An American Southwest Medicine Woman once said, “First, let’s interpret your morning. Tell me how it was getting here, and I will tell you about yourself.” Uh-oh.
I woke up at 5am with a rogue wisdom tooth trying to push its way out of my upper right gum. It was swollen and painful as little chunks of cementum, enamel, dentin (or whatever teeth are made from) emerged amidst blood and an odd tasting liquid. Of course I was spitting up and feeling ookey.
When I flipped the switch to the coffee maker, the grounds backed up and overflowed, creating quite the mess on the kitchen counter.
Then at Market, the first person to bless our booth was a woman with a large, noticeable scab right below her left nostril. She was momentarily infatuated with our line of jewelry and requested to look through every single piece, including our secret stash. Her enthusiasm wilted mine as she proceeded to pick at her scab then touch everything in the booth.
She collected a pile of jewelry she was interested in purchasing and my repulsion to her was slightly offset by the hope of a sizable sale. But then she switched from picking her scab to picking apart the jewelry. Nothing suited her after all. “Do you have the silver one in gold? I’d prefer the blue in red, this is too big, that one’s too small,” etc. and on it went.
After spreading her germy, crusty bits she lamented that she just couldn’t find anything and that maybe she’d “be back.”
Okay, Ms. Medicine woman, I told you about my morning, so bring on the woo-woo.
Now I get to quote her… “There’s little difference between the sleeping and the waking dreams of everyday life, with all their mystery and drama. To begin crafting your vision, you must become aware of your waking dreams and their symbolism. Symbols are everywhere and everything that you experience mirrors a part of you – so when you can perceive reality in this way, you understand how you’re already dreaming your world.”
Please bear with me. The next part may be a skosh confusing as we look at the symbols and interpret the “waking dreams” of my morning. Then, if we figure it out, hopefully all will make sense. I’m too embarrassed to mention that I failed to look before sitting down to tinkle and didn’t notice that the toilet seat was up…so I think I’ll leave that part out and concentrate on these five.
1. Wisdom. 2. Teeth. 3. Breaking through. 4. Coffee grounds overflowing. 5. A scab below the nose.
According to the experts, wisdom is the ability to recognize truth coupled with good judgment. Teeth in general represent decisions. Trouble with wisdom teeth specifically, indicates not giving oneself enough mental space to create a firm foundation.
Ha, speaking of foundations, coffee grounds overflowing could represent grounding and being a little backed up, not allowing the energy to flow out. In other words, an imbalance. A scab is a healing wound. The nose of all things (and oh boy, have there been several references to noses lately!) represents self-recognition.
I’ve told you about my morning, we’ve interpreted the symbols, now what does this reveal about me?
Wisdom is emerging, accompanied by some pain. I have a decision to make, yet I am keeping myself too busy and not allowing enough quiet time to go inward and create a firm foundation to support it. I tend to hold onto things past their expiration dates, perhaps a little fearful of letting things go lest there be no more. Scarcity thinking. This creates a back up in my system, both in terms of prunes on the shopping list and energetic clogs.
A wound regarding self-recognition is healing.
And now I must digress for a moment and summon once again the topic of the dude at the Japanese tea ceremony who plucked a strawberry from his nose. I wrote about it because it was so weird and curiously provoking.
When I was a youngster, I was in love with strawberries. I’d save my coins until I had enough to buy some delectable scarlet berries of my own. J'adore manger des fraises, but I was too afraid to ever eat them, because if I ate them, there wouldn’t be any left. So the strawberries would sit in their little green basket on the shelf in the refrigerator until they were covered in moldy fur, bruised and squishy, and had to be thrown out. Need I say more?
Strawberries have always reminded me of how I hold on to things but don’t allow myself the experience of enjoying them. It’s a sad trait, a waste really.
Now that I understand that the nose represents self-recognition, having someone pull a strawberry out of one like a rabbit from a hat suddenly makes sense. First of all, it captured my attention and I’ve been ruminating.
Secondly, putting the waking dreams together, as I watched the guy pull a strawberry from his nose, I witnessed an old habit of hoarding being birthed through the nostril canal of self-recognition. Is this woo-woo enough for you? Are you following me so far? Okay, I’m laughing even if you aren’t.
Here’s what I’ve come up with so far: Wisdom breaking through, making a decision, a need for quiet mediation, letting things go with faith there will always be more, and a healing wound. Really, all that from a sketchy morning?
Taking the time to examine the symbols in my environment created a release. When Groom showed up at the Market, I decided to walk around and see the new vendors who finally had an opportunity to sell at Market since most of the regulars were at the Oregon Country Fair.
I made it but a few steps from my booth when a man came straight up to me and began talking as though we had been in the middle of a conversation. His eye contact was direct and intense, his style of speech so deliberate, that I had to tell him I was a vendor down the row in case he thought he was spilling his guts to somebody else.
He told me he knew perfectly well who I was and proceeded to tell me his “story.” As he spun his tale, I was in awe and had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Why? Because he was using my words to describe his situation. I must have been having a sort of out-of-body experience because I was me watching him act just like me. I peered into the looking glass.
His stuff was my stuff. His mystery and drama had been mine earlier in the day. It was the very thing I had let go in the wisdom teeth, coffee ground, scabby nose scenario. Was I being punked?
Out of the hundreds of people at Market, how did this guy zero in on me and mirror back what I had been just a few hours earlier? What I told him in response shocked him. I described his pain and all that went with it and how he was dreaming his world. He was stunned, how did I know?
I revealed that I had let all of that go by mid-morning and had stepped into a new place. He told me he wanted to talk to me because I looked so peaceful. He could not believe I had been living in anger as recently as a week ago.
As we stood there reflecting each other, he showed me why I had been so angry. I had always thought my anger was rooted in the details, family mierde and whatsuch, but turns out, not exactly the case.
He was attributing his feelings of frustration and imbalance to somebody else’s behavior. In that instant, I saw how I felt like a victim of everybody else’s whims and moods, trying hard to please, appease or assuage so that I could be okay. But since that never worked, I was angry.
The essence of my struggle appeared. I had sought myself “out there.” If only they would do such and such, then I could feel alright. If only they would smile at me, like me, validate me, approve of me…” Oh good Lord, how sickening. Here’s a fitting quote by Thaddeus Golas, “Egotism is proving you are worthwhile after you have sunk into hating yourself.” Damn and ouch!
No wonder I was angry so often. At the first signs of anybody else’s bad mood or disapproval, I dissolved into anger, wondering what I did to cause it and trying in vain to uncause it.
Self-recognition. Not ego, not out there, but in here. I’ve heard that the “Kingdom of God is within,” and all the other sayings relating to going within, but I never really understood it. Mentally, I got the concept, but like the strawberries, I never experienced it. My Self may be a little enshrined in fuzzy mold, be squishy in parts and bruised, but I’m not going to throw It out.
The wound is healing.
