Keeping the Dream

…I gave birth to my first child. This year she gave me my first grandchild. Soon, I will be going to her house and make the rice balls, onigari, my mother used to make for me. We will talk, and admire her little baby. My youngest daughter who adores her big sister will give Dionna the special birthday present she made for her last night, and I will know there is nothing I can give my child, now a woman, that will come close to the wonderful blessing she has been to me.

You know, I’ve been involved in so many causes throughout my life and have thought so many things were important, and a number of them actually were…but when you come right down to it, the greatest joy and the most important things in my life have always been my children.

On my life’s journey, I have not always been so mindful of that, nor have I always been successful in conveying this to them. But I know this is so. Even in my darkest places, there was never a doubt I loved them or just how important they were to me…there were times, when it was the thought of them that pulled me through…

In being truer to myself, I endeavor each day to be truer to my children.

Happy birthday, Dionna. I love you.

Mom

Happy Thanksgiving everyone, and many, many blessings.

I made a post at my relational aggression blog, http://www.relationalaggression.net/blog/2005/11/23/counting-our-blessings/, about the power of gratitude.

May each and every day see you more and more empowered on your healing journey.

Blessings,
Demian,
~DreamSinger

I’m thankful for the love I had inside of me that enabled me to survive an abusive childhood.

I’m thankful for the innocence within each and every person that can never be hurt or destroyed…hidden from view, tucked deep away inside, perhaps, and forgotten, but never defiled, never damaged…no matter what damage may be done. Thankful this place of purity and innocence remains alive, an inexorable part of our being, and for our healing journey to rediscover and reconnect to that source of innocence.

I’m thankful for the moments of peace and beauty I experienced as a kid when nobody was looking…that one very late sunny afternoon in the Fall at the playground, when all the kids had gone home for dinner and I lingered to savor in the moment…how the golden light on the grass made the green more vibrant than anything I’ve ever seen…and in that moment the essence of beauty came forth and claimed me for its own.

I’m thankful for people who ask questions, who seek meaning and when they find none create their own…so beautiful and empowering….flying even with broken wings, lifted up and sustained by the currents of love, of spirit and conviction.

I’m thankful for friends…and enemies, both who support and reveal, who provide me opportunities for insight and growth.

I’m thankful for forgiveness…not only for others but for ourselves…not necessarily having to be given through us if we are not ready, but always accepted by us as we are healing. How wonderful not to be condemned to carry the burden of our pain and anger forever!

I’m thankful for each loving, vulnerable and brave heart, for the people who‚ share their stories, who have inspired me with their strength and vulnerability, and for the people who read who touch the lives of others even by their silence, their caring not being without impact and power.

I’m thankful for family, for my sister who faced her challenge with cancer with dignity and grace, for each moment I got to be with her, for the touch of her soft hands and the healing love of her smile, for my children and the reminder that life is always beginning anew.

Happy Thanksgiving, and may you savor your own reasons to be thankful, opening yourself to receiving more and more as each day unfolds.

Demian,
~DreamSinger

The Flower prays:

Dear Lord, please use me to bring beauty into this world.

Dear Lord, please use me…

Responses range from “yes, it does” to “well, yes, but not perfectly” to “how can you say love protects when innocent children and trusting people get hurt all the time?”

As I ponder this question, I think “protect what?” Our bodies? Our emotional or mental well-being? Well, for a lot of people - hardly.

I don’t know why people get hurt or children suffer. I don’t know why people with such beautiful idealism and openness can get so incredibly abused or why trust can be ripped apart.

Certainly, part of anybody’s healing process is to ask “God” or however they perceive the Divine, “WHY? Why did you let this happen to ME?” and perhaps the most heart wrenching of all, “How could You have let this happen to a child???”

Does Love protect? On the surface it may seem no, or at least if it does, arbitrarily. But in my heart I can’t ignore the voice I keep hearing and it’s saying yes.

Maybe what Love protects isn’t our bodies or even our hearts and minds. Maybe what Love protects is the essence of who we are…so that even in the most horrible of situations, there cocooned deep within the arms of Love, the essence of our being remains whole and safe - even if it’s just a piece - so that when we are ready or willing or able to pull ourselves out of the mire of our pain and despair, there is something within us that is untouched, pure, clean and beautiful…

A seed of a phoenix, a baby phoenix, if you will, a spark that lights up and grows and grows with each question, each seeking of our heart, each whisper of our voice. Despite the betrayal, despite the suffering, despite the anguish and pain.

And perhaps Love protects not as some kind of outside force stepping between us and a harmful event, but through us…maybe Love sounds like the poet’s pen scratching out words on paper or embraces like a seeker of truth coming to new realizations, sharing them with others.

Perhaps each one of us is Love offering its protection of knowledge and wisdom as we share our experiences, heal our wounds and offer our hope to humanity…one person at a time.

One can argue without end whether Love protects or not, whether there’s a difference between Love with a capital “L” or a little “l”, but one thing is certain…Love heals and we’re a part of that healing.

Demian,
~DreamSinger

I was reading Denise Michael’s blog, Spirituality For Women Over 40 , and was moved by her sharing of the loss of a dear friend to cancer. I was just thinking about my sister early this morning.

I like the title of her post “Thanks for the blessings you’ve brought to my life”.

That’s how I feel this morning. Thanks for the blessings…

I’m missing my sister. Still, my heart feels light. Funny…how she can still comfort to me, even though her physical presence is no longer here. She said she’d never leave me. She hasn’t.

Demian,
~DreamSinger - Healing Songs

Well, I’ve been a bit remiss in posting this week here, however, I did make two posts on my relational aggression blog.

I’ve been busy homeschooling my youngest, and trying to get in some writing time to finish my manuscript, “Where There’s Smoke” on the topic of relational aggression. Like all my “DreamSinger” stuff, the focus is on the healing journey, its steps and stages of recovering one’s power after suffering the assaults of this type of manipulative bullying.

Like every other project, I do just about everything from scratch. So while I’m editing my manuscript, I’m also learning about getting the manuscript ready, not only in ebook format but for commercial printing.

I have to say that technologically, I’m learning more about these matters than I ever could have anticipated, and without a doubt, would have been enough to scare me off had I even had a clue!

But when you really love something, your drive and passion will push you past your fears, and even the technologically challenged can find themselves emersed in a strange and wonderful new world…all for the sake of sharing their beloved creative projects with others.

And what may initially appear to be an obstacle, actually becomes another wonderful opportunity to stretch and reach beyond your limitations!

Keeping the Dream
Demian,
~DreamSinger - Healing Songs

Years ago I lay in the back of a borrowed car with my two young children. We had no home address of our own and I was dealing with the wounds of incest.

My children had fallen asleep in my arms, their faces looking so peaceful as they slept. They had total faith that everything would be all right because they believed in their mother; they believed in me.

As I looked at them, a part of me despaired. What if I didn’t have it in me? What if I failed?

I had parked the car next to an open field surrounded by tall trees. There was no moon, but all around us thousands of fireflies floated through trees and between blades of grass. It was as if the entire night sky had bent down to kiss the earth.

The beauty and wonder of the night called to me, gently turning the tide of panic, calming my fears, bringing comfort to my sorrow.

Through the glitter of fireflies and through my fears, I saw myself singing and dancing on the Great Wall of China, a free China. I thought of the young students of Tiananmen Square who had died for their dream to be free; free to think, to ask questions, to use their minds without penalty.

I thought of the ones left in the aftermath of shock and despair.

Each one of them had longed to dance to the unique songs they heard in their hearts and for a brief moment, they did. And now some would never dance again.

But I could. I would dance for them. I would dance for my children…and I would dance for me.

As I let the vision of the night inspire me, I knew I would make it…even if I did not know how, even as I was afraid. It did not matter. I had a dream.

But then I thought what about those who didn’t? What was night like for those who had lost their dream or abandoned it along life’s road or had it stolen? How dark is the night without fireflies, no night sky to bend down to kiss the earth just for them.

So I made another promise. I would dance for the Dream, for everyone’s dream that lies deep within our heart of hearts.

It’s been many years since that night. Those two precious little children have grown, one has a child of her own. I’ve made so many mistakes over the years, have faltered and stumbled over my own feet…have fallen flat on my face…and other parts of my anatomy. But the music within always called me back to my feet. Having a dream is like that.

Once it knows your name, you are never the same. And while I may wish that I had traveled a smoother road, the fact is, I’m here…and my steps are surer and my dance more elegant, more joyful than ever before.

And the dance floor is not empty…

Keeping the Dream,
Demian,
~DreamSinger