The Stories Dream Catchers Weave: Chapter 14 Dreaming the Weather 

The Stories Dream Catchers Weave: Chapter 14 Dreaming the Weather 

"He wants to modify the weather for Saturday and Sunday." 

"This is a power that is available to him.  What is the problem?" 

"Well, although we had the weather systems lined up to pass through the area this weekend, we could push them back to the horizon on Saturday." 

"And on Sunday?" 

"We are planning a special surprise.  On Saturday we will have him discover a perfectly heart-shaped stone at the shore of Lake Superior which we believe he will interpret as sign of love from Mother Earth.  And he will discover love in the bite of an apple." 

"That's a refreshing irony.  Yes, go on." 

"On Sunday we need  a gentle rain to fill a special depression in the rock at the lake shore near a river.  Properly filled it forms another perfect heart.  It should be a wonderful gift." 

"Go ahead with your plans for rain on Sunday.  He will know that his experiment with changing the weather was successful on Saturday.  He will wonder what happened on Sunday, but he'll figure it out when he discovers the heart in the rock." 

When I was a pre-teenager I read the Bible in its entirety, mostly with a flashlight, under my covers in bed, because my parents wanted us to be sleeping after nine o'clock.  And I continued to go back to it time after time to check on one thing and another.  On winter Sundays when the rural roads were clogged with snow, I would even sit my brother and sister down in front of me as I read passages from the Bible and staged a church service.  So I became quite aware of the sayings of Jesus, especially John 14:12 in which Jesus, about to ascend into heaven said to his disciples, "I tell you most solemnly, whoever believes in me and the way I have showed you shall do all the things I have done and even greater for now I go to my father."  That was quite a mystery to me.  My parents, my teachers, the preacher never seemed to notice that there was a door open to a realm beyond limitation.  Actually, they acted as though there was no such door and even beckoned us, the children, to look away to another direction, to believe in the world of limitation they had come to accept.  To them the kingdom of God was up there, out there, somewhere far away and inaccessible, at least for now.  Yet I read the words of Jesus that "the Kingdom of God is within you."  I never heard a sermon on that text. 

As I grew up I was generally very polite, and yet I had my own thoughts and held my own counsel.  I would decide for myself what was true and jettison whatever did not have the belltone of truth. I was a bit of a hellion as a teenager, but I never did anything to really hurt anyone.  Dumb kid-stuff that was probably not wise but seemed to be a fun idea at the time.  I drove my car through the ditches and woods, drove with the lights out to escape from the car we had just water bombed, ran my mother's slip up the post office flag pole, brewed dandelion wine in a crock in the hayloft, left a road-kill skunk on the front porch of the town constable, "spun donuts" with my car on the icy streets--playful mischief that bordered on the stupid.  But I learned how to work the system and was the valedictorian of my class, lettered in football, dated a cute sophmore cheerleader, excelled in the Lutheran catechism, won a small scholarship to college, graduated from college summa cum laude, met a pretty farm girl on a hay ride (who I eventually married ), and got my first teaching job.  I struggled with the discrepancy between the words of Jesus and the way the world seemed to be doing things. 

Most contradictory of the many things I questioned seemed to be Christian violence, Christians at war, especially with each other.  It seemed to be out of step with what I had read.  By the time our children had grown up I was moving rapidly away from the view of the world my parents, uncles, aunts, grandparents, pastors, and teachers had instilled in me, the world-view my wife and I had shared when we met.  There was a reluctance to let go of all that had held me in the societal safety net, but eventually I let go of my teaching career, my marriage, and began the search for the door I had turned away from as a child.   

In order to live freely
and happily
you must sacrifice
boredom.
It is not always
an easy sacrifice.
Richard Bach, Illusions

I met many people along the way who helped me rediscover the realm that had been within my reach so many years ago.  One of these messengers was a fiery, intuitive psychotherapist from Chicago who told me that among many experiences in her life she had modified the weather, once redirecting the path of a tornado to save her and her daughter from disaster.  I had already let go of much of my scientific skepticism in favor of an easy going acceptance of the possibility of all things. Why not? 

Cage 

I lived a reasoned, cautious life,
my heart was in a cage.
Each tick was measured on my clock
to censor passion's rage. 

I learned my prudent, jailer's role
at church, at home, at school
to be the watchdog of my soul
lest esctasy should rule. 

Now comes this strange, unruled way,
throws open life's door
and says come out and play with me
even butterflies are free.
To live
and love,
to be alive
to all the good in me,
to find mySelf in open other
is Creator's gift to Be.
allen aslan heart 

On Memorial Day weekend in 1995 "The Blessed Ones" decided to do a workshop along the North Shore of Lake Superior.  Since it had been a chilly, wet spring in northern Minnesota the prospect of spending a weekend outside was daunting.  On our way to find camping locations for the group, I called fervently for warm and sunny weather.  Skies were overcast and the wind was chill and damp--until sunrise Saturday morning.  The clouds parted and moved back to the horizon leaving the vault of the sky clear and sunny.  It was awesome to watch it happen.   

During the day I discovered a perfectly shaped heart stone along the rocky shore south of Silver Bay.  It almost looked as if it was bought in a store it was so perfect.  I felt that I had been given a great gift of love from Mother Earth.  Yet when I showed it to the leader of the group she asked, "Is this for me?"  "No," I said, "I think it was meant for me."  She turned and walked away without further comment.  Later that day I took a bite out of my apple and discovered another heart in the outline of the bite. 

That night as we slept in the vans the weather turned chilly,  cloudy, and rainy.  I was puzzled Sunday morning at the change in the weather.  After all, hadn't I asked that it be sunny and warm for both Saturday and Sunday?  It wasn't too unpleasant, however, since we spent most of the day in the caravan heading to the amethyst mines east of Thunderbay in Canada.  We stopped a few places along the way and at the Temperance River we assembled to do a memorial ceremony for the husband of one of the group whose ashes had been scattered there.  Waiting for everyone to arrive I walked around on the large boulders at water's edge.  I was stunned to see a depression in the rock that had filled with water to form a perfect heart!  Once again, a gift of love from Mother Earth!  I knew that I was being watched over and protected by loving spirit--the Great Mystery Within. 

"He's at it again.  He wants another clear, sunny, and warm weekend.  Only this time he wants it to be pleasant for hundreds of miles around!" 

"Well, at least he isn't cowed by limitations!  He seems to know that all things are possible.  It's a big order.  Has he prepared sacred space to generate and hold the energy that is needed?" 

"Yes, and he has friends who can help him this time." 

Later that summer the owner of the farm decided to sponsor a fundraiser for the Tibetan monks.  We began an intense program of preparation--arranging publicity, booking volunteer entertainers, clearing and mowing grounds, repairing fences, finding food vendors, building an outdoor stage, ordering portable toilets. 

On the day before the event I noticed that the sky was becoming overcast.  I asked the owner of the farm if she or anyone else had made provisions for good weather.  She hadn't thought of it, she said.  So I gathered five or six of my friends and an armful of drums and rattles and walked down to "my" house on the farm.  It had been carefully cleaned and decorated to be a "power point."  Angel paintings hung on the wall.  The Tibetan monks had prayed and chanted there only three weeks before.  Sage bundles and other sacred objects dotted the living space.  On the road to "my" house the workers I was supervising asked what we were doing.  I told him that we were going to make sure that the weather during the event would be pleasant.  "That's good", he said, "'cuz on the radio they're sayin' it's gonna rain tomorrow and Sunday." 

We did a sage ceremony and I prayed to the Seven Directions, and I asked for partly sunny skies, temperatures in the low 80's, and a light breeze from the west.  The weather had to be pleasant 300 miles away so that when people looked out in the morning they would decide that it would be a beautiful day to attend the outdoor fund-raising event.  Then we drummed and rattled, toned and sang for nearly an hour with great intensity.  Saturday morning the sky was almost clear with a few clouds to keep it comfortable.  The temperature peaked at about 84 degrees and a light breeze from the west prevented stagnant, mosquito-ridden air near the woods on the south edge of the festival grounds.. 

Sunday morning the sky was overcast and a few drops of rain were carried on the light breeze.  Walking up to the main house with a friend we discussed the change in the weather.  Then I noticed that someone had moved some of the angel paintings from "my" house.  I asked that the paintings be returned to their original place.  Soon the sky began to clear and we enjoyed a repeat performance of  Saturday.   

The spirals danced. 

Unfortunately, the woman who organized the event left the proceeds in a satchel in the back of the truck when she took a visitor to the train station and thousands of dollars blew away into the ditches and fields along the way.  She told us not to tell her husband. 

The spirals laughed.

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