The Girl in Red

An unfortunate turn of events happened with a source for my book, which has greatly upset me. I sobbed over the issue continuously. Writing a non-fiction is difficult, and painful to deal with when people I thought I could trust or have come to rely upon are so afraid of an idea, exposure, or attention that they ... Very sternly, two of my sources, one being my own sister, denied permission to include the stories about them in the book, neither of which were negative in representing them. If I am to attain approval from every source I use, this book will never be published. Really, though, this is what a publisher and editor is for. I should not concern myself with permissions just yet. I need to just get it done. Still, the source I lost connected me to a greater spiritual community whom I cannot help but feel outcast from now. My search for spiritual belonging stumbles yet again. 
I asked desperately for help, feeling doomed to walk forever the boundary dividing the two sides, incapable of faith enough to distinguish between good and evil, too paranoid to believe. All I can remember of the answer that night was following male friends, including my partner Jim among them, into a swimming pool for some simple fun and games. One of them in the water asks if I would like to try the game now. I am familiar (in the dream only) of a game he and I had made up and meant to test at some point and the opportunity had presented itself. Jim hopped out and kept going with the other two males, laughing and being rowdy like young men ought to. Jim has us, his family to care for and a full-time job, he rarely has such old fashioned fun to match his age. I enjoyed seeing him full of life. When I initially jumped in the water the mechanics of swimming were unusual. I adjusted gradually with slow strokes. The steering was sluggish and delayed like I was controlling my body by remote.

Anyway, best I can understand it was the dream, in spite of the sadness and confusion stirring in my consciousness, showed me simple relief by means of distraction in fun. Quite a surprise to me upon waking. I thought to myself "Really? Your answer is 'me swimming in a pool'?" Obviously I don't get my dreaming yet. I didn't belong with the big names so close to Disclosure. I will not be part of that grand unveiling. Perhaps I do belong perpetually walking the line in-between so I can provide insight either way to either party. I speak for the minority, and the meek, the oppressed, whoever/whatever that side is. My side is upholding values of justice and compassion as an individual law, not associated to any organization or grouping that would identify itself as in anyway separate from others. I am an individual and I am part of the entire whole. I protect my flock, those I have personal relationships with, not virtual. This is why family is so important, or whomever you consider family.

I haven't emphasized enough how disorienting the content of my dreams can be from what I recognize as my deepest realities and understandings.

The depiction of me playing the role of 'the girl in red' in two sequential dreams (in answer simply to the questions "Who am I? What is my purpose?" ruminates in my thoughts. Connotations of the color, how the ones fighting and the male choir singing saw me challenge the intent behind my walk. I was quietly opposing their aggression and possessive actions by slowly taking the stage with a soft song and bowed head that splits a path through the chaos. This does represent me. But why would I be in red (though I was not actually wearing red, it was just described as the title of my role)? Red is my least favorite color, and though I teach music now to private lessons, I still deny that I am a singer. Performing still unnerves me (as it forever will I imagine). That which I least prefer of what I could possibly do will be the best way I can contribute?

My neighbor recently described me as 'tender,' a word I have never considered of myself. And 'tender' was exactly who the person in that role was. This is where I am at my best, yet my least preferred because it is vulnerable and shows physical weakness. It is a place of humility.

I will learn to accept and love this expression of myself. Perhaps it is time I understand though that I am not an angel. I should stop comparing myself to an alien standard.