I want to assure any reader that my strong intention is to never let this blogging idea become an exercise in navel gazing. I am instantly bored with self-indulgent personal pieces that allow a writer to have the exercise of verbalizing stories or concerns, but that do nothing to inspire, provide insight or at least entertain the reader. My passionate interest, and my doctorate, are in the study of the the psyche – specifically the human psyche but also the objective psyche. Carl Jung is quoted as saying that in our era the entire world is hanging on a thin thread, and that thread is the psyche of man. To the extent that this is true, for me there is no more important area to apply attention and consistent research. I don’t think I ever take a breath in which I’m not applying myself to this in some way. Often, of course, my research by necessity involves the study of my own dreams and psyche and how they weave together with our consensual reality as well as other levels of existence and being. But in my teaching and writing I try hard to walk the line between self-indulgent interest in how it all looks from the inside here in my little universe, and what might be of use in our mutual exploration into the nature of psyche and dreams in the shared universe.
This being said, I want to mention a clue that came to me in a recent dream. I have no idea what the meaning of it might be, but strange synchronicities keep inviting me to follow the white rabbit down the rabbit hole to see where it leads. In the dream I am still in the ministry which I resigned from in 1994, and my desk has one little window that faces out onto a lovely tree-lined street. I have never had any inclination to decorate this window, but suddenly I decide to and I begin, and with enthusiasm gather beautiful transparencies to place on the window – one of a tree, one with some beautiful red in it, and others. When I woke up I had the thought that the window might be my psyche’s way of referring to this blog; suddenly I’m decorating my little connection to the world outside.
Next in the dream we are selling all of the real estate on the outside areas of the ministry grounds and keeping one little piece of property at the heart of it, as well as the area that includes my desk area with the outside window. Prospective buyers arrive and we decide to describe the reason for selling the outside pieces and keeping the inside as – something to do with “Dover” – which made humorous sense to everyone in the dream but me, but I determined to just tell it like they said to tell it and hope whoever was listening would get it. Maybe that is exactly what I am doing right now. That was the dream, but the word Dover seemed to be kind of burned into my mind.
I kept turning the word over and over in my head the next day. I brought in the mail and opened a first class envelope addressed to me that immediately gave me a strange feeling. I, Tayria, have been chosen and am invited into a special secret society that many important people all over the world are a part of. They have been watching me and decided that because of distinguishing qualifications they want me to become part of their secret society. They use the name “Tayria” in every other sentence or so to make sure that I know that I am personally singled out for this honor. The letter is obviously some kind of hoax or scam, and I look to see where the people are from who sent it to me. There is only a Post Office box – in Dover, Delaware. I must reply by Friday or the privilege of invitation will have passed me by. So weird.
I am currently reading a history/biography that has just been published called The Lady in the Tower: The Fall of Anne Boleyn. I can’t tell you why, but all my life I have had an interest in Tudor history and have read dozens of novels and histories about that time in English history. Last night I got to the part just before Anne is to be arrested on trumped up charges of treason. She doesn’t know of the plot yet, but is instead excited because she and Henry have plans to go to Dover. She is particularly hopeful because, the book goes on to say, it was at Dover that they had their first very romantic time together and she is hoping this visit will rekindle some of their early passion for each other. The chapter ends leaving the reader with the knowledge that they will never make it to Dover because the treachery is now closing in on her.
What? I really don’t get this. But I do believe in synchronicity and feel that something is afoot and I have to keep paying attention. I’m leaving this topic here now, hoping it will end up being similar to the place in a novel where the author leaves a clue hanging; and a hundred pages later they pick it up again. I will definitely write about it if the universe gives me more to work with here. And this is an invitation to the universe to let us in on the secret!