Tarot readings are funny. They always go so fast that I’m like –Wait! What did you just say?- Of course I consider these readings to be purely for fun, I don’t walk away with some new hope that what was “in the cards” is going to become fact. I think that’s the sensible part of me.
Everything is subjective to your own interpretation. God we as people could read into anything and make it completely opposite of what was really meant. It’s a way to mask or cope with hurt feelings – a way to be totally clueless. Being clueless is not a way to live a life. It’s a way to divert from one.
A friend asked me over dinner last night if I kept a dream journal. She’d been having vivid dreams that she felt were telling her something. I don’t keep one. To me my dreams, the kind I have while sleeping are a type of therapy. It’s where I release sadness, anger, lust, even heartache in a few random firings of my brain. Why would I want to rehash that? Why’d I want to analysis and contemplate something that happens not by choice.
My slumbered visions aren’t my dreams. My dreams are made when I’m awake – there what I strive for –let it be writing a poem that gets published, running a non-profit, getting promoted, going to Mt. Rainer and basking in it’s glory or just meeting new people that will take my life into a whole new direction. The dreams I have for myself are so much more powerful than any I can randomly create while I’m asleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment