When Your Daydreams are Nightmares

“It’s just going to be that kind of day,” my friend said as he got in my car. “Everything’s gone wrong.” He started on a litany of all the bothersome things that had happened since he got out of bed.

“Well,” I said, “I’m glad you got all that out of the way! Used up all your bad luck first thing. Now you can let it go and have a fine rest-of-the-day.” And he did. But if I hadn’t steered him to look at the possibility of a good day ahead, he might have gone on and on about his little clashes and misadventures.

Painful events produce mental movies of what happened, replays of the situation. They’re daydreams our minds create to help us realize that it was true, that it really happened and that it hurt. That’s a pretty common response to pain. It’s the first step toward accepting things, to getting to the point where we can say, however reluctantly, “It is what it is.”

The next step is figure out what you need to do next. What are some of your options? What’s most urgent? What direction do you want to go? You might still feel the raw pain, but it, too, is what it is—an injury of some kind, and injuries take time to heal. You let it sit there, acknowledging it, but accepting it as a part of your current experience. In the meantime, take a survey of your resources and start moving in the direction that your better self most wants to go, the one that makes the most sense.

But first, you’re in that place where you’re remembering what happened, trying to get a grasp on it and somehow make it different. There’s a trap here, though. If you play the movie over and over and over, you can get stuck in it. You can get so stuck that it becomes the focus of your reality. That’s when our daydreams become living nightmares.

Remember the phrase, “What you focus on expands?” It applies full force here. Your mind will always search for information to bring you when it knows you’re interested in something. If you’re looking at nothing but your mental movie about the hurtful thing that happened, your mind will bring you more and more ways that you were hurt like this in the past or might be hurt in similar ways in the future. That generates fear, anxiety, and avoidance strategies–none of which are helpful. In fact, your fear makes your brain think that looking out for danger is now a priority matter. It will point out all the signals it can find that you might be risking another blow. And there you are, stuck in the nightmare.

Now here’s the good news. You are the one who’s in charge of what’s playing in the theater of your mind. You’re running the projector that beams the movie onto the screen of your mind. If you can see that this movie has played over and over, you can look for a different movie to play. That lets you break the nightmare’s spell.

You might not be able to switch movies instantly. The nightmare one has dug itself into the screen of your attention and its drama has you hooked. But you can interrupt it as often as want by asking yourself a simple question like “What’s good about her/him/this mess?” or “What’s good about this present moment?” Questions like that take your brain by surprise. “A new game!” it says, happy to have a new assignment. And it will start looking for answers to your question. Robert Maurer, Ph.D,,says in his book One Small Step Can Change Your Life: The Kaizen Way, that you can start by asking your little question at leaset once a day, and keep it up every day for a couple weeks. Link asking it to brushing your teeth or drinking your morning coffee, or when you go to bed. You could also jot down the answers you get if you’re so inclined.

Gradually, looking for the good will become a habit, quieting and eventually replacing your nightmare. Your world will expand and brighten, your moods will shift to the enjoyable end of the scale. And it starts by asking a simple question: “What’s good here?”

Remember, what you focus on expands. Focus on asking yourself one little question at least once a day about what’s good, and see how the goodness grows.

Wishing you a week of surprising smiles.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

The Time of the Rocks’ Remembering

The creek is all but dry now,
the rocks that make up its bed
exposed. Feeling the dry air
against their surfaces they remember
the high places from which they fell
ages ago, and before that, the eons
they spent inside the earth’s womb
until a thunderous tumult pushed them
upward through earth’s crust to touch,
at last, the sky. They recall the way
that trees grew between them,
winding their great roots in a living caress,
freeing them, one by one, to tumble
downward, to begin their long journey
through this so cool and wondrous home.

The Dream Collector’s Story

I am a dream collector. I gather your dreams and carry them high into the velvety sky. And there they float, warmed by the sun, charged by the electric sparks of a billion stars, drifting on the cosmic tides.

That’s where the dance begins. Your dreams begin to glide toward other’s dreams, drawn to those that share your heart’s desire. A hope for peace joins with another hope for peace in a shimmering web. A love of invention joins another one. Comfort joins comfort. Healing joins healing. And each dream in the network contributes its views to all the others, keeping its own identity, being enlarged by what the others give. And the whole is a wondrous ballet, and a song.

And just as raindrops fall when the clouds grow full, so do dreams descend back to earth and come true in the life of each dreamer, every one at exactly the right place and time, guided by a wisdom far beyond my own. But it is a downpouring of love, compassionate and joyous. And that is all I need to know.

Old Friends

Hey, pretty petunia, old friend.
It wouldn’t be summer without you, you know.
Why, I remember when I was only three
how you lined the path to the dirt-floored cellar
where Aunt Maybelle kept her wringer washer,
your scent mixing with the fragrance of soap
as she washed clothes, and how kittens played
their games of hide and seek beneath your blooms.
That long you’ve colored my summers,
well over half a century now. And still you’re with me,
smiling outside my kitchen door. I drink in your purple,
share the morning sun, and smile, remembering old friends.

Holding the Memories

A friend told me that if I see something
that I want to save in my memory,
to blink my eyes at it, deliberately,
as if my eyelids were a camera’s shutter.
It works for me. And when I use it,
I sometimes suppose that maybe
that’s what the earth is doing
when she closes her eyelids at night.
Remembering. Everything.
Just in case, overnight, it disappears.
I join her in her intention, carrying
with me as much as my soul can hold.
Just in case we’re the last ones ever
to visit this most amazing place.
You never know.

Suddenly Sunset

After a day of clear and cloudless skies, sunset took us by surprise. And not only us. July herself almost forgot the time of day.

At the very last minute, she whistled for the winds and they blew in a batch of rolling fluff so her chance to paint the evening wouldn’t pass her by. She grabbed deep lavender and shades of gold and hurled them, laughing, against her canvas of clouds. With her broadest brush, she swirled the colors together, heaping them in layers against the blue and glowing sky.

“Good one, July!” we cried, applauding from our porch chairs as we watched the sudden show.

Then, as quickly as she’d brought it, she hurried it away, trading it for a blue that melted into indigo sparkled with fireflies and stars.

We sat there, quietly chatting, feeling the glow long after the of last gold faded away.

To Walk Where Serenity Reigns

Now and then, when the world seems wholly askew,
it’s good to walk where serenity reigns,
where all the pieces effortlessly flow together and make sense.

To walk in such a place is to begin to understand
that this is a hint of the whole and of its nature,
given to remind you that the situation is far larger
than you had at first assumed.

You can tell by the way your heart is at peace here,
as if this is a swatch of your true, spacious home,
as if this is a deeper truth than turmoil tells.
You can tell by the way your trust flows out to meet it.
Somehow, you realize, all is exactly as it is meant to be.
You do not need to understand; that will come in its own time.
For now, simply breathe in this infinite calm,
this limitless reassurance, this perfect, all-loving Yes.

Rainy Days

“I like rainy days the best,” an old artist told me. “That’s when the colors shine true.”

I understood what he meant.  The same holds true for people as well.   When the clouds are the thickest and it seems that the stream of troubles will never end, you find out who’s got enough perspective to smile, to reach out with a helping hand, to speak a sincere and encouraging word.

Circumstances are just that, you know – good or bad only because we label them so. To the lily, hours of endless rain are no reason not to dance.

Getting Past the Rocky Places

So here we are, at Step Three of the “Recipe for Happiness.” This one tells us that once we have learned Step One, letting go of what’s gone, and Step Two, that says to be grateful for what’s left, we’re ready for the final step. And I confess that I found this one a real challenge. It’s message is to “Look forward to what is to come.”

We who inhabit this planet seem to be living in an increasingly precarious and uncertain time. As I’ve mentioned before, I kind of like the phrase “The Great Shaking,” to describe what’s going on. A lot of us feel shaken by unexpected happenings in our lives these days, on both personal and global levels. It can be hard to maintain hope for the future when you’re in the midst of insidious and confusing events.

But hey, if you’re a Joy Warrior, you have to give optimism at least a chance. So I wrestled a bit with the thought of looking forward to what’s to come, and I cobbled together this little positivity approach:

The Invisible Positivity Globe

Leave open a space for the possibility of happy endings. Things could work out very well–better than you ever imagined.

Go ahead; try this: Fantasize about clearing out a little corner of your mind, maybe over there on a shelf. Now take an invisible little energy globe into your hand and ask it to hold the possibility that a superb outcome will emerge. Just the possibility. Then tuck that little globe on the shelf. (A friend of mine keeps all her ideas-to-explore on such a shelf. Poking around in there can be a fascinating experience. You learn so much, she tells me. And it’s so interesting and insightful! And fun!) Anyway, now you’ve created a space with your little globe that you can turn to at any time to see what positive possibilities it’s projecting.

Some friends and I used to call looking for possibilities “fishing in the cosmic soup.” All kinds of surprising ideas are there. And that little invisible globe over there on your shelf? It’s the holder of the energy-nuggets in the soup that are made of peaceful and positive possibilities. They swirl around inside your little globe as you gaze at it, projecting them onto its invisible walls, and they become daydreams for you, any time you want to see them.

Listen, every path has its rocky stretches. It’s part of the package deal you were given when you arrived here. The ugly stretches come. But we keep going, even when we feel lost and maybe even afraid. Then, sooner or later, here comes another unexpected turn. It opens to a world of radical clarity and calm, offering you a smooth and winding path that stretches as far as the eye can see. Imagine that! Play with imagining what your ideal world would look like.

For a long time I was amazed that the world worked at all, so great was its chaos. Little did I know that even greater causes for amazement were quickly sliding down the pike. But here they are. And the more I see of what’s going on here, on this interesting planet of ours, the more amazed I am indeed, given all this shaking, that the world works at all. Life can be bewildering. Scary even. You have to watch out for what some call “fear porn.” That’s a craze going on that’s helllbent on making us all very afraid. Some say it’s part of a plan. Who knows! Everything seems a bit surreal these days. Just learn to check in with your thoughts now and then. And remember what I recently shared with you: You can’t stop thoughts from knocking at your door, but you don’t have to entertain them.

You can always return to the present and look around to see what’s happening here, now. It’s a good place to visit as you go about your travels through this movie of your life. And when things seem rocky and your hope is sliding away, take a few minutes to visit your positivity globe. Let it show you some of the countless ways that things could work out for the good, for us all. Because, you know, they can.

Warmly,
Susan

Image by J Lang from Pixabay

Note to Late Bloomers

First isn’t always best. Oh, it’s daring
alright, with its thirst for adventure,
and someone must try the waters,
scout the way. But most must fill
the middle, and some stand at the end.
If you’re one of those, the last guys,
don’t envy those who went before,
but thank them. They are, after all,
the scaffolding on which you stand,
affording you the broadest view,
the one that experience alone provides.
Your turn is coming. Meanwhile,
watch and listen. Let the best of what
you see feed you with wisdom and grow
your strength. Then, when the light
signals your time, blossom boldly,
singing your truest song.