Subconscious at Work and at Dreaming

I've been working on this sketch all week:

Here's the haiku-like piece that I wrote on the second day of sketching:

Stars in a cold sky
Mend the torn butterfly wings
Underground railroad

At first these 3 lines don't seem to go together at all.  But as I've been thinking about them, I've been sensing connections.

Clearly, my subconscious is working on various connections that I don't readily see as I move from task to task.

This morning, I made this Facebook post:  "I had my first dream that had me worrying about close proximity and COVID-19 transmission. In my dream, we were packed in a Lutheran church for a high festival day. I was admiring the fabrics in everyone's stoles and the banners and light streamed through stunning stained glass. And then I realized we were packed into the pews and had been for hours and no one was wearing a mask. It doesn't take a trained psychologist to analyze the anxiety aspect of the dream--but in a church on a high festival day with beautiful fabrics all around me? Really, dreaming brain, really?"

I've spent the morning thinking about this dream, thinking about the reasons why I'm having a COVID-19 anxiety dream set in a church, especially when my local church will not be gathering in person until after Labor Day, if then.

We know that churches packed with people do pose a unique danger with this virus.  But it seems that maybe this dream is doing more.  Maybe it's a dream of mourning and lament, for all that has been lost.  Or maybe it's a dream about possible futures that seem out of reach right now.

My subconscious is at work--I'm not sure I can handle what it's realizing.

Starry, Starry Signs

Last night, we listened to some Christmas music.  We have dozens of Christmas CDs, but my spouse channeled a radio station through our "smart" TV.  I decided to sketch again.

I've had the words for "Rise Up Shepherd and Follow" in my head for days, so my thoughts returned to that star.  I've been thinking about cosmic signs, the ones that make us drop everything we're doing, and the ones we choose to ignore.  How many signs from God come to us, but we're too distracted looking at something else?

I started with a star in the corner of the page, and then I thought of Van Gogh's "Starry Night."  I drew swirls and added color and eventually this sketch emerged:

I wasn't sure if I could add a haiku to a page with such dense color, so as you can see, I tried two different ways.  I'm still not sure it's legible, so let me write out the 2 versions.

In black at the bottom, I first wrote:

Distant starlight bright.
A weary wold rejoices.
Lead us to our home.


Closer to the center of the page I wrote this variation:

Distant starlight bright.
A weary wold rejoices.
Lead us ever home.

At first I tried writing with white marker, but I wasn't sure that was visible, so I tried adding some black marker to each word.  I like the way it almost blends with the swirls, yet it's clear that something else is going on.

In some ways, it's a sketch that's more suitable for Christmas Eve or Epiphany, but that's where my head was.  The star that's in the upper corner has been surfacing in my sketches in the year since I took the online journaling class at the end of 2018, so I'm not surprised to see it reappear.

It was a peaceful way to end the day.  After I finished the sketch, I tumbled into bed and later dreamed I was walking through a landscape that shifted from autumnal hues to winter evergreens dusted with snow.

Defining Good Work

The election of a church bishop doesn't often produce such mixed emotions in me.  But over the week-end, I found myself following the election proceedings of a synod in the Lutheran church--not my synod, mind you.  But it's not often that I know personally not one but two candidates for bishop.

We all went to the same college.  I was friends with one of them while we were in undergraduate school together.  The other candidate came along later, and I got to know him through the years when we attended the Create in Me retreat together.  He's the one who won.

He already had a fascinating job in the larger Lutheran church as assistant to the bishop and executive for worship.  I spent some time wondering what elements of the new job made him want to change to be bishop for the Southeastern synod.  Both positions have the potential for making lasting change.

And then, part of me wonders why making lasting change is one of the elements that immediately come to my mind when I think about the nature of good work.

My spouse is certain that he is doing good work as a college Philosophy instructor.  He's frustrated by having so little time to make the classes even better, but adjuncts don't often have the luxury of time and all the resources they would have if they were full-time.

I go through my days rarely certain that I'm doing good work.  Actually, that's not true.  There are elements of my job that let me know I'm doing good work.  Yesterday, a student came by, and I was happy to find out that he was doing well in his English class.  A few weeks ago, he had decided that he needed to drop out of school because of a variety of family crises.  I helped him figure out how to stay enrolled in his English class so that he wouldn't have to leave school completely, and he could salvage at least part of the term.  That's good work.

But I am weary of some of the elements of my job that don't seem as essential to me.  We spend a lot of time looking for reasons why students aren't successful--but we've considered just about every possibility, both the obvious ones (they're working two jobs in addition to going to school) to the more obscure.  Do we really need to keep bringing up the possible reasons and considering them?  Do I really need to color code the classes that the dropped out students were taking so that we see if we see a pattern?   For one program, we've analyzed multiple times, and so far, nothing leaps out.

In an ideal world, we'd talk to the students, and they'd be honest about why they're leaving.  I'm fairly certain that we'd still be facing elements we can't change.  That's the frustrating part of my job.

Days like yesterday leave me dreaming of a different kind of job.  I don't want to be bishop of a synod in my church.  I think that might be a bit too similar to my current job:  lots of problems that I acknowledge but lack power to change.

I dream of a job that lets me lead people exploring the intersections where spirituality and creativity come together.  I dream of a job where I create opportunities for people to do that.  I want to explore how God speaks to us through our creative yearnings.  I want to explore how we can do our part in making the kingdom of God manifest through our creative work.  I want a better phrase than "kingdom of God."

Fever Dreams

I am not quite back to normal yet, but I'm feeling a bit better.  It's been a strange few days of feeling off--a headache that doesn't respond to meds, sinus pressure resulting in a face that hurts, and lots of sleeping.

Despite my feeling off, we did get a bit done yesterday, mainly in the form of errands.  We also got our automatic pool vacuum cleaner repaired.  I had planned to do more, of course.  I have always planned to do more.

Today I am in charge at church, and then this afternoon, we have a South Florida family gathering:  my spouse's brother, his wife, and his sister's grown daughter.  In short, once again, I don't have much writing time.

But let me record a dream from my fevered sleep last night:  I was walking around a campus and saying, "I didn't realize we had a Lutheran college down here."  It looked like a more modernized version of my undergraduate Lutheran School, Newberry College in Newberry, South Carolina.  People told me about the exciting programs happening there--and then I realized it was a Missouri Synod school, which means it would be a lot more conservative than my Lutheran ELCA tradition.  I woke up as I was puzzling what to do.  In my dream, I was talking to my Admissions-colleague-in-real-life saying, "It's really not as bad as it might be."

Hmm.  This dream could have so many meanings.  If I think that God speaks to us in dreams, and I do, what is God saying?

But now, I must get ready for church.

Social Media and a Place Apart

I want to record this moment from the Create in Me retreat before we get further away, and it slides from my memory.  The first night, Pastor Mary introduced the planning team.  I was last, the social media coordinator.  I stood up, and a section of the retreat population clapped.  They hadn't clapped for anyone else.

So, in this time of discernment, let me ponder:  I am good at some types of social media, like creating Facebook posts and e-mails that inspire people.  But here, as in many aspects of my life, I believe that if I'm enjoying it and/or it comes naturally/effortlessly to me, it doesn't count somehow.  Or I think that I must be doing it wrong.

I focus on all the social media stuff that I'm not doing for the Create in Me retreat.  I don't have a smart phone, so I can't make Instagram posts.  I know that all the cool kids left Facebook long ago, and I feel somewhat guilty about not being able to follow them to Instagram.

Of course, at the Create in Me retreat, so far we're predominantly an older population.  These are the people who appreciate my weekly Facebook post that reminds us to keep being creative.  For some of our retreat members who aren't on Facebook, I should probably create a paper newsletter that arrives via the U.S. Mail, not worry about Instagram.

These thoughts also lead me to my dream of being an online retreat coordinator, with occasional in-person duties.  As I created the Lenten Journaling group for my church, the members told me how much they enjoyed the prompts that I sent out by way of e-mail.

I think about church camps and how some of my favorites proclaim themselves to be a place apart.  But what about the people who can't get there?

Or maybe we need to think about the places where we now spend so much time, the online sites and online duties.  Maybe we need a place apart there--a place that is both part of our online lives and a way to escape those lives.

Worship Service Transitions

My church seems to be moving away from having 3 services to having just one.  While part of me understands, part of me hates to see our innovative side slip away--because the one service that we're keeping is more traditional.

I've been trying to think about why I hate the idea of the innovation side slipping away.  Part of it, of course, is because that was the service that meant the most to me.  We did a lot with a variety of creative practices, and I was often in charge.

I don't hate not being in charge--but I will miss the creative outlet.

More than that, I miss the way we were able to connect with each other in a way that I'm not sure we can during a traditional service.  I wonder if there's a way to maintain that connection, even if we don't meet every week.

If we had a creative brunch once a month, could that work?  Would it be in addition to the church service or a service on its own?

That's the key question--do we need to offer a less formal option as a worship service?  And what does it mean to worship?  Could we do our own thing and join the traditional worship for communion?  Hmmmmm.

The other part of the question:  how do we connect with each other if we're meeting for a worship service?  There's the possibility of coffee hour after church, but since we're a small church, many of us have tasks after church that keep us from coffee hour:  clean up, money counting, and occasional rehearsals.

I wish I had a tidy solution--that would be a great way to end this blog post.  But so far, I just have possibilities, and I'm not even sure they'd be of interest to anyone but me.  I'll keep thinking on this and reporting back.

Dream Journal as Prayer Book

During my retreat week away, I kept bumping up against the idea of tracking my dreams.  At first I resisted:  "One more thing to add to my morning?  I don't have enough time for the morning activities I treasure, and you want me to add more?"

But as the week went on, and as I came across this suggestion on an almost daily basis, I decided to listen.  What would happen if I kept a dream journal?  Would I discern God speaking to me?  Would I discern the yearnings of a self I've driven underground?

The Create in Me retreat this year had the theme "Dreams and Visions," and the Bible study focused on Jacob.  Our Bible study leader, the Bishop of the ELCA Texas-Louisiana Synod, reminded us that the Bible is full of stories of God speaking to people through dreams, and yet our modern generation has rejected the idea that God might speak to us through dreams.

He talked about his own experiences keeping a dream journal and how powerful the experience was.  I got tangled up in logistics:  should I write by hand?*  Over a meal, I asked the bishop how he would do it.  He said that he had written by hand, but now he would use the computer. Then he laughed ruefully and said, “Actually I’d probably use my phone.”

And then he said the nugget that got me thinking:  he said that he'd do the dream journal first thing in the morning, as part of his prayer time.

I'm not sure I'm using the approach he would use.  I'm still using Phyllis Tickle's version of the liturgy of the hours, The Divine Hours.  And then I write down my dreams.

Is God speaking to me?  Well, it's been less than 2 weeks, so I don't know.  I tend to discount some dreams, like the one I had last night, where I walked into the kitchen, and I said, “I thought we washed these dishes.” The dirty dishes in my dream were exactly the ones we washed just before bed in real life.

I tend to see that kind of dream as my brain being too tired to come up with anything better than imitating "real life."  But what might God be trying to tell me?  Something about repetition?  Something about thinking I have a situation cleaned up, but I don't?

And in terms of using my dream journal as part of my prayer life--what should I do now?  Pray for discernment, yes.  And perhaps to use my dreams as prompts for what God wants me to focus upon and then to talk about when I pray.

Will there be more?  Stay tuned!

*I've decided to write out my dreams on the computer.