Where Miracles Arise

Today is a calmer day after the "shadows" and the "citrino."  So I'm thinking about everyday pleasures, like sitting in a swing in the open air.

"The place where light and dark meet," according to Robert Johnson, "is where miracles arise."

Light and dark certainly meet in the light coming through the wicker swing, in the light filtering through the trees onto the lawn,  and in my own psyche.

Those dark shadows of Monday and the bright yellow light of the citrino yesterday have given way to  images arising in my psyche, mostly in dreams.

In one dream, a tall, dark and handsome man, dressed impeccably in Italian slacks, shirt, and shoes is talking to a group of people I perceive as "my family."
I come around the corner and take his hand, and we walk off together.  He looks down at me, with an impish smile, and says, "Let's go make ourselves happy."

And we did that -- I think -- but not in the dream as it ended on that note.

I love when dreams end like that and let you play out the rest in your head with as many different endings as you want!  And then the miracles can arise endlessly, and they have for me with this one image.