A dream about lineage (from the early days)

[Guest guest]

It is early in the morning and I have the feeling of heat on my chest

covering my sternum. I am still dozing, half between sleep and

wakefulness. I see an image of a large reddish black lacquer stroke on

a yellow sandstone wall which is the same size and shape as the heat on

my chest. The image on the wall and the heat on my chest are connected,

are in fact the same. I hear the words; every stroke, every letter,

every word, every sentence, every page, every volume, as I see that the

stroke is now part of a letter, Hebrew in appearance, which is now part

of a word and now part of a line and now more lines and even more and

more lines that keep multiplying reaching back to a beginning beyond

where my eyes can see.

[Guest guest]

How do you feel the letter to be for you Bret? How does a tree of life feel to

you? - blessings and more - chrism

 

Bret Arenson <bretarenson wrote: It is early in the morning and I have

the feeling of heat on my chest

covering my sternum. I am still dozing, half between sleep and

wakefulness. I see an image of a large reddish black lacquer stroke on

a yellow sandstone wall which is the same size and shape as the heat on

my chest. The image on the wall and the heat on my chest are connected,

are in fact the same. I hear the words; every stroke, every letter,

every word, every sentence, every page, every volume, as I see that the

stroke is now part of a letter, Hebrew in appearance, which is now part

of a word and now part of a line and now more lines and even more and

more lines that keep multiplying reaching back to a beginning beyond

where my eyes can see.

 

 

 

[Guest guest]

The stroke was blazoned on my chest, like a branding. I was physically

connected to a tradition of writing. I noticed a tension in my chest

when I first started drawing which I think was a contraction of the

muscles which I do not have now as I try more to relax more fully.

Regardless this was an artifact of the occurrence. The act of automatic

ecstatic drawing or writing (there is not a distinction for me) had a

strong physical aspect to it. In this way it reminded me of alchemy;

the act of writing, the body that writes, the thing produced from the

act and what is being written about, are all closely tied, are all

direct aspects of the other. That brand was one stoke in a very long

tradition of mystic writing, one mystery held in a burning chest of a

history of burning chests, all linked in a physical and spiritual way

to a mystery whose reaches are also shrouded in mystery. Or was that

apparent.

 

The tree of life I see as the giver of all. The tree that gives itself.

All is given in all its forms. All are gifts. But who is the recipient?

We are grateful but there is no recipient. We are grateful because we

are the gifts.

 

I also see the tree of life I see as the eternal return. There is a

recipient, the gift that consumes the gift so the gift can be given

again. We are given to be eaten. Is the symbol of the snake chewing his

tail an appropriate addition? But this has all been known for

millennia.

 

I guess I had nothing to add.

 

Bret

 

 

On Jan 20, 2006, at 6:40 PM, chrism wrote:

 

> How do you feel the letter to be for you Bret? How does a tree of life

> feel to you? - blessings and more - chrism

>

> Bret Arenson <bretarenson wrote: It is early in the morning

> and I have the feeling of heat on my chest

> covering my sternum. I am still dozing, half between sleep and

> wakefulness. I see an image of a large reddish black lacquer stroke on

> a yellow sandstone wall which is the same size and shape as the heat on

> my chest. The image on the wall and the heat on my chest are connected,

> are in fact the same. I hear the words; every stroke, every letter,

> every word, every sentence, every page, every volume, as I see that the

> stroke is now part of a letter, Hebrew in appearance, which is now part

> of a word and now part of a line and now more lines and even more and

> more lines that keep multiplying reaching back to a beginning beyond

> where my eyes can see.

>

>

>

>