"It's bad luck to be superstitious." —E. Pèlegrin

I awoke this morning to a nasal northeastern woman's voice saying, "The Lord wants you to call." Very matter of fact. The other day it was the distinct voice of my youngest brother saying my name almost as a question, as one does when one hears the voice of the person one is telephoning on the other end of the line, "Martie..." That call, the waking call from my brother, seemed less a portent than this morning's message. Although, not having talked with him in months, I did wonder if he and his family were all okay. Guilt, I think.

But what do I remember of Jung's "great dream" theory? Not a fully formed allegory, could this be a great dream? I don't know. Being asked by my psyche to call the Lord at a time when I am taking steps to realize my lifelong calling to healing work seems pretty big. But am I indulging in mere superstition? And is my psyche really a Jersey girl? Hmm. Maybe something simpler is afoot.

Wake up. I think that's it. Just wake up. Stop dreaming. Put your ambitions and knowledge to work in the material world. It's a new day. It's time to get started. Act now.

Not quite awake and already I can't sit still

Dazzlingly jumbled wake from dreaming on this cool, gray morning. Wanted to sleep more, but there was a mosquito. Downside of the much-needed rain.

Blank page, blank screen, the stillness of the interstices between activities, the essential aimlessness of avoidance annihilating the psyche's longing for purpose. The white noise of semi-attention found by looking out of the side of my mind's eye. Stifling substitute for calm. But face what? It's so high you can't get over it, so low you can't get under it, so wide you can't get around it, you must come in at the door. Or however that goes.

At last it's time to work.