How a young girl reminded me about the truth of dreams, reality, and love.

How a young girl reminded me about the truth of dreams, reality, and love.

Posted by on Oct 4, 2013 in Indiegogo, Stories | 0 comments

Today, I want to tell you a story. It’s a story about yearning, dreaming, making, shamanic journeying, and love. Because, without love, why bother?

Once there was a little girl who was a maker. Her interests were deep and wide. She painted, she wrote, she put on plays. Entrepreneurially-minded, she offered neighborhood face-painting events, toy-box “garage” sales, and homemade carnivals.

She looked for any excuse to make. And make BIG. She could have settled for crayons and markers; instead she made rocket ships out of old refrigerator boxes and built haunted houses with giant spiders and fake cemeteries. She could have written short stories; instead she wrote novel-length sequels to her favorite film. She could have put together a little web page with a few links to the things she loved; instead, she created a massive, community web site with contests and fiction repositories and message boards.

As she grew, the little girl’s dreams grew, too. Unfortunately, so did her awareness of messages that said, “You are not allowed to explore your curiosity for too long. Settle down. Do something serious with your life. Let reality—not your dreams—guide you.”

It’s a common story. Convinced that dreaming—especially dreaming big—gets us into trouble, we marginalize our childlike wonder. We heartlessly niche it down, file it to a point, and forget the excitement and enthusiasm that led us along that path in the first place. We confuse laser focus with inauthentic limits.

Unless, eventually, like this little/big girl, we snap out of it and remember that dreaming—creating from our dreams—is the whole point of living. That we get to choose what to believe about our lives. That reality will follow suit.

Of course, I am that little/big girl. And for me, Tarot was the door that led back into the shamanic dreaming of my own life. Instead of letting others dream me, I began to dream myself once again. Instead of letting the messages about “reality” limit me—with Tarot’s insight and support, in time—I gave myself permission to dream up something huge. A Tarot deck! And not just any Tarot deck—but a full scale, theatrical production of a Tarot deck. I dreamed of hiring “actors” for each piece. Of creating magnificent sets. Of using my wonderful city as the backdrop to tell the story of Tarot in the way I most craved.

I dreamed, and the manifestation of my dreaming is The Portland Tarot. Beautiful, powerful, and in-process. A dream I can hold in my hands. A dream I can share.

If you’re a dreamer, claim the dream that beckons you. Life is here for us to dream it and create it. Perhaps your dreams have dimmed. Perhaps the “message” has eclipsed them. Don’t lose hope. One day, like me, you might just wake up and realize you are willing to take the leap to be the big kid you always dreamed you’d be.

“Wake up from adulthood and become the big kid you always dreamed you’d be. Make space for curiosity!”Tweet this!

And if you need a friendly guide along the way, check out the pre-sale campaign for The Portland Tarot Deck. We have 7 days left to get the full funding. It would be truly wonderful if my dream can help your dream become reality.

If you know other dreamers who would like this deck, please share it with them. Here is the page where you can find a way to pre-order the deck, among many other delightful perks:

May your reality reflect the beauty of your dreams!

Yours in gratitude and dreaming,

This is me in high school, at a summer art event in Idylwild, CA. I am proudly showing off my homemade jewelry and t-shirt with my own Bilbo Baggins artwork on the front. Plus big glasses, you know, so I could see all those dreams more clearly…

P.S. My favorite film as a young lass was Labyrinth. David Bowie as the Goblin King? Yes, please, and thank you.

P.P.S. My mother was pretty awesome for bringing home those refrigerator boxes. She also helped with the giant spiders and cemetery for the Halloween party. And my dad jumped out of the coffin, too. No haunted house worth its salt is a solo operation, after all.