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at least I’m dreaming again.

I dreamt last night of faith-leaders being overturned by a coming Aboriginal-led resistance, rising up. Of an ex-vangelical mega-church pastor being turned into a youth-movement-leading prophet, raising up a generation to reclaim their voices. Of dirt bike accidents and flying polar bears.

When I awoke, blinking into the autumn blackness, I wandered downstairs alone, before kids awoke, to write down those absurd dreams.

This morning chores finished and led me to discovering that the Flaming Lips made the Beatles weird again. They also did a TinyDesk in bubbles. The music hit me like a unicorn/rainbow/wizard burst radiating out of my chest.

The day was as full as a filing cabinet in a 1970s law firm. I bustled and hustled, until at the end of the day, I was the fallen faith leader, overturned by my own inner resistance.

How can we lead people through the change to come, when they crave normalcy?

Are we here to tend to the religiously obsessed, or the righteously oppressed?

How can we be awake to the revolution if we cannot even stay awake?

My friends are truly haunted by the plagues inside and out, of inner anxiety and external threats. Do we simply sign off and return to daily normal? What is normal?

“Try not to go numb to the possibilities around you.” But the possibilities hum with the threat of revolution, the intensity of attentiveness, the magnetic draw to collapse into rest. Can I not simply throw myself to that mattress, please?

Who will help us see the true pain and darkness we can no longer look away from? Who will hold us, nurture us, heal us as we confront that pain? Who will inspire us to turn to each other as co-creators of a better world, healing from pain, stepping into possibility? Who will give voice to the possibility of love-based systems?

Isn’t that my very heartbeat? The very world of I’m dreaming of?

But when I’m dreaming, I’m asleep.

When I’m awake, I’m busy.

After I’m busy, I’m exhausted.

When I’m exhausted, I need sleep.

But then at least I’m dreaming again.

O! Quiet stream of the universe, I’m going to sleep again. Wake me when the world’s consciousness is ready to meet me with a package consisting of RedBull and a three-month paid sabbatical, childcare included, a book deal and an agent, and encouraging, kind friends, insanely talented collaborators to learn from, and a readiness to form a project that will lift the people of the world up, together, to together create a new world.

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