Indigenize!

Rekindle Your Wild Joy and sense of deep Belonging through spiritual ecopsychology and the arts, incl. bioregional awareness, animistic perspectives, strategies for simple living, & low/no-tech DIY fun.

Japan! May 14, 2019

I’ve not posted here for some time, having frittered my labors on Facebook instead. Welcome back to all of us!

Hopefully this short series will be fun for you to read. I’m off to Japan for 12 days with my BFF Julianne Skai Arbor (aka TreeGirl). We will go to INFOM, the international conference of Forest Medicine, and also visit Shinrin-Yoku sites on our own for independent research. Plus, Japan!! I’ve never been.

I landed in Narita/Tokyo last night after a 12 hour flight from Denver. Non-stop. Even though I’ve lived with it my entire life, my father being a pilot, I will never stop seeing flying as anything but a miracle.

Looking out of our hotel window, I was amazed to see that we were 12 stories above a giant forest! I thought of this whole area is being one giant city but I was wrong. In my jetlagged sleep, half in and out of a hypnagogic state, every time I came back from the bathroom or whatever, I repeatedly dreamed that I crawled back into bed in the hollow of a giant tree; part of that forest outside the window. I was held cozy in the tree’s body. It happened so many times that it seems it must have been true. So I already love Japan.

Then breakfast included fish! What other delights await?

 

Dreams at 98 May 6, 2015

Filed under: Adventures,With Elderly Parents — BrujaHa @ 11:38 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Dad, 2013

My dad has been having dreams about my long-dead mom. At first he didn’t want to tell me their content. They’re sexy dreams; sweet dreams. He’s in bed with her. He gets up to go to the bathroom, and they are conversing. So simple; so sweet.

He often feels now that she, or his also-deceased second wife, are there in the room with him. Sometimes he gets the strong sensation that one of them is in a room he’s just about to enter, and he’s surprised when he opens the door to find she is not there — even though he knows full well they’ve not got bodies anymore.

The veils between the worlds are growing thin for him.

This is one element of what it means to be 98 years old.

***

I haven’t been writing about life with him here. I share some stuff with my friends on Facebook, but not here because I keep thinking this blog should not be personal in nature, but of widespread interest. The longer I go through this journey with my beloved elder, though, the more I shake my head and think, “Wow, I sure wish I’d known about that before.” So I’m going to start writing about it here for myself to process and help remember, and also for you folks, because there’s a chance you might find something useful for yourself in my experiences. And also because what the heck: life is short, and stories are best shared.