Circle Dream

Today I ran nearly 9-miles, covering old ground and new. The cold wind whipped through my tights and jacket, while the sun warmed me and brightened my eyes. My runs nowadays consist of trying to restore the running muscles which dissipated as I crawled on life's path for several months. I lost my voice to speak and my legs to run. Transformation came to me not unlike Dickinson's carriage driver, though I did not hitch a ride. I walked instead, which wore down the patterns of my soul.

The path has united me.

My older sister once told me, in a rather agitated tone, that she does not understand why I "run around in circles, without ever going anywhere!" I never analyzed my running from the perspective of a non-runner, and when she gave me this opinion, I characteristically ignored her on the basis that she could never understand me running in circles, any more than I could understand her thinking in circles. My sister gave me this unsolicited observation just four short months before she unexpectedly died at age 46, on March 8, 2008. It has taken me 8-months, several hours of sitting upon the grass of her grave, and over 1800 running/walking miles to digest her absence. As fate would have it, she is buried next to my mother, who died in 1997, at age 58, from a heart attack.

Four months prior to my mother's death, in a very justified fit of anger, I vowed to "dance on her grave." It is a vow that I never kept, or even wanted to keep. When I sit on my sister's grass, my failures haunt me.

The hardest lesson that life has to offer has imprinted itself on my soul. Humility involves a letting go. True Humility does not wait for us to release the grip.

My sister was correct. I do run in circles, metaphorically and literally. There really is no other way to run life's path, because even when we delude ourselves about linear running, it is, in all actuality, a circle-run.

My children and I once made dream-catchers. I am 1/8th Cherokee Indian. Our craft-hour was my first glance backward toward my ancestors of that lineage. Though back then, I was not yet a runner on the outside, my soul was already running in circles. I was intended to meet with God's Eye. In the Native American dream-catchers, the circle represents the unbroken wholeness from which we draw our power and strength. It is our Source of Being. Everything is in the circle. Within the circle the traditional people follow their ancient ways of connection to each other and to Mother Earth. At the center of All That Is the Creator weaves the Web of Life, spiraling from the known into the unknown. Energy manifests as matter as it follows the path of the spiral and then matter disappears as it leaves the spiral of life to become energy once again. Four orders of being--the rocks, water, and air; the trees, grasses, and flowers; the four-legged, winged, swimmers, and the crawlers; and the two-legged creatures, the humans--are interdependent on each other and are one in the essential foundation of the universe. All beings are woven together in the matrix of All That Is.

Carl Jung called all circular images a "mandala." It is one of the most important dream symbols which represent the psychic center of personality. It is symbolic of wholeness, completeness and unity of the self.

Running in circles, I run away from and to myself, over and over again. At times, I see shadows of myself--tracers, moving along side or coming toward me. Mostly, I move out of the way of myself...past, present, and future.

My prayer is simple, and that is that I "BE."

BEING is a prerequisite to the great, "I AM."

So much of BEING involves nothingness, which brings about what Jean Paul Sartre called "fear and trembling."

I run through the nothingness. Sometimes I tremble, but mostly I give thanks for the empty spaces--the in between...those fluid, transient spaces. Integration is not easy in those places, and the urge to run faster will take over one's mind and body. Fortunately, I could only crawl through the fluid spaces these past months. It gave me time to get lost and time to find a valid way home.

There was time to say goodbye to my failures and to realize that some failures will forever haunt me. This is acceptable, so long as the haunting does not cause me to cease moving on the path.

My running legs have slowly returned. I understand my circle dreams now, more than ever. There is comfort in knowing that I am going "somewhere" when I run in circles. I will know where I am when I arrive. Until then, I will enjoy the run, for whatever it is worth.

Because I could not stop for Death
by Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death —
He kindly stopped for me —
The Carriage held but just Ourselves —
And Immortality.

We slowly drove — He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility —

We passed the School,
where Children strove
At Recess — in the Ring —
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain —
We passed the Setting Sun —

Or rather — He passed Us —
The Dews drew quivering and chill —
For only Gossamer, my Gown —
My Tippet — only Tulle —

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground —
The Roof was scarcely visible —
The Cornice — in the Ground —

Since then — 'tis Centuries — and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity —

CIRCLE DREAM
by 10000 Maniacs

I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
And in that circle I had made were all the worlds unformed and unborn yet.
A volume, a sphere that was the earth, that was the moon, that did revolve around my room.

I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
And in that circle was a maze, a terrible spiral to be lost in.
Blind in my fear, I was escaping just by feel.
But at every turn my way was sealed.

I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.
And in that circle was a face.
Her eyes looked upon me with fondness.
Her warmth coming near, calling me "sweetness," calling me "dear."
But I whispered, "no, I can't rest here."

I dreamed of a circle, I dreamed of a circle round.