Waking to the Melting of Frost / by Loren Wheeler

I wake and the memory of dreams lingers, i stoke the fire, cut wood, kiss her on the cheek as she moans a deep moan and feels warm and sleepy. I feel the cold air on my skin as i step into the new day outside, see the frost on everything, hear the faint sound of geese flying and calling, moving south. the light is angular; it slices across the valley and lights the crest of the opposite hills; an orange glow can be seen slowly descending the hillside, creeping down, then into the trees that line Whiskey Creek, then slowly across the meadow. The warmth of the sun leaves a receding line of frost in the grass; on the opposite sides of trees, the shade offers cool protection to the ice, from the warmth of the sunlight glow.

I awake and feel great change, particularly more every day, in unique ways, the tarot cards I draw, the way I look into faces and see added depth, the way each moment of living feels sacred, the sense of a great work being created by all of my devotion to the one love. I feel great potential for and vision into the reality of higher education… a master’s degree, in-depth studies, taking all this potential energy to learn and grow and applying it in a deep and focused way. Becoming a scholar. I have been resistant to the structures of education and now see that I am able to use the confines of the form to my and everyone else’s advantage and benefit. Learning and teaching about the world. I see myself as a university professor, as a guest lecturer, as a commencement speaker, as a wise man on the fringes of the town, the culture, I see myself transmitting knowledge and mentoring.

I am aware of the many skills I have acquired over the last ten years or so, since I first stepped into college and away from my hometown, Eugene, Oregon. Opera performance, vocal jazz, aquatic toxicology, music and consciousness … and those indescribable skills, or rather the very soil of my being, cultivated and nourished within some kind of heart-pouring of compost tea to the soil of my own undergrowth. The fostering of a peace within. The centering in my own body suit so as to fully look others in the eye and reveal my inner landscape exactly as it appears to me. The deep longing, after years of shedding, to create works of deep and immense beauty, truth, transparency, dancing with the muse cheek-to-cheek as i surrender my resistant ego to the call of the One Flow that moves through me.

Everything seems to pour from it and into it  … it is this ever-changing force, which effects me and moves through me, which I can see as a constant stream of information in the form of feeling, a great blue-green river in which i swim energetically, or rather a sea, because it’s easy in a way to imagine that the very air is this sea and I am always existing in it. Like air, I need it to survive! I am intrinsically linked with its existence: it can live without me but not i without it. Eating, sleeping, dancing, breathing, loving, laughing, crying, all within this ocean of experience. I could also just call it feeling, without mentioning anything outside myself (a sea, the air). I feel strong surges of powerful emotions come into me, take me over, jolt me awake in the night to sit up writing dreams and visions of days to come. I feel the longing to peel off these layers which seem to keep me contained, these invisible coverings and maskings around my body, mind, spirit, heart, emotions, to be open and flexible and to feel everything more. I long to feel more. Even with the pain and the heartache and the disappointments and the breaches of trust, I want to feel more, love more, desire more, live more, go further, dive deeper.

“what are these lives and where are they leading?
what are these minds and what are they figuring?
rising, capsizing, dividing, resolving, unhinging, synthesizing in this synergy”
-loren