Tuesday, April 29, 2008

When Dreams Speak

And then, one day he started dreaming.

He felt the cool morning breeze shuffle through his hair; his palms and feet were growing numb. It remained so at a comfortable degree, yet he folded his arms and shrugged, trying to bring in more conscious numbness. He could feel the tender shoots of the corn tickling his bare back and the slushy pathway giving way under each step of his.. Walking through the field, drenched by the morning shower of dew, he felt joyful. He did not know for what, but yet he felt serene and blissful. He was dreaming!

And then in yonder, the golden rays of the morning sun, falling on a cloud of smoke highlighted it and shaped it like (and which smiled at him) a sensuous feminine figure. He quickened his pace to get a glimpse of that angelic pose, but every step he took, he wanted to pause and think of the path he had trodden. Would he be taken for a ride? Would it just be a mirage caused by the senses? Was not the path he was walking, to be finished first? He was dreaming!

With remorse he looked up, as if trying to ask God’s help for solving his dilemma, but more as a trial at evading the misty smoke and the scene he saw. Looking onto the sky thus, he walked, always aware that he did see the colors of a feminine smile. The moon had not yet set, and its sultry rays reminded him of the journey he was to take. It reminded him that he was to reach it, and it reminded him of the stars and the empty magical space beyond. The supreme emptiness was yet to be travelled and discovered. He felt a tinge of fear; a dab of insecurity. Would he make it? He was dreaming!
Further and farther as time went by, he couldn’t help but take a peek to his side…where the clouds had been shaping themselves as a lady. He tried to make himself believe that it was just an illusion. As he looked, he found that the figure was not exquisitely beautiful, but was glowing with a mystical aura. It was still there: the boundaries better defined and the figure much more enthralling. It was pulling him into its grasp—not too near, not too far, but at the same time retreating. He reached to touch the hazy vision and embrace it. But every time he tried, it withdrew by an inch… He was dreaming!

Suddenly, the moon started becoming brighter, brighter than the sun…engulfing everything. It started changing its form, as if swallowing everything.

He woke up.

He was not dreaming. He understood. His dreams were speaking to him.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008


When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon – do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter
if you do not carry them within your soul
if your heart does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds
as many sensual perfumes you can;
visit many Egyptian cities,
to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.
Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.
Without her you would never have set out on the road.
She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.
Wise as you have become, with so much experience,
you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Greek Poet, Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)