putting a knee
on its chest.  It gnaws my hand; we struggle.  Breathlessly, I tell Yolanda
I am a Shaman and can subdue the wolf, but I am not so sure.  The wolf
fights with power and strength.  I wonder if I am I courageous
and tenacious or simply puny.  I feel puny, but battle on and on
until the wolf shrinks to a small fox.  "Go," I say pointing down the road. 
It slinks away, tail between it's legs, then pauses, looking back.

"It wants to be my spirit guide," I tell Yolanda, "Come on," I call.
The small fox runs back.  My other two wolves attack it.  "Down," I say,
"play nice." The fox leaps to my shoulders, curls like a shawl
around my shoulders.  Wolves on either side, fox on my shoulder,
I smile at Yolanda and say nothing more.

Mary Stebbins Taitt

Now that I have written this as a poem, it seems like simple wishful thinking, that I could be powerful and make things right.  Have powerful allies.

But, that's OK, I guess. 

I still wish things would work themselves out the way I think the should be--the family in unity and close, but, I guess I don't necessarily get my wish. 

Yolanda makes a couple of really weird, off the wall, totally inappropriate accusations, which, is what I feel the Rita is doing to me.  I'm sure she feels differently, or she wouldn't do it.  But I don't understand where she's coming from or if she in fact is truly behaving honorably.

Question:  what is my part in this?  If I can't change them, can I change ME?  Perhaps, perhaps not.  How MIGHT I change me to make things better?  And would it be an APPROPRIATE, honorable, honest change?

The Dire WOLF is me when I feel that I've been falsely accused, LOL!  (OK, not really funny.)   I tend to have two modes, either attack back or placate.  Is there a good middle ground?  One that shows power, courage and honor?  WHAT IS IT?

It occurs to me, after printing and rereading what I wrote above, that the trophies might also have some meaning.  Trophies are wins.  Victories.  Victories could be good or bad.  Trophy has a pejorative meaning when referring to people who kill and collect animal heads or women who collect rich men or men who collect pretty women.  But a well-earned trophy can be a good thing.

Am I trying to win the wrong kind of trophy somehow?  (Perhaps by being right instead of good?)  [Subconsciously if not consciously?]

I guess it depends on how you define "winning."  In my mind, a real win would be for the family to be close again.  My fear is that will never happen now.  The real trophy would be a happy loving family.  If the dream is even about the rift--I am acting as if it is because it feels that way.

There is also the issue of Micaelson.  I Google it and it's a real name.  There is an Ingrid Micaelson who is a singer, And a whole slew of others.  Dunno if there's a camp Micaelson.  Didn't check that.  I do.  There are none listed.  Interestingly, however, there is a Camp Michaelson:  "Jordan had a great time at "camp michaelson" - and she is ready to enroll in another session."  SO maybe someone DID spell it wrong (?)--why was I so sure Micaelson was correct in this case?  [I surely was sure!]  But I didn't make that trophy anyway.  Or maybe my dream camp isn't lsited in google yet, LOL!

Maybe I do to the Wolf in the dream what some part of me wants to do to Yolanda.  But I feel that we are friends and I want that friendship to survive, rekindle.  Maybe the dream is a simple expression of the ambivalence that accompanies all relationships and their struggles and issues.

In the dream, Yolanda was a friend and coworker, but I don't work at a camp and have no friends or coworkers who look or act like Yolanda in the dream.  The closest person to how she looks is a poet named Evie, but Yolanda really didn't look like Evie, she was bigger, had a flatter face (as if perhaps she was half Asian?) and was waxy looking.

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

The Obstacle Course to doing my pract...

The Obstacle Course to doing my practicing

We drive and drive down many roads, trying to get to E's school.  Finally, we arrive, after being lost for a long time.  E shows and guides me about.  She takes me to a room where there is a piano so I can do my practicing, but the route through the buildings is a series of obstacle courses.  We have to walk through classrooms of busy kids (running around with lively activities) and climb over and under desks and tables that have been pushed into the pathway and get tripped up by rolling balls.  It's one thing after another.  When we finally get to the practice room where there is a piano I can use, a rehearsal  is going on in the room.  I want to do my practicing anyway, but E steers me back out of the room and down the hall again.  She is not going to allow me to possibly disrupt the rehearsal.  On the way back down the hall, a woman and a small boy stand in the room with the balls where other kids are playing and having fun.  They want to play and are very sad because they are not allowed to (the boy is too young).  (He feels as I feel--sad not to be allowed to play [in my case, the piano]!!!)  I have a recital this evening (or sometime soon, and need to work through some knotty phrases.  How will I accomplish this if I cannot practice!  I feel tense.

This dream is interesting to me, because I do not play the piano.  I have often wished I did, wanted to.  But I don't.

Either I still want to, or I am worried about Graham's practicing or I am worried about my own "practicing" of some other skill and feeling thwarted in that (or all of the above.)

Could this happen as dreamed?  It could, but seems very unlikely.  It was quite realistic.  But I think it is more likely to represent my concerns over my painting or poetry practice, my longing to be able to make music, my concerns over Graham's practicing.

"I am sad not to be allowed to play the piano."  Who disallows me?  I do.  I don't want to start learning ANOTHER new skill when I am already feeling overwhelmed by everything I am wanting to do and accomplish (my novels, my poetry manuscripts, photography, art, illustration, children's picture books, cleaning the house, sorting stuff, etc etc.  Would I have time to practice?  Would I make a fool of myself?  Be bad at it?  Progress unbearably slowly?  Would it interfere with my writing?

What obstacles prevent me from:
  1. practicing?
  2. playing music?
  3. playing and having fun?
  4. excelling at my endeavors

In most cases, the obstacles are self-generated, though there are also external obstacles--my health, limits to the amount of available time and energy, other commitments.

It is interesting that in this dream, my child plays the roll of guide and "parent."  [This is sort of scary and reminds me of the issue of aging and having to be a mother of sorts to my mother before she died.]  Not sure how to include that in the poem below, though.  It's an extra layer of complication, which seems to require its own separate exploration.  OR DOES IT RELATE to the problem at hand somehow?  Is E or a "parental figure/guide" or child somehow preventing me from practicing, playing, making music, accomplishing my goals?  Or is it E's goals I am worried about?  WOW!  Very complex.  Or is E a teacher here?  My child and my guide/teacher?  Confusing.  Or is she representing the inner parental self?  Or--all of the above?

The Obstacle Course

I clamber over a desk shoved into the hallway,
crawl under another piled too high with books
and equipment to climb over, a over third
and under a fourth.  My daughter steers me. 
We trip on rolling balls, dodge running children. 
Down one hall and another, though endless
buildings we walk and walk and walk.  The school
is huge, the practice room and piano at the far end
of campus.  I am eager to work through knotty phrases
and tight places for my recital tonight.  But when we finally
find the practice room, a rehearsal is going on.  I want
to practice, to run my fingers over the keys, to pound
and linger, to pump the pedals, but I cannot. 
I clutch my hands together, moaning in frustration
as my daughter pushes me away.  Back
in the room with the balls, a small boy
stands watching, weeping because he cannot play.

Mary Stebbins Taitt

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Potatoes and onions

Potatoes and onions

We are in a large grocery warehouse area taking pictures of potatoes and onions when we are given a big paper sack and asked to transfer some of the onions into the sack.  We begin doing that.  At the bottom, we discover some that are growing in a slimy mess.  (AS usual, there wa smuch more to the dream, but this is all I can clearly remember.)

We are painting stained glass windows.  (I want to make glass prints.  Try it).

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

The cactus Hat

The cactus Hat

We are in a hallway of a dormitory or other similar building and a cheerful man is running around going into people's room showing them his cactus pants.  They are small pants for three-year old maybe in white, red and blue with circular spots.  They don't look like cacti.

Or, he says, you can wear them as a hat.  He puts it on his head and it transforms to a hat.  It's an interesting colorful hat and I admire it teasingly and half-seriously to him.

There was more to this dream, but this is all I remember at the moment