Ballooning spirits

A dream.

Everyone was excited. A big, bright, hot-air balloon had just arrived and it’s magical presence hovered above us all… waiting.   

I watched. People seemed to know just what to do and they were hurrying attaching large seeds to small coloured, helium balloons and releasing them.  The balloonists above quickly gathered them in.    

Then the scene changed and I was standing, holding a bunch of memorial flowers.  I looked around, unsure what to do and I saw that others were carefully laying similar flowers onto a double conveyer belt. In the fingers of my left hand I held a yellow daffodil.  I considered it and then began to examine some of the other things I had been holding to my chest. The first one, was some kind of floral wreath, it seemed to be made of dried up old forget-me-nots that fell apart in my hands.   A good friend who was standing beside me told me that I when I laid the flowers on the conveyer belt I was to ‘name' each flower when I set it down. These flowers were also being taken up and loaded into the balloon.  

The atmosphere was charged.  

The balloon was ready to take off and ballooning spirits sent it on it’s way! 

- end of dream. 

We all have our personal memorials…  memories that have shaped us, things that we hold close to our hearts, disappointment, loss, those “I’ll never let that happen to me or hurt me that way again” moments.  

In the starry expanse of my life what if I could legitimately start fresh?  

What if I could plant each black hole moment of my mind with a seed, a hope for a different experience ?     

I wonder if this replanting might loosen some of those old expectations so that the next time those old shadows fall on my path I won’t step backwards into fear but will dare to expect a surprising, a good, a better outcome?  

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