tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67031332135306358532023-11-16T03:14:29.214-08:00MoonflowersBy day I dream of the earth renewing itself--lush grasses holding drifts of lawn flowers for bees. Then native wildflowers of every shape and size accommodate our native pollinators and nesting places, where undisturbed, the bees can reproduce.
At day's end, I welcome nights of dreaming. Everybody dreams. With this ability, it is wise to pay attention and not waste the work accomplished in sleep. Free from bias we learn about what our dreams are trying to tell us.
Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-30436121382389976172016-04-14T15:57:00.000-07:002017-08-06T16:22:33.403-07:00BEES IN URBAN SETTINGS<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl26e7bRXb9HxiZa6W8E-aCDsy2va73obL1DZNjH69OXab355f-Ql1zPat1W-avY2ZdpxPSAVGx0YoJXEOKKLM0IKFl622xxxAEtoSG2DMnW5ilYCIuSrSlOEW69lIDUThVV7NJMF7Fcw/s1600/IMG_6063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl26e7bRXb9HxiZa6W8E-aCDsy2va73obL1DZNjH69OXab355f-Ql1zPat1W-avY2ZdpxPSAVGx0YoJXEOKKLM0IKFl622xxxAEtoSG2DMnW5ilYCIuSrSlOEW69lIDUThVV7NJMF7Fcw/s400/IMG_6063.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
After reading a Gordon Frankie (University of California, Berkeley) article on bees in urban settings, I drove down to one of our city's industrial areas. Once a booming manufacturing area, it has gone through some rough times, and now there are many abandoned shops and plenty of empty parking lots and alley-ways.<br />
<br />
The above photo shows part of a crumbling, abandoned building, yet wherever a seed found its way into a crack in the pavement, it began to grow some hardy wild plant--many with flowers and seeds. There are even trees and shrubs--all planted by Mother Nature. Bees and other insects buzzed around in the hot sun. Every city has places like this, and with a plan in place could become a habitat for pollinators. Cities with their miles of concrete and sun reflecting off buildings are warmer than open areas and could extend the growing season to accommodate our native bees. Vacant land could become useful again as bee-loving gardens spread, adding beauty to the purpose of pollination.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIf0ibJ6p2hPdc7PTADyHQoLV2uKBoDT3iyammFwbCyLUNSe61p5-whHXTk8Dcn_Zzhoaef0qOuFkvU6icyVqKtTc8ZGm0f8q4FKOcIAORR6Toh5-fL1h8QsCl4Q_0Vp6Q6fEDMagMQg/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioIf0ibJ6p2hPdc7PTADyHQoLV2uKBoDT3iyammFwbCyLUNSe61p5-whHXTk8Dcn_Zzhoaef0qOuFkvU6icyVqKtTc8ZGm0f8q4FKOcIAORR6Toh5-fL1h8QsCl4Q_0Vp6Q6fEDMagMQg/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" /></a></div>
Some of these abandoned areas are large and could create oases of lush growth that would nurture, not only native bees, but many varieties of birds and butterflies. Native wildflowers, once established, do not need regular watering. They do best without fertilizer.<br />
<br />
Seed packets, many labeled specifically for your area, are readily available in mixes that sometimes include annuals to beef up the mix until perennials begin to bloom<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-70816937904407580442016-04-06T09:36:00.000-07:002016-04-06T14:53:34.797-07:00WALLY WAITS FOR SPRINGTIME<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhREeeEZMCUWIu6v4-4K0cPg7HKTrI3XsE9MqZlYaKa6kkYzoCL12e08HAWeSxy0QpL_aUAh-mX-R40DPUFynLttPhkxD3kz2Us2NbD3M14HwSGcSsb_pKieth8XSrnnI8fvP6wGTB9mO4/s1600/IMG_5270.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhREeeEZMCUWIu6v4-4K0cPg7HKTrI3XsE9MqZlYaKa6kkYzoCL12e08HAWeSxy0QpL_aUAh-mX-R40DPUFynLttPhkxD3kz2Us2NbD3M14HwSGcSsb_pKieth8XSrnnI8fvP6wGTB9mO4/s400/IMG_5270.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
For years, Wally has been guarding the garden--specifically the rock wall. Wally wears his fur in a decorative braid and notice Wally's tie. Dotted with tiny blue polka dots, the tie is just one of many. He is a fashionable fellow. His goal is to keep out munchers while harmonizing with the colors in the springtime garden. He selected blue dots to bring out flowering brunnera's colors, but not to compete with the tiny, intensely blue flowers suffused with <span style="background-color: white;">raspberry pink.</span><br />
<br />
Soon after Wally took up his post at the wall, a strong wind brought plummeting temperatures, then rain and snow. It brought all flowering to a standstill. Look at the ground surrounding Wally--mostly barren. When snow finally quit, we had a total of six inches on the ground, but Wally didn't complain even when he got pelted--his tie askew from the strong wind. He is the most dependable of all my garden guards and takes his job seriously. When mischievous chipmunks knock him over, I go out to lend a hand in getting him upright again. And unlike other rabbits, he never nibbles the plants.<br />
<br />
Soon, I know, the sun will come out to warm little Wally, but until then, I'll tend to his needs and check the shops for appropriate neckwear, as Wally doesn't drive.<br />
<br />
<br />Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-76668425784257475042016-03-26T19:44:00.000-07:002017-08-06T16:23:51.144-07:00FRIENDLY LITTLE HOUSE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3V4OXHLs-d8Rf5vaWUiI16zNflMI4DCYpqYrs3E8anr2NDH3U1U2WTnPUHlPK4-OELRBdJBQLglw4Iq_lAaFEBq-Rf1S99PyTdB21pLjYnuDlwI32XhC7hs2PesUr_poynUx0uEpD59Y/s1600/IMG_6073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3V4OXHLs-d8Rf5vaWUiI16zNflMI4DCYpqYrs3E8anr2NDH3U1U2WTnPUHlPK4-OELRBdJBQLglw4Iq_lAaFEBq-Rf1S99PyTdB21pLjYnuDlwI32XhC7hs2PesUr_poynUx0uEpD59Y/s400/IMG_6073.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The "Friendly Little House" is decorative, not utilitarian. The stump is utilitarian! The decorative element camouflages a grid-pattern of drilled holes that provides a place for solitary bees to lay their eggs. Six inches deep, the holes provide a perfect, protected place. Because the holes blend in with the bark, they are difficult to see in this photo. They are located just below the watering can in front of the little, winding fence. This is the stump of a pine tree that was cut down last year. The little house came about from my habit of looking for attractive additions to the landscape that will also serve the purpose of providing a haven for critters.<br />
<br />
The house is a standard birdhouse without openings, as I thought bees might not like the risk of being eaten by birds. It is made of sturdy, solid maple. The roof is sided with the rough bark that was chiseled away from the stump. Mosses (green, brown and orange) tucked in among the slabs of bark, came from a variety of places in a yard that is quickly becoming too shady. The little attached shed, originally a waxy carton that held coffee cream, was covered with individual scales removed from a giant pine cone and roofed with the same rough bark as the house.<br />
<br />
Get the kids--with their wonderful imaginations--to help devise garden plans. Everyone will get satisfaction from giving nature a boost and providing a pleasing garden feature.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-12359796077689935122016-03-20T05:38:00.002-07:002017-08-06T16:24:08.194-07:00A HOUSE FOR MASON BEES<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitX7TtS2sTJFYGhn4acOA4Hr4biZ1qus2xNbxVyWrG-xFxTddb47H3xBLaOnNJMXAdVf5vA9WihO1HNG-9f8WDEwzicrXcW4JQP87KxamLas0GTuwZsqfhj-hbxw2TTcIxkq3-AthHza0/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitX7TtS2sTJFYGhn4acOA4Hr4biZ1qus2xNbxVyWrG-xFxTddb47H3xBLaOnNJMXAdVf5vA9WihO1HNG-9f8WDEwzicrXcW4JQP87KxamLas0GTuwZsqfhj-hbxw2TTcIxkq3-AthHza0/s320/Unknown.jpeg" width="302" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is a good time to plan for emerging mason bees. When temperatures reach the mid-50's (fahrenheit) for about four to five consecutive days, it's a good idea to have a place ready for them to create a nesting spot. This temperature range will coincide with the blossoming of orchard trees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As bees emerge, they immediately begin foraging and depositing eggs. The pictured teardrop-shaped mason bee house is a good start when providing habitats. These houses are usually equipped with a hook for hanging, but in my experience bees prefer their houses to be stationary--no dangling. So be sure to secure them if you choose this type nesting site. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The gentle mason bee is smaller than the honeybee, but works alongside them compatibly. And, with only six in an area, they could successfully pollinate one whole fruit tree. Native to North America, these gentle bees pollinate almonds, melons, and blueberries.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Upon emerging, their lifespan is approximately four weeks, but males begin dying off a few days after pollination.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The nesting tubes in a mason bee dwelling need to be 6 inches long to protect the eggs from long beaks like those found on woodpeckers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
For more information and pictures on how you can help our native bees, visit:<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-53632780947352445382015-04-20T15:41:00.000-07:002017-08-06T16:24:24.750-07:00PROPELLING FORWARD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjJ5Uk-DL2IyoqNbZ5kO6jJ5bykeUd_nslmJ-e-9VgKg17OcB32QNBV_kgxGPGVy1MKD-hB6uoaIZ-NGGgnZFKe_MMteSGfo2_j5cwzUnQ0b_78Gg50-gHWo33dRiXACOSV_9URjI5Tg/s1600/kletr-dramatic-scene-on-the-sky-vintage-fighter-plane-inbound-from-sun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjJ5Uk-DL2IyoqNbZ5kO6jJ5bykeUd_nslmJ-e-9VgKg17OcB32QNBV_kgxGPGVy1MKD-hB6uoaIZ-NGGgnZFKe_MMteSGfo2_j5cwzUnQ0b_78Gg50-gHWo33dRiXACOSV_9URjI5Tg/s1600/kletr-dramatic-scene-on-the-sky-vintage-fighter-plane-inbound-from-sun.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I'd been working outside in the cold since early morning and had come into the house for a warm lunch. After lunch, still feeling the chill, I covered up with "the cloud" (a small comforter). Warming up, I felt drowsy and took a little snooze on the couch. Lasting 45 minutes, I felt like a million bucks on waking, and the bonus was an illuminating dream:<br />
<br />
<i>Looking out the back kitchen window I see two propellers, no airplanes attached, just propellers. Shiny and bright, they are hovering for a few minutes--as if to get my attention. Now, with my attention on them, they effortlessly push on going from back to front. They move quickly and silently. As the last propeller makes it over the roof, I shout out to the kids, "Go to the front, they're going over right now." The kids dash for the front.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I asked myself these questions: What are propellers? What is the significance of their flying over my house? What does their power represent? Why are there two? Where are they going? Why are the kids (all adults now) in the scene?<br />
<br />
My thoughts over this dream centered on two challenges I faced at the time. One was my work life and the other was figuring out how to help a family member. It was a daily struggle to come up with something and I was at a loss. First the dream forced me to pay attention. Then, hovering over my house, it reminded me of transcendence over the two things challenging me, and the power to move forward. When I told the kids to "go to the front," I wanted them to see the power to move forward, also.<br />
<br />
I had such good feelings when I woke up because I felt strongly that this was a sign that a resolution was on the way to rise above these two pressing issues. I can tell you that I was very grateful, when months later, the matters were resolved.<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Dramatic Scene on Sky, Kletr, Allposters</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />
<i><br /></i></span>
<i><br /></i>Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-31374896414739100612014-11-08T16:46:00.001-08:002017-08-06T16:24:41.658-07:00HELP!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqO8UG_lFJrkbCk_Rd_TtJgRwkBrUdVBSzUJPcqDpPxUMEKUloel2NOh49fykJ2WMslH2wIXF6EQV_8zzovi7s6c0Cvspx5YQdvl7YbVx-CjdSnpZbhUUiMj2U-b9kPimmCfieXZOIpHU/s1600/walter-sanders-elevator-in-a-madison-avenue-high-rise-office-building.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqO8UG_lFJrkbCk_Rd_TtJgRwkBrUdVBSzUJPcqDpPxUMEKUloel2NOh49fykJ2WMslH2wIXF6EQV_8zzovi7s6c0Cvspx5YQdvl7YbVx-CjdSnpZbhUUiMj2U-b9kPimmCfieXZOIpHU/s1600/walter-sanders-elevator-in-a-madison-avenue-high-rise-office-building.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
This dream story starts with a reminder:<br />
Don't take dreams literally--look for the metaphor.<br />
<br />
While we often have dreams reflecting some current, specific problem or challenge, sometimes a dream will communicate a more general message. I believe the following dream was just such a message.<br />
<br />
To give you a little background: In most matters I like to handle everything myself. It is not easy for me to ask for help, preferring not to bother others over my responsibilities. And that is a good thing. However, there are times when it is all right to ask for help--even necessary that you ask for help. Here is how my dream reminded me:<br />
<br />
<i>I am in a hallway where a big, fat man is talking to me. Then suddenly he pushes me into a room and begins attacking me. His arms are white and flabby. I am not afraid of him. Then a knife appears in my hand and I tell him just how I will stab him if he doesn't stop attacking me. He wrestles me into a lobby area where there is a bank of elevators. One of the doors opens and a couple of people get out. I call to them for help. As soon as I do that, he loses power over me.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The threatening man represents a lot of problems/challenges (note his girth). His arms are white and flabby (not so threatening), so I am not afraid of him and even boldly retaliate. However, because of his size, he overpowers me and wrestles me into the lobby.<br />
<br />
Message: You have more power when you ask for help.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Picture by Walter Sanders</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"> Elevator in a High-Rise Office Building.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"> Allposters</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-82376985088982888242014-09-22T14:29:00.000-07:002017-08-06T16:25:11.691-07:00TOMORROW, JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipR8Oxj-dEVHLppxEmxAHDZqjyAAFdlOqIyC2XKB5O1TjW1nGowgCNzpxAWwdBfzRfLefBGRMaV3dPNXaNbPG04lQsHn_TVl_Cw39FIiToJB2KVvM4xUYo6GEJZpDg3oMttXnDpNRKr4g/s1600/kevin-cruff-birds-and-trees-discovery-park.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipR8Oxj-dEVHLppxEmxAHDZqjyAAFdlOqIyC2XKB5O1TjW1nGowgCNzpxAWwdBfzRfLefBGRMaV3dPNXaNbPG04lQsHn_TVl_Cw39FIiToJB2KVvM4xUYo6GEJZpDg3oMttXnDpNRKr4g/s1600/kevin-cruff-birds-and-trees-discovery-park.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
There was a long period of time during which my family experienced such upheaval, that we were at a loss for how to handle it. So out of our experience, we struggled day-by-day to understand it all, and to cope with the ongoing fallout. Walking around as if wounded, we immediately assisted the "victims." To compound the matter, we also understood the plight of the "perpetrators," and wished them no harm.<br />
<br />
Pulling me down, I fervently prayed for some resolution to the problems, but none came. Then one night I dreamed . . .<br />
<br />
<i>I am sitting on the north side (where I sleep) of the house watching up in the air where a large number of grosbeaks eat doughnuts. A person stands beside me, and though not specified, I know it is a family member. Now a blue jay or two join the grosbeaks, and I say, "Where are they all going?" Up near the gutters they flutter all around, holding up enormous amounts of doughnuts. As I continue to watch, more blue jays come--more than I ever expected. The addition of so many blue jays only adds to the pleasure of seeing the grosbeaks. They're all so beautiful.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
A song had started while still dreaming, and as I got awake, playing in my head was the voice of Vera Lynn singing, "The White Cliffs of Dover." Growing up in the 40's, this hopeful song, with Vera Lynn's strong and vibrant voice, reminded us that one day the war would be over and "There'll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, just you wait and see."<br />
<br />
On waking, there were tears on my face and I continued crying for a time. The tears were purely those of "thanks." From the dream, I knew there was hope for the future and it helped me carry on.<br />
<br />
You'd wonder how such a seemingly funny dream could cause such emotion. It was the song that pointed to its deeper meaning, but so were the messengers. That the first messenger was a rose-breasted grosbeak, reminded me of my grandmother, Rose, blessed with a prominent nose, and who I've felt looks out for me. The addition of blue jays (my favorite sturdy bird), brought the beauty and message by song. Their being up by the gutter, was a clue of the low place where I was then. Doughnuts represented to me a treat, sweetness, but something of the sturdy variety--not fancy. And though they were right above us, the birds were still holding up enormous amounts of doughnuts.<br />
<br />
I hoped that they might dispense a little soon.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Allposters: Birds and Trees, Discovery Park</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"> Kevin Cruff</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 25px;">Written in 1941 by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Kent" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Walter Kent">Walter Kent</a> with words by Nat Burton, the song was also among the most popular <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_World_War" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Second World War">Second World War</a> tunes. </span></span>Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-47011453025708164472014-09-08T07:23:00.002-07:002014-09-08T07:23:42.618-07:00THE RABBIT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ-xKoEtsfw9Kkz8-Ytzaj9lo8Ug7KTDKzIg5wGF70XpvQjVCJGiZhL4LHNoylDikhcy4BkjrTFnu0tTWfueTB0getpsWoWp8y3GQzyGYX8msKiZ34ivDKk_NwaEMrxsO5pcgE_fKHIno/s1600/albrecht-duerer-hare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ-xKoEtsfw9Kkz8-Ytzaj9lo8Ug7KTDKzIg5wGF70XpvQjVCJGiZhL4LHNoylDikhcy4BkjrTFnu0tTWfueTB0getpsWoWp8y3GQzyGYX8msKiZ34ivDKk_NwaEMrxsO5pcgE_fKHIno/s1600/albrecht-duerer-hare.jpg" height="292" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Each time I made overtures toward becoming self-employed, something came along to throw a monkey wrench into the works. On reflection, I knew that a lack of confidence in my abilities was driving my failures. I already demonstrated that I could work for somebody else, so I had that success and security. What I didn't know was if I could survive depending on my self-employment skills. I've always thought of others as possessing bona fide talent, while I felt more like a pretender!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
See how the ambivalence of my predicament showed up one night:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>I am at home. Julie, a principal in the company where I work, brings over a rabbit. It is very nice and tame. The fur is soft, dark brown. As I bend over to look at it, I notice it has no food or water. And I think, how like her not to give the rabbit food or water. So I go to get some. While doing this, I let the rabbit out of its crate. The crate is too small anyway. I say, "Don't we have something larger to keep the rabbit in?"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>The rabbit is so happy that it goes racing around the house--but only briefly. Then it jumps back into the small crate.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here is what the dream showed me:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Julie represented my work environment. In describing the rabbit: nice, tame, dark brown hair, I couldn't help but think how much I identified with it. That surely fit my description. Then, Julie's not providing food or water reminded me that the rabbit (me) wasn't getting what it needed. And last, when having an opportunity at freedom, did it want to stay free? Of course not, the timid creature jumped right back into the little box!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This dream helped me see the problem of my ambivalence as I wrestled over making a job change. The problem, identified, helped me. Future dreams pointed the way to progress.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Allposters - The Rabbit, Albrecht Durer</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-819407056976955332014-08-22T14:42:00.000-07:002014-08-22T14:42:18.580-07:00TO BE OF USE by Marge PiercyInstead of the usual dream story, I'd like to share my favorite poem by Marge Piercy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iwA9EI0Jzneg5Jd2fAirffrpNpFi8GyVzQWfp-0RChQJts2yd42UPB_EIR9CKX0fnOnh_z6q_-J5hIwYviAuWAFBlMR91SntbbV4lCz7UvPOb6hKEvNyQnhLRwf2pGEVDzHq0c_BZTg/s1600/wfth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iwA9EI0Jzneg5Jd2fAirffrpNpFi8GyVzQWfp-0RChQJts2yd42UPB_EIR9CKX0fnOnh_z6q_-J5hIwYviAuWAFBlMR91SntbbV4lCz7UvPOb6hKEvNyQnhLRwf2pGEVDzHq0c_BZTg/s1600/wfth.jpg" height="166" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>TO BE OF USE</u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><br /></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The people I love the best</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
jump into work head first</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
without dallying in the shallows</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
They seem to become natives of that element,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the black sleek heads of seals</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
bouncing like half-submerged balls.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
who do what has to be done, again and again.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I want to be with people who submerge </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and work in a row and pass the bags along,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
who are not parlor generals and field deserters</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but move in a common rhythm</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The work of the world is common as mud.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But the thing worth doing well done</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Hopi vases that held corn are put in museums</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
but you know they were made to be used.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The pitcher cries for water to carry</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and a person for work that is real.</div>
Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-48035207856545901812014-08-20T09:12:00.001-07:002014-08-20T09:12:59.381-07:00CROSSING THE BRIDGE <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKf5MlltaxkfePdh0OmdfepO2i_vWDWMiCJyc0xlxH7xoNyL4UY2G5i-gJl6hOQSssJFNZCa72u4-WAT4qhyphenhyphenabXLN5FETqIkGuIMUljK5ORPbH0c2RsITllJ10wz3K0m7Q5FFXD0YtKYM/s1600/1960s-2-women-sit-under-beauty-salon-hair-dryers-clear-helmets-hoods-curlers-talking-gossip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKf5MlltaxkfePdh0OmdfepO2i_vWDWMiCJyc0xlxH7xoNyL4UY2G5i-gJl6hOQSssJFNZCa72u4-WAT4qhyphenhyphenabXLN5FETqIkGuIMUljK5ORPbH0c2RsITllJ10wz3K0m7Q5FFXD0YtKYM/s1600/1960s-2-women-sit-under-beauty-salon-hair-dryers-clear-helmets-hoods-curlers-talking-gossip.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
As with many other musings, adjusting to my older self stayed with me, regularly playing out in my dreams--in volumes.<br />
<br />
This was the big adjustment: at 52, I decided to stop coloring my hair. After months of vacillating, I finally did it. Then, nearly every day forward, I'd change my mind and want to color it again. Even my 80-year-old father looked at me as if I'd lost my senses, chiding me for choosing to look old. (This is the same guy who, instead of showing his Medicare card to get a senior discount at an area golf course, elected to keep his age a secret and pay full-price.) And though insecure with my choice, contrariness won out and gray I stayed.<br />
<br />
My father wasn't the only critic. Some, after surveying the top of my head, just didn't say anything. Others were not so circumspect and gave their opinions freely. During the transition from dark to gray, a non-descript color emerged, prompting a co-worker to exclaim, "Of all the colors to choose from, why pick ugly?" Because I was so unsure myself, my antennae continuously scanned, picking up all hair-related references. When in my "just color it" phase, I'd try to justify it to myself by pointing out that my hair, with its absence of pigment and texture, was now like cotton candy.<br />
<br />
As I mourned my younger self, I cranked out copious dreams, like this one:<br />
<br />
<i>I am riding in a car with the actor, Paul Newman. We are approaching a bridge. As we drive, I look over at the handsome Newman and think, Oh, I look so old. Then as we get closer, the actress (they were called actresses then), Natalie Wood appears on the pedestrian walkway. My, she looks so lovely. Slim and curvaceous in a light-colored sheath dress, she waves to me. I say, "Oh, I think I'll color my hair," as if that will make me young again.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Well, there I was approaching the bridge taking me from younger to older. Riding along with two former paradigms of our youth-centered culture, I felt anxious after having chosen not to fight the inevitable. And, more importantly, I was adjusting to a new, older self. This accommodation would continue to play out in future dreams as I became more familiar with the changes of being older.Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-20890688644096520922014-07-28T12:38:00.000-07:002014-07-28T12:53:48.881-07:00DREAMING YOUR LIFE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha50S_5RNTIP7Kw6zLfG5t1La51UDmMI3gOQipCCRAQ_1RgVD5h1KNxWJcnRNalG5wKz-hYXM4Yloo8wvqJzo9-yFGDQh_pcI472f-r0dibyX4zH2_B4525tiWBa-nteyQqhNcCWSpQuo/s1600/frameimage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha50S_5RNTIP7Kw6zLfG5t1La51UDmMI3gOQipCCRAQ_1RgVD5h1KNxWJcnRNalG5wKz-hYXM4Yloo8wvqJzo9-yFGDQh_pcI472f-r0dibyX4zH2_B4525tiWBa-nteyQqhNcCWSpQuo/s1600/frameimage.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
Everybody dreams, but how do you figure out what they're about? And not everyone has a dream therapist--including me. I'm just an average person who dreams. Simple curiosity compelled me to put some thought into dreams to try and figure out the meaning. I just knew dreams had a purpose. With one-third of our lives spent in sleep, just think of all the dream time that encompasses. These nightly displays have to have a purpose. But what is that purpose? Exploring, I started with books that featured universal themes and symbols. These books, while interesting, did little to satisfy my curiosity or to convince me that themes were the same for all of us. What about cultural differences? I knew there had to be more to explore.<br />
<br />
In <i>Breakthrough Dreaming</i>, Gayle Delaney explained that dreams, speaking in metaphor, reveal their messages. And rather than rushing to a dictionary of generic symbols, we must capture the essence of what dreams are communicating to <i>us</i>. Now this made made more sense--exploring dreams from our own frame-of-reference.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, on waking, did you ever have a gut feeling about the meaning of your dream? I did, too, so I continued to explore. Then, operating solely from my own frame-of-reference, I started logging dreams, spending lots of time reading and rereading them until some recognition stood out. Sometimes there was recognition. Sometimes there wasn't. Then patterns developed, matching what was going on in my waking life. This helped me recognize what was challenging me and what I needed to understand so I could accommodate these challenges. Sometimes solutions presented themselves, all in metaphorical code language. With each new insight, my interest gained in intensity and dreams began to evolve. When logging a new series of dreams, I noted they all seemed connected somehow. Nearly one year later, one of the series turned out to be pre-cognitive dreams of prophesy.<br />
<br />
Rather than dealing with world events, my dreams dealt with life, death, work, and healing--all personal. If I, an average dreamer, could enhance my experience by paying attention, couldn't most dreamers tap in to the positive purpose of dreams? But how?<br />
<br />
I started by reading Gayle Delaney's books. Then I discovered DreamSchool.org, a global entity devoted to the study of dreams, whether you are serious or just curious.<br />
<br />
If you're just beginning to be curious about your own dreams, my books engage the reader through candid anecdotal stories, showing by example how one average dreamer's life became enriched by paying attention to dreams. The books detail insights and healing (both emotional and physical) I received from dreams. Whether you're just curious or are serious about tapping in to this powerful nighttime helper, your life will become enhanced by exploring the gift we all have, yet often ignore.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">TheMoonflowerVine.com</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Allposters: Woman Sleeping Below Large Window - Art Print</span>Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-3065277709749544422014-07-13T14:36:00.001-07:002017-08-06T16:26:39.306-07:00FINDING MARLON BRANDO IN MY BED<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
Have dreams--the good ones--set you off on the right path in the morning? Me, too. And this is just one of the dreams that helped in not giving up on my storytelling dream project. Even during those periods when I worked diligently on my stories, every now and then I needed a boost. I needed a dream that offered encouragement to keep going. This is a dream that really inspired me:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV71vYs1EqQ8fnXzEyHZ9RLoYmbkFGdBP0XY7lvywDPqxHSvUeXWcr9ATsae4pU5q1nUPwAHfgxUrVzHs2TRG_ioM_Yb-VglbaCtgxMBVbcXuuyhvq9IekdRatisDoMlZMF1dCaM45320/s1600/marlon-brando.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV71vYs1EqQ8fnXzEyHZ9RLoYmbkFGdBP0XY7lvywDPqxHSvUeXWcr9ATsae4pU5q1nUPwAHfgxUrVzHs2TRG_ioM_Yb-VglbaCtgxMBVbcXuuyhvq9IekdRatisDoMlZMF1dCaM45320/s1600/marlon-brando.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i>I am working at a new place and am somewhat confounded about the nature of my work. The job is to write little snippets of information on pieces of paper. Then, I'm supposed to put these pieces of information in a designated place, so that people can come by and read them.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i>Marlon Brando is here. We both work at the same job. Going about doing my job, I seek to get some attention from him, so I wonder, harkening back to feminine wiles, does he notice my legs? The short skirt and high heels I wear show off my legs. And, surprisingly, I look thin, shapely, and my hair looks nice, and it isn't gray! But, alas, Marlon keeps his nose to the grindstone, though I know he's favorably aware of me. But it is clear from his actions that it is only in a work capacity.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i>I know I'm doing well at this job, even though I don't quite understand everything that I'm doing.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
OK, let's look at the features: This wasn't a frivolous, glitzy movie star dream. Notice Marlon kept his nose to the grindstone and not only worked, but only observed my work ability. It's all about work. Marlon Brando, a famously huge talent, with an abundance of tangible evidence of success--and he's working with me? I got a lot of good vibes from this dream.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
My take on all this? It represented a potent reminder to keep <i>my nose</i> to the grindstone and maybe, just maybe, I could derive something tangible from it. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
As an interesting aside: Upon waking, the song that kept repeating in my head was: <i>Beyond the Blue Horizon (waits a beautiful day, goodbye to things that bore me, joy is waiting for me, etc.)*</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
To me, this was a welcome sign. Couldn't be better. Always pay attention to songs that are already stuck in your head upon waking. They are often harbingers that support your dream content.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">*<i>Beyond the Blue Horizon </i>By Franke Harling, Richard A. Whiting. Lyrics by Leo Rubin, 1938.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Allposters: Marlon Brando poster.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-79579719251690536142014-07-07T10:03:00.000-07:002016-03-20T06:33:33.579-07:00MY SHIP COMES IN--WITH TELLY SAVALAS<i>Out on the lake, I steer a small boat toward the breakwall. The wall is higher than I imagined. The water, usually clean this far out--about a mile and a half from shore--appears particularly dirty with lots of foam surrounding the sturdy outboard.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Then I am on a rickety bridge where a man tears down the broken, rotted railings and fence and hauls it away. Fish, rising to the surface, are pale, weak and sickly.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>A short distance away, a large yacht glides steadily toward us. People on shore anxiously await the arrival of actor, Telly Savalas. Standing at the bow, on deck, he looks toward the throng.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ucztgSCR9trMZ6VoMczuWfQJkZg5ikhYQ_JsEJst0UvxZuQDBHa3KDuhuCW4eOBCMaaZJ_VFRylgSDj35XDsSlQwiFKHVj5R0qF35ETO2SCAxq-8HhuHUlMhAn4HdHvdXqfd7ic7bhc/s1600/frameimage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ucztgSCR9trMZ6VoMczuWfQJkZg5ikhYQ_JsEJst0UvxZuQDBHa3KDuhuCW4eOBCMaaZJ_VFRylgSDj35XDsSlQwiFKHVj5R0qF35ETO2SCAxq-8HhuHUlMhAn4HdHvdXqfd7ic7bhc/s1600/frameimage.jpg" width="164" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
Puzzled by the images in this dream, I tried to find some connection to real life. This is what stood out: In a sturdy little boat, I headed toward the breakwall that was higher than expected. I felt it referred to my fervent desire to "break" a cycle that impacted the family. The worries, like the wall, were much larger than I could handle alone. Anticipation was high for the arrival of Telly Savalas, and corresponded to hope in resolving our problems. Having often felt surrounded by dirt from the source of our worries, we (the fish) became pale, weak, and even sickly. In the hopes of having better times, I welcomed the arrival of someone who could make things better--the man tearing down rotted boards and Telly Savalas, the hero of the retro TV drama, Kojac. Telly's image brought forth the ever-present sucker. Sucker, in this context, could have referred to those easily duped. In over our depth and needing help, Telly's arrival on the deck of a large, nifty ship was just what we needed. Ahoy, Telly.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-84869967429843389962014-07-05T08:20:00.000-07:002017-08-06T16:27:15.061-07:00DREAMS--OUR BUILT-IN HELPERS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYQd9qga0AZ9Ld_6nXrrkcVo_A82MtDFsPyO8kFS_L4Upa0ralIM5mEIaIOlxj9DpQHkYpGHQq_m9B0hBWbh8irLZAfggNAgmOwbCzSDmvPOWI4ReuY5yYhfg861jncfA7m0YuShO654/s1600/donald-daisy-dancing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYQd9qga0AZ9Ld_6nXrrkcVo_A82MtDFsPyO8kFS_L4Upa0ralIM5mEIaIOlxj9DpQHkYpGHQq_m9B0hBWbh8irLZAfggNAgmOwbCzSDmvPOWI4ReuY5yYhfg861jncfA7m0YuShO654/s1600/donald-daisy-dancing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
During a long period, when my father's health was in decline, there were good days and bad days. Switching back and forth presented few problems. On good days, I got a little breather and that made bad days more manageable. But sometimes crisis followed crisis with stress levels high. Unable to focus on few things other than the immediate needs, I often failed to consciously recognize the necessity for a break from the daily tasks. So when I ignored my needs for too long, they were often handled in dreams--our built-in helpers.<br />
<br />
Of all the nighttime help I received during that time, this one best illustrated the need to get some relief from the weight of daily duties.<br />
<br />
<i>We are in the family room: Dad, my sister and I. We are all relaxing--looking kind of inert. I am sitting in the recliner. On TV, we watch a show that features plenty of drama. As we watch, I casually pick up the remote and switch to cartoons. Speaking in a calm, low-key manner, I say, "I'll only watch this for a little while, then I'll put the real show back on."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
The dream, in very simple terms, provided clear, recognizable metaphors and was easy to understand. The built-in helper even relieved the dreamer of having to decipher a complex illustration! Could this have been more succinct?<br />
<br />
When I awoke, I didn't even have to write it down. The images, not easily forgotten, stuck with me and in small ways, I figured out what I needed to do for myself. While we may not always be able to figure out what to do, our dreams will show the direction. If one dream doesn't work, another one will soon take its place until we pay attention and find a solution.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Allposters: <i>Donald and Daisy Dancing, Walt Disney</i></span><br />
<br />
<br />Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-15394726241763355372014-06-26T11:13:00.000-07:002017-08-06T16:27:35.130-07:00THE FLIMSY LITTLE BIKE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLWnTYXBF_GA_ifMK3W-9LJwIO0wPM4IbLONZa5WTjyz47Vwo-ITAyPvcUGcWnJPXOehd3OHFAcTIrP_ABbDuvZESTthkZGhhYxcZ0qEGNdw9HhzM03DkkE2XGAM56iA4GuUU0C-sd6U/s1600/Old+bicycle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLWnTYXBF_GA_ifMK3W-9LJwIO0wPM4IbLONZa5WTjyz47Vwo-ITAyPvcUGcWnJPXOehd3OHFAcTIrP_ABbDuvZESTthkZGhhYxcZ0qEGNdw9HhzM03DkkE2XGAM56iA4GuUU0C-sd6U/s1600/Old+bicycle.jpg" width="149" /></a></div>
Some years ago, facing new and challenging times, anxiety over my circumstances left me exhausted. On my own now, with three children, I was always on the alert. Anticipating some calamity, I wanted to be prepared, but all I really did was "awfulize." Each fall brought the fear of our ancient furnace failing--a costly repair or replacement. And then there was hillbilly car. Only ten years old, it already sported saucer-sized rust patches along trim on both sides. Even the over-sized trunk's rubber molding was shot. On a rainy Sunday, my son, along with three teammates, loaded the trunk with all their athletic gear. Arriving at the playing field, they were shocked to find all their clothes and equipment soaked with rain. I couldn't even imagine having to get another car for a long time, and I didn't, but that's another story.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Then there were health concerns. Though my health was good, I worried about what would happen if it failed. Loaded down with all this stuff in my head, if I didn't calm down soon, I <i>would</i> break down.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Luck was with me and I became somewhat relieved of my habit of "awfulizing" when I had this dream:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>I am riding a flimsy bike. And as I maneuver the shaky bike, I look over some of its features: wheels that are mismatched and small, long handlebars--out of proportion to the rest of the bike, and it looks too old to carry me very far. The path is an obstacle course, littered with common, everyday items strewn about. There are widely-spaced articles of clothing, small tools, old rags, and bits and pieces of spare parts from long-discarded appliances.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>I successfully maneuver these small obstacles.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The important message communicated from this dream was: Even though riding a flimsy little bike, I was able to successfully maneuver these small things thrown in my path. The obstacles were not only small, but they were widely spaced--manageable. The small wheels referred to my resources, and I figured the extra-long handlebars meant I had lots to handle. Faced with these obstacles when viewed as a whole, appeared daunting. But when taken one at a time, it was not so intimidating. And, while the bike looked old, it carried me the distance. Grateful for understanding the dream message, and having successfully traversed around the surmountable obstacles took a lot of pressure off and calmed me down.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our dreams, via metaphor, will help put things in perspective and show us how our nighttime helpers communicate.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Allposters: <i>A Very Old Girls' Red Bike Rests . . . by Paul Damien</i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-9115575536320208082014-06-23T05:00:00.001-07:002017-08-06T16:29:37.442-07:00TAMING THE ELUSIVE CHILD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/15/1503/7ZFBD00Z/posters/george-morland-old-woman-waving-a-stick-at-a-boy-1793.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Old Woman Waving a Stick at a Boy, 1793 Giclee Print" border="0" class="mainImage shadow" src="http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/15/1503/7ZFBD00Z/posters/george-morland-old-woman-waving-a-stick-at-a-boy-1793.jpg" height="240" itemprop="image" style="-webkit-box-shadow: rgb(102, 102, 102) 5px 5px 7px; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-style: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: initial; border-right-style: initial; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-color: rgb(221, 221, 221); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; box-shadow: rgb(102, 102, 102) 5px 5px 7px;" title="Old Woman Waving a Stick at a Boy, 1793 Giclee Print" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In a slump, I was plagued over my inability to commit to and produce my dream stories. Even though I had hundreds of stories to choose from, I often had, and still have, problems choosing one to write about. As I searched through journals of dreams, I rejected one after the other as: inappropriate, redundant, uninteresting, not enough universal appeal, etc. Frustration over my storytelling produced this dream:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>I receive a job assignment--stacks of papers, like surveys. I rebel against this assignment; it's too big, and I am concerned over my brief accomplishment. In addition, I am hampered by having to chase an elusive child. He won't come when I call and just keeps running away from me. Every time I get close to him, he throws up a barrier, like slamming a gate, just when I am closing in on him.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i>Not giving in to this rascal, I walk away and go into the bathroom and close the door. He knocks, but I don't answer--playing hard-to-get. Then he gets quiet, so I open the door. Off he goes again, and I cannot catch him.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The assignment, with its multiple pages, resembled my dream journal--a heading of dates followed by paragraphs. Concerned over my output or "brief accomplishment," I see the connection to the elusive child--my dream-story project. As I chased him and began closing in, he threw up barriers (i.e. inappropriate, redundant, uninteresting, etc.), just as I did sometimes when I found chores or other things to do instead of writing. Then, no longer running away after I retreated to the bathroom (a place where one could get relief), I got a knock (the nagging signal to get to work). Opening the door led me right back where I started. Back to the elusive child.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This is how it was as I procrastinated about getting down to work. Seeking relief by hiding in the bathroom brought only a brief respite from my nagging inner voice. I guess it was time to reign myself in and get back to my writing practice, while trying to tame the elusive child.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Allposters. <i>Woman Waving a Stick at a Boy. Artist, George Morland</i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i> </i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "helvetica nueve" , "arial"; font-size: 12px;"></span>Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-26307951518590120922014-06-18T07:33:00.000-07:002017-08-06T16:30:00.703-07:00TURTLE IN A GREEN DRESS<a href="http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/74/7421/R8GR100Z/posters/vittorio-matteo-corcos-daydream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Daydream Giclee Print" border="0" class="mainImage shadow" src="http://imgc.allpostersimages.com/images/P-473-488-90/74/7421/R8GR100Z/posters/vittorio-matteo-corcos-daydream.jpg" height="320" itemprop="image" title="Daydream Giclee Print" width="240" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Recognizing our challenges, so that we may make life changes, surely doesn't happen overnight. It has been my experience that constant reminders are necessary. And even then, changes occur by small increments. Anyone who has tackled a life change will attest to that. Being so close to our own problems makes it more difficult to see ourselves objectively. That's where dreams come in. As you begin paying attention to your dreams, you will notice plots that seem to hang together with a lot of creative ways in presenting them--over and over--until you pay attention!<br />
<br />
In handling my own ambivalence--fear of sticking my neck out--I was bombarded by stories like this one:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>It is dusk in the city. I walk along a deserted sidewalk, peering into the windows of elegant shops. It reminds me of Fifth Avenue--without all the people. I'm there to buy a fancy dress, but all the stores seem dark. Thinking that shops wouldn't be open at this late hour, I half-heartedly try a door. Surprised that it opens, I imagine I won't find anything. I go in. Looking around, I can't believe there are so many beautiful dresses. Then I blurt out, "What size are they all--two?" Then I see the ONE--elegant, celery green, the fabric moving fluidly. In the fitting room, I try it on. The dress is perfection. Fitting perfectly, even the color enhances my appearance. But I reject it saying, "It has no turtleneck."</i></blockquote>
<br />
Wow, did you see all the metaphor? I was so scared (to change and stick my neck out) that I went out late expecting the stores to be closed. Opening the door half-heartedly, I was already giving up on the idea. At every turn there was some excuse. I expected that, "I probably won't find anything." Then I imagined they were all too small. As I continued to thwart my own plans, I found the perfect dress. Unsurprisingly, I rejected it. Still needing to retreat into my (turtle) shell, it looked like I'd need a lot more work before I was ready to move forward.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Picture from Allposters: Daydream by Vittorio Matteo Corcos</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-42812712180307530302014-06-08T13:38:00.001-07:002017-08-06T16:30:29.331-07:00FLIPPIN' THE BIRD<a href="http://cdn.superstock.com/4220/Thumb/4220-1856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: "times"; font-size: small;"></span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: "times"; font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnMSUU853kGbItIvyLw4MXHNWvTh9XMxIG90546qZUwCfoUaJpEafpZ515PreaX7PDsHq35g1MWg-Li6Kcun-7rSdKK8xKQ3Mc6l7H2oCa_debtGwlEqMGbH7ZM8a2STy5gVbrjbPC3M/s1600/honore-daumier-daumier-advocate-1860.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnMSUU853kGbItIvyLw4MXHNWvTh9XMxIG90546qZUwCfoUaJpEafpZ515PreaX7PDsHq35g1MWg-Li6Kcun-7rSdKK8xKQ3Mc6l7H2oCa_debtGwlEqMGbH7ZM8a2STy5gVbrjbPC3M/s400/honore-daumier-daumier-advocate-1860.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-family: "times"; font-size: small;">Thinking that I'd stayed too long at my job, I was hypersensitive. Many positions were being filled by younger and younger employees. When I'd started there, I was everyone's contemporary, then I became everyone's mother. I needed to get out of there before I became everyone's g</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "open sans" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "times"; font-size: small; line-height: normal;">randma. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times";">Insecurities about having exhausted my contribution at work spawned this dream:</span><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I am being harassed at work--by my supervisor. Cruelly interrogating me, he </i><i>has even formed a committee to scrutinize all the correspondence I've produced over the years. Sitting around a large conference table, while building this case against me, one of my interrogators aggressively flips a document toward me. I'm to explain why I had X'd out some sentences and had substituted the handwritten word "hummingbird" in their place. As he discusses this, I give him "the look" and do eye-rolling. Then, still defending myself against these charges, I confess that once I even wrote "shit" on a paper. As they continue this witch hunt, I announce my intention to get a lawyer. But I know I'm really going to quit.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Socialized and hypersensitive about having reached retirement age, I put lots of pressure on myself to get the heck out, before they tossed me out. I'd seen others before me experience a lot of humiliation by being forced out, and I didn't want to be one of them. The pressure I created for myself was not necessarily a bad thing. It was a push in the right direction.<br />
<br />
Deciphering the dream sequence taking place before the tribunal was easy. Having felt out-of-my-element, at times, in the business world, I did have to explain myself on occasion. My role in representing the employees' perspective often brought me into conflict with the principals of the company. Too often, I found business jargon dehumanizing. So substituting "hummingbird," for a paragraph's worth of words, surely resonated with me, preferring the elusive bird image over the usual "business speak."<br />
<br />
And, I would probably have wanted to write "shit" a countless number of times.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">Picture from Allposters: H. Daumier, Advocate, 1860</span>Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-89659548231245162492014-05-04T13:06:00.001-07:002017-08-06T16:30:47.245-07:00THE PILLOWCASE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KPHY3IoeGwGxuwE5ZItvKxgNldEjRQXgUv3EbqWhvb0mxYAAa46dpYyFnmN_9eCc6VF3nJCQvSb6oHmvl72y0SDViBPccBJnMu1T1FBrJitPo6SdkiaBewy435E38_dSc_PbO5Uw-G0/s1600/melica73-crochet-hook-on-wooden-background.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1KPHY3IoeGwGxuwE5ZItvKxgNldEjRQXgUv3EbqWhvb0mxYAAa46dpYyFnmN_9eCc6VF3nJCQvSb6oHmvl72y0SDViBPccBJnMu1T1FBrJitPo6SdkiaBewy435E38_dSc_PbO5Uw-G0/s320/melica73-crochet-hook-on-wooden-background.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
In the little coal-mining town where my mother-in-law was born, life's hardships far exceeded luxuries, yet she produced beauty with a minimum of material, an abundance of toil and the talent of an engineer. Though long gone from her labors, her work stands in testament to her achievements.<br />
<br />
High up on a shelf in my closet, tied with blue ribbon, is the pillowcase. I've retired it, so that it may be preserved.<br />
<br />
It reminds me of her desire to create beauty from the commonest of materials. The original fabric was thick and sturdy, rough muslin. But years of use and washing took off the rough edges and gave it some softness. The fabric started out as a bag to hold 50-pounds of flour. When the bag was emptied, after scrupulous laundering, Anna used the fabric for covering the kitchen table when she baked weekly bread and holiday strudels and nut rolls. More laundering, and the fabric became softer still, but developed a nickel-sized hole. So she retired it from its primary function and with nearly invisible stitches and a patch, mended the hole. Unable to purchase new crochet thread, she gathered some remnants from past projects--pale green, soft pink, and cream. Devising a pattern from her own imagination, she created beautiful crocheted lace to form a lovely border. As I was just starting out, she knew I could use another pillow case, but apologized about its humble origins. She needn't have worried.<br />
<br />
Anna lent her artistic skills to an abundance of creations, some of them so intricate, they belong in a museum. And while most crochet craftspeople used written patterns as their guidelines, hers were original--conjured up through imagination or in seeing a pattern somewhere.<br />
<br />
In those days, no one considered this home art to have much value beyond the family, and certainly not on par with professional artists or engineers. I always believed her son, a mechanical engineer, got his talent from her. This modest woman would never have given herself the credit she deserved. What a blessing to have tangible evidence of her skills and talent and, above all, her generosity.<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Picture by: Melica73, Allposters</span><br />
<br />Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6703133213530635853.post-54770608981255605312014-04-30T10:28:00.002-07:002016-03-20T07:09:06.788-07:00SHORT-CHANGED AT THE EMPORIUM OF FAME<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk9Q3-GxdVP8jGDjdBzWcfalpx5rAKiMvlRrBnpSsFuNi8wqBJouUJ1CXYIURf4_6VO-pKgc4gXVSIVGQvuqc8cIN2sLLHGEi0dCqlCyQnyiepxSd7a6SdXmysyATxKpZq1GGcc2Iwvs/s1600/jess-aiken-movie-star-with-border.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk9Q3-GxdVP8jGDjdBzWcfalpx5rAKiMvlRrBnpSsFuNi8wqBJouUJ1CXYIURf4_6VO-pKgc4gXVSIVGQvuqc8cIN2sLLHGEi0dCqlCyQnyiepxSd7a6SdXmysyATxKpZq1GGcc2Iwvs/s200/jess-aiken-movie-star-with-border.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Chasing fame before accomplishment looks like the modern order of things. Rather than study or struggle through basic hard work and the skills acquired through experience, too often in today's world self-proclaimed trend setters seek to leap from embryonic stage directly to fame--no in between--the "in between" covering that area where the hard work begins. The place where you "humble yourself or life will do it for you." (Quote by Joubert Botha.) It is the place where you discover all the things you don't know. Where artifice is replaced by competence--results gained from toil and experience.<br />
<br />
Who has not day-dreamed about the glory of fame sometimes? Daydreaming is OK. You can visit, you just don't want to live there or build upon a foundation fabricated by pure imagination. There are no shortcuts. Yet today we have seen those who embrace social media as the vehicle to instant fame, becoming dependent upon it for validation. Swearing allegiance to the screen, they shut themselves off from engagement in the greater world. And if their lean accomplishments appear wanting, falsehoods can always fill in the gaps--no real effort involved.<br />
<br />
Instead of fame, then, maybe we should shoot for competence. Then, as our efforts bring about desired changes, we may still hold on to dreams, but be willing to put in the work required to realize our dreams.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppjrNBlx9VtjLI6yueoWthcMG18cqNWELvaJd37ik-gPndTXqjLtvpn6ktPJPk80JLrCqBGc1_GC6XzCKwrav3Z4qWNKtGbIzL7s2_t9jMbp4cBIpsR2yOkERXywPakk2ZW3tY51a1jg/s1600/irina-qqq-art-urban-graffiti-raster-background.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhppjrNBlx9VtjLI6yueoWthcMG18cqNWELvaJd37ik-gPndTXqjLtvpn6ktPJPk80JLrCqBGc1_GC6XzCKwrav3Z4qWNKtGbIzL7s2_t9jMbp4cBIpsR2yOkERXywPakk2ZW3tY51a1jg/s200/irina-qqq-art-urban-graffiti-raster-background.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">www.TheMoonflowerVine.com</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Movie Star: Jess Aiken, Allposters</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Music Collage: IrinaQQQ, Allposters</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span> <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Carol A. Gardnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04415790737370643753noreply@blogger.com0