sharing a dream

A dream evolves over time.  I've come to understand this evolution as a simple truth in life.  To know your own dreams is to know the time and space and angst and patience that makes the dream come clear.  But to be able to help others, those who are closest to you, know your dreams - see them, taste them, feel them - this eludes me. 

On a recent morning, when I found myself without the energy to enter into my daily routine - shower, commute, work - I consciously pulled back into my mind allowing myself a retreat from the world. 

One. day.

The television sat still, its black face staring at me in the silence.  The myriad of books on meditation, faith, social issues, ethics rested on my nightstand.  They, too, took more energy than I could muster. 

I meditated, my usual attempt to silence my thoughts.  The same thoughts that seemed to be consuming me, sometimes so loud I am sure the person sitting next to me can hear their impatient beckoning.  These thoughts that seem to reduce me to a useless person, moping, unable to move.

Somehow I know in these thoughts my dreams are desperate to find another soul with whom to connect.  My dreams, I realize, are hidden in the noise racing in my mind.  It seems the chatter grows louder when something needs out, when a dream needs an anchoring point somewhere in my life. A friend.

So, on this day of rest, I thought I'd take a trip to the library. Perhaps there I would find answers that would move me from this lonely place of self pity.  My first stop: the religion section.  I searched for Thomas Merton, contemplative theologian and Thich Nhat Hanh, Buddhist teacher.  I found a few interesting books and began my pile.  Surely something more about meditation would help me replant my feet.

In the back of my mind, I remembered the list of gardening books I had been researching and headed to the appropriate aisle.  Off the shelves, I chose this book:

This simple book which gave voice and life and movement to my dreams.  What's more is that I haven't read even one page.  

But, Papa Bear has!

You see, our garden began as a hobby - a place for the boys to use their big tools and find a bit of their childhood.  All the while my dreams of our garden have ripened into a lush, full, sustaining, connection between my family, this abundant Earth, my grace giving God, and the imagined harvests of years to come.  Yes, this dream has evolved.  Into something really big. 

And this simple book, picked up as an after thought and whose spiritual value seemed to pale in comparison with its borrowed companions, gave voice to my dreams.  Shouted loud and clear to my favorite earth lover that my dream was more than a passing wish.  Somehow, he heard that our children, too, were understanding the beauty of eating "garden to table."  Somehow, this book seduced him into jumping feet first into my dream, now a co-creator in what is to come.  And that makes me very, very happy indeed.