In the beginning was the dream...
In the eternal night where no dawn broke, the dream deepened.
Before anything ever was, it had to be dreamed... Every single
thing is somehow the expression and incarnation of thought.
In the eternal night where no dawn broke, the dream deepened.
Before anything ever was, it had to be dreamed... Every single
thing is somehow the expression and incarnation of thought.
If we take Nature as the great artist of longing, then all presences
in the world have emerged from Her mind and imagination. We
are children of the Earth's dreams. It's almost as if Nature is in
dream and we are her children who have broken through the dawn
into time and place. Fashioned in the dreaming of the clay, we
are always somehow haunted by that, we are unable ever finally
to decide what is dream and what is reality. Each day we live in
what we call reality, yet life seems to resemble a dream. We rush
through our days in such stress and intensity, as if we were here to
stay and the serious project of the world depended on us. We
worry and grow anxious - we magnify trivia until they become
important enough to control our lives. Yet all the time, we have
forgotten that we are but temporary sojourners on the surface of
a strange planet spinning slowly in the infinite night of the cosmos.
in the world have emerged from Her mind and imagination. We
are children of the Earth's dreams. It's almost as if Nature is in
dream and we are her children who have broken through the dawn
into time and place. Fashioned in the dreaming of the clay, we
are always somehow haunted by that, we are unable ever finally
to decide what is dream and what is reality. Each day we live in
what we call reality, yet life seems to resemble a dream. We rush
through our days in such stress and intensity, as if we were here to
stay and the serious project of the world depended on us. We
worry and grow anxious - we magnify trivia until they become
important enough to control our lives. Yet all the time, we have
forgotten that we are but temporary sojourners on the surface of
a strange planet spinning slowly in the infinite night of the cosmos.
There is no definitive dividing line between reality and dream.
What we consider real is often precariously dream-like. And
even our grip on reality is tenuous...
What we consider real is often precariously dream-like. And
even our grip on reality is tenuous...
John O'Donohue
From: Eternal Echoes
From: Eternal Echoes
Photo from the Internet