Dreams are such a wonderful thing.

You can do anything, be anything, go anywhere, and it doesn't cost a thing. I can dream of something as outrageous as seeing commercial spaceflight become affordable enough in my lifetime that I may one day walk on the moon, or even Mars. Or something as simple as hiking across Tibet or Nepal one day soon. Or something as wonderful as finally meeting someone to fall in love with and spend the rest of my days beside. There is no limit.

And that's what can make dreams so dangerous.

It's awfully easy to get so caught up in dreaming that we get our heads up in the clouds, where we can't see what's around us. Placing our minds so far into "then" that we completely lose "now". And there's so much to see now. If we trace back into our lives, we may find that we're living many of our old dreams in the current moment. We may also find many opportunities to to find the path that will one day lead us to our dreams of today.

So dream away, but don't lose the now in the process. Take the time to appreciate the dreams you've already fulfilled, and take the time to seek out the dreams you haven't. And don't worry if some of those dreams are unrealistic, or perhaps even a bit silly. Walk towards them nonetheless, and revel in every step you make on that path. You just might find things you hadn't even dreamed about on the way.

Isn't it funny how sometimes the strangest things can trigger memories? I'm fascinated by the way our brains can connect the dots between two seemingly dissimilar things. Like how trying to pick out a bottle of wine can remind me of connecting on a deep level for the first time with a close friend.

I was doing a bit of grocery shopping Saturday afternoon, and while I was there decided to pick up a bottle of wine to have with dinner. I was kinda wishy-washy about what kind to get, and a bottle with a picture of a deer on it caught me eye. I thought to myself, "if only it were a horse, I'd buy it!"

Why a horse? It connects back to that conversation...

We live very far away from each other, so we planned out a night where we'd have a "wine date" where we set up a time to talk on the phone, drink some wine, and spend some time getting to know each other a bit better. Outside of the deeper, more personal stuff there were random bits of more superficial stuff, one of which was discussing picking out wine. She admitted that, while a big fan of wine, she was far from a connoisseur and frequently picked out bottles by what had the prettiest label. Since she has a special place in her heart for horses, she always buys the bottle with the horse on the label when she sees it. And, without fail, every time it has been a very good bottle of wine. So I joked about how I'd keep an eye out for wine with horses on the labels, maybe even ask them if they have any "horse wine" just to see the look on their faces.

So that bottle of wine with a deer on the label triggered memories of what was, frankly, one of the most wonderful conversations I've ever had with another human being. A truly profound experience, one I'll carry with me for the rest of my days.

It's a rather windy day here today, a storm front blew through earlier and the air remains unsettled. I've been observing and thinking about the wind for a while today.

Wind is such a powerful force. It can tear the limbs from trees, even topple whole trees themselves. It shapes the dunes of the world's deserts. It topples power lines and leaves us in the dark. It tightens into tornadoes and destroys homes and takes lives. It swirls into hurricanes and wipes out entire cities. At the same time, it can carry the seeds of life in it's arms, spreading nature's beauty. A gentle breeze on a warm summer afternoon can cool and soothe our brow. It can be harnessed to provide clean power for our voracious electrical appetites, or captured in a sail to propel ourselves gently across the water.

But the thing that strikes me the most is that it's invisible. All that power, for good and bad, and you can't even see it. It would hide completely from our eye were it not for our ability to observe it's impact on the world around it. We can't see it, but we can see what it does.

Emotion, too, is such a powerful force. Words spoken in anger can end relationships and break hearts. At it's worst, it can lead people to take lives and destroy other's worlds. Or, through even the simplest acts of kindness, bring such joy and enrich the lives of those around us. Words spoken in love can save lives. Selfless caring can change the world, for the better.

But emotion, like the wind, is invisible. You can't see love or hate. You can't see sadness or happiness. But you see the effect it has on the world. Like the gentle swaying of the leaves, you can see it in the smile of the one you love. Like the homes torn from their foundations, you can see it in the tear rolling down a child's cheek.

So, when you see footage of tornadoes and hurricanes tearing up homes, remember how anger and hate can do the same. When one of those summer breezes cools you off, remember how love can do the same. And vice versa. Think of those tornadoes when you find yourself angry, and those cool breezes when you feel happy.

Your invisible powers can change the world.

I've been noticing a lot lately that so many people always seem in such a hurry, whether it be in traffic, walking down the street, waiting in line, or whatever else they may be doing. It makes me wonder why they're always in such a hurry to get to what's next, especially at the expense of what's now. Ultimately, we all have the same destination: the grave. It might sound depressing, but it's a cold, hard fact of life. So, really, all they are doing is rushing to their grave.

I'll admit, I used to be one of these people, so I know some of the self-justification for this behavior. Life is short, after all, so who wants to waste it sitting in traffic or walking to your car after work? Thing is, how much time to we really save by rushing as we do? More importantly, how much less do we enjoy that time by miring ourselves in impatience and hurry?

For myself, I stepped back and looked at it last year (even before I started studying Buddhism) and came to my own realization. Using driving and traffic as an example, I used to be one of those people rushing around, weaving through lanes and driving well above the speed limit. I would let myself get impatient and frustrated when slower vehicles were in my way. All just to save time on the drive home. One day, I decided I'd had enough and would just relax that day and take as long as it took. The drive was stress-free and quite relaxing, and ending up only taking an extra five minutes.

So, I weighed the options. I could get home in 20 minutes every day by rushing, and spend the whole trip stressed out. Not to mention the extra 10-15 minutes it would take me to decompress when I got home. Or, I could relax and get home in 25 minutes and have a pleasant trip home, and arrive home already relaxed and need no decompression time. The time I saved was simply not worth it, and I welcomed the reduction in stress from my life.

I have chosen to relax, and take my time. Enjoy the drive home, listen to some music or a podcast, or even just drive in silence and enjoy some time in my thoughts. Enjoy the walk to the car, take in the world around me or just enjoy the walking itself. Practice a little walking meditation even. I'll leave everyone else to their rushing and stress and unhappiness and hope that they can one day find the joy of the now.

(originally written February 4th, 2006)

I've spent a good deal of the day today just sitting and listening to it rain. It's been a constant drone throughout the day, and I find it very relaxing. Soothing, even. Other sounds have come and gone, the heater clicks on and off, the refrigerator purrs in the background for a while, the fans in my computer breathe in and out from time to time, but the gentle din of the rain has remained. But even that too will change soon enough, as it shifts to snow and leaves behind only echoes of the white noise it filled the day with.

This got me thinking a lot about change. How the one thing I, we, any of us, cannot change is change itself. Change is unchanging.

I'm growing to slowly accept that my life is always going to be in a state of flux. It always has, and it always will. Even the things I count on as constants-family, friends, whatever-will all leave my life eventually, just as new things will enter it. Life is a series of paths, intertwining and embracing for a time, then moving on to seduce other paths in other places away from ours. I'm still very far from where I'm ready to embrace said change, but I've taken the step of understanding and am working through acceptance now, so I will arrive there some day.

So I'm going to look forward to the rain shifting to snow. I'll miss the sound of the rain, but there is such beauty in a fresh snowfall that I'll take that into my soul for a time to fill the gap.

(originally written January 29th, 2006)

I see two lights, alone in the darkness. I don't know what they are, how they got there, why they are there. Are they the same? Are they candles? Stars? The headlights of an oncoming car, ready to strike me down? Do they mean to lead me somewhere? Are they a warning to stay away? Perhaps they just are. Serving no real purpose.

I shift in my chair, let the light glow down onto me. Narrow my focus. Now I see what they are. Clarity, of a sort.

I know one of these lights, I've seen it before. This light, I cannot follow. It lights a path I cannot walk.

But, the other? I don't know where this one goes, whether it will take me where I want to go. I've seen so many lights before, but none so bright as this one. But is it any different than the others? Or will it lay my head on that same pillow when the day has ended?

For now, I will not follow. I will sit here and watch it drift off into the darkness, admiring both the shimmer of it's light and the shadows it casts.

I believe I will see this light again. One day.

Then I will follow.

(originally written January 24, 2006) I spent some time looking at the shelves in my apartment last night, observing what a mess they are. There are things on them that just don't belong there. There are other things that (perhaps) belong on there but are on the wrong shelf. Things are scattered about randomly and without order, or when there is order it's done by the simplest and most easily implemented methodology, rather than what is best. They're dusty and in need of cleaning, especially those forgotten shelves in the back, the ones that aren't so easy to reach. They are in desperate need of being stripped down and emptied out, and then thoroughly cleaned and re-organized. Get things in a proper order. Get things on their proper shelves. Get the stuff out of there that doesn't belong. Mercifully, this will be an easy weekend project some time soon. Then I got to meditating on the whole thing, and examining how like those shelves my mind, heart and soul have become. And how, in all my focus on getting my physical form in shape lately, I've lost focus on keeping my (more important) mental form in equal shape. If only it were as easy to clean my mental shelves.

(originally written December 27th, 2005) 

I spent about an hour earlier today staring at, and meditating on, a tree outside my window. I came to the conclusion that I like trees.

When it rains, it drinks the water. When it is sunny it bathes in the warm light. When it is neither it doesn't sit and fret about when it will rain again, or when the sun will return. It sits and waits until they do, nothing more. When the cold winds of winter come along, it does not desperately try to cling to it's falling leaves, instead it lets them go and goes about just being a tree, knowing the leaves will one day return. When the wind blows on it, it doesn't tense up and push back, it lets itself sway in the wind. When birds build their nests or squirrels scamper about it's branches, it does not feel used or try to make them stop and leave, it accepts it's place and it's role and goes on about just being a tree. It accepts it's ever-changing place in the ever-changing world around it, and does so without anxiety, sadness, or resistance.

So, yeah. I like trees.

Why has it become so hard to enjoy any peace and quiet? People seem to feel this need to surround themselves with as much noise as they can at any given moment. Booming car stereos shaking everything around you. Loud motorcycles crackling through the streets. Car engines gunning their way from red light to red light. Yammering loudly on a cell phone. Screaming at each other across the street. Blaring television on all day. Assaulted by sound every waking moment of the day.

Am I the only one left who appreciates the value in silence any more? Sometimes, it would seem so.

There are such amazing sounds to be heard if we'd just shut the heck up for a while. Birds singing. The wind rustling the leaves. Rain pittering and pattering on the roof. The low rumble of distant thunder. Sounds that soothe and relax, rather than unnerve and irritate. Sounds that give us a chance to just think. Giving us the time to stop doing and begin being. What wonderful gifts the quiet can give us.

So, I keep another personal blog elsewhere and I want to keep that seperate from this. But I think I'll crosspost anything I think would be of relevance here to this blog (I'll keep the babbling about iPods and video games on the other blog! *laugh*)

I'll probably go back and re-post some of the older stuff that I really like from time-to-time as well. I'll try to make sure to notate when it's something older from the other blog.

That's all for now. More soon, I hope. *smile*