Hair-pulling Stars

From the time I was a child, I would go outside alone at night to listen to the stars. Although some may have considered it odd, no one ever denied that the stars sang. Somewhere along the line, I simply stopped telling people why I was wandering alone in the dark staring up. It was becoming a common practice for many people. Enough so that people stopped questioning it. When sitting with a friend in a hot tub late one night, I shared with that I was listening to the stars sing. She sat quietly for several minutes, looking up at the stars. Eventually, she asked how she could learn to hear the stars. It was only then that I realized the stars didn't sing for everyone.

When I read this quote from Anais Nin, it brought those memories quickly to mind. Its words reverberate in a language I recognize. I'm restless. That's so very true. It's a restlessness born from the wild calling of the stars. I feel closed up after a time of being inside. Like a bud reaching for the light so it can to bloom. Things are calling me away.

The line that nearly brought me to tears was the final one. My hair is being pulled by the stars again. I love the terminology, the imagery. I can see the hair-pulling stars. When I wander outside, it is almost always at night. I am forever looking up, taking pictures of the moon, watching the planets gather and pass. For me, it's not my hair being pulled. It's the call of the stars and the planets echoing in my ears. It's my personal symphony; my music of the spheres.

What part or parts of nature call to you? How does that call happen? What sense experiences it? How do you respond? What happens if you don't?

Leaving Stars

Images of the night sky always rumble deep within my being ~ as though the night time releases me to purr. Top that incredible sensation with Victor Hugo's insight that stars remain within when I open to the night ~ my innards unsure whether to implode or explode.

The brightness of the stars within the dark create imaginative heat when their light touches us. Yet we know that what appears to us in the night sky is an echo of what was and, despite what flickers before our eyes, is now darkness and cold.

And yet.... and yet.... we continue to wish on the stars, to look to them for answers, to place our hope in them. They remind us of both our fleeting presence and our quest for immortality.

I've always loved the night time. Velvet darkness surrounding me. Sounding silence penetrating my soul. Time standing still. Since earliest childhood, I've found myself deep within its solitude.

Hugo's insight hums within me. I've felt, as continue to feel, the pull of the stardust at my core as it brands me a Sister of Night. Tattoos star trails on my soul. Serenades my being with star song.

What do you think of the night? How does it affect you? Do you feel night within you? Can you feel the stars left within you? What time of day speaks most loudly to you? Why?

Dream by Day

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.

~ Edgar Allan Poe

Dreaming by day gives an advantage to the dreamer. Light creates a different visibility and with that comes a different awareness. When I dream by day, by choice, I engage more directly in the process. There remains choice.

Dreaming by day is not daydreaming. It's giving space to the creative voice within, allowing for growth and new vision. It's opening to another level of awareness and letting it flow through, to be seen, known, embraced.

One reason things escape those dreaming by night is choosing unawareness, letting the newly awakened thoughts take over so the dream escapes consciousness. It takes practice to silence the mind's chatter enough to recall the dream. When that happens, both day and night dreaming become equal in imagination and thought. That's a good place to be.

Do you recall your night dreams? Do you allow time for your daytime dreaming? How does dreaming differ? Which do you prefer?