I have and remember the best dreams that come just before waking.
This morning, I dreamed of planting a spiralling grove of ginkgo trees… starting at the center and spiralling outwards, adding a new sapling every year. I got to thinking how far apart they should go to have room to grow, though eventually, to grow side by side so close, they’d make a wall around a center. In the center, there would be a pond, spring-fed, and a place to sit in comfort.
It would all be set in a low place among hills, protected from winds and lightnings. It would be a work of lifetimes, ever growing outward… From a distance, it would appear perhaps, a low mountain in the midst of the surrounding land.
Next time I sit to meditate, I will close my eyes, and go there.
I’ll walk the ginkgo spiral, however long it is,
leaving behind the commotion
and complaining of the world at large,
replacing uproar with the rustle of the leaves
stirred by warm and easy breezes,
and smell the dusty scent of the leaves…
At the center, finally, after however long a walk I need,
the ginkgos growing taller, closer pace by pace,
first a fence, then finally at the center a wall…
I will hear the gently moving waters in the pool…
feel the warmth of the air as I sit quietly,
and listen to the birds in the trees… no doubt doves!
And every now and then, a tui’s peculiar bubbling call…
What would be your own quiet inner place? How does it feel? What scents and sounds are in it?