Writing my way through the A-to-Z blogging challenge, I’ve tasked myself with throwing open the cabinet of curiosities and wondrous things I call my brain and leading you on a tour of what actually resides in there – all through the lens of unusual, obscure, or simply charming-to-me words.
C is for…
conspicio – is a Latin verb meaning watch, look at, gaze, stare; notice, catch sight of.
I have always had a most interesting and entertaining dream life, and yet over the last year it has hurdled itself into entirely new realms of fabulousness. These nights I often catch a glimpse of me as another iteration of me, and it is a most curious and fascinating thing. It’s as though I’m seeing myself in past and future lives, allowing myself to see more of what I have access to than what I seem to be carrying in this life.
In one of the earliest of this type of dream, I was speaking what I recognized to be Latin. I awoke with a great curiosity.
My husband had a classical education and his knowledge of Latin and Greek far exceed mine. In truth ANY knowledge of those languages exceeds my quite pedestrian early education. Still when I was thinking about this dream, somehow I was led to rabbit-hole myself into looking into Latin words and found the treasure of conspicio.
These dream “witnessings” likely have as many feasible explanations as there are readers reading this, and I think that’s as it should be. I believe we are all sovereign and it is up to us to choose what understandings we take from things, and how we use them to interact with our worlds.
I have always believed dreams are much more than random firing of brain synapses sorting through the waking days flotsam and jetsom, a belief many people hold. I genuinely delight in the endless array of gifts that arrive during sleep time. The messages, conundrums, puns, puzzles, wacky characters, visits from beloveds no longer in this world; the fantastic, the improbable, the mystical, the ordinary, the skewed, the recurring, the sublime. The lucid experiences, the flying adventures, the mutual dreams. I delight in my dream ability to sing and dance in ways I don’t seem to be able to replicate in my waking states; and dreams show me things that are luminescent. Dreams help me open to receive messages that my waking consciousness isn’t quite able to hold. They inspired me. They help me know myself more fully. They delight me with the joy of learning this soul language, and the fact that they’re always adding new words to the vocabulary and then demanding I write my own definitions, because after all, we both know the only dream dictionary worth using is the one we write ourselves. Dreams have given me a deep and sacred practice that I’ve been exploring since I was a child; given me fodder for countless journals; piqued my curiosity about countless things, and led me to deep connections with other dreams. They given me laughter; and bizarre and astonishing images that I rush to capture sketches of so I won’t forget. Dreams are magical, and never stop sending me these secret messages; these nightly tickets to the best theatre ever; treats I enjoy as they are unfolding and then again when I consider them upon wakening. Dreams challenge us to know ourselves better. They invite us to learn a richly expressive, oh-so-beautiful private language. They invite us to remember, in the most simple way, that we are so much more than we often experience ourselves as in our often-limited vision of ourselves.
I believe there are private dreams, and there are dreams we dream for the collective, but no matter which, I am love this quote by Marsha Norman:
“Dreams are illustrations…from the book your soul is writing about you.”
Now that you know how conspicio came to me, and what I’m looking at in my dreams, here’s something else I’ve been gazing at today.
It’s a lovely little piece of lepidolite with rubellite. Somehow every year at the beginning of Spring it calls out to me and I spend some time with it. While this is a polished stone, I also have a rough unpolished one, and they are both dear friends. There’s no mistaking their lithium-based sweetness. They make me think of Spring and all it’s promise, and the bits of rubellite remind me of new shoots first emerging from the ground. I’m always reminded of the pure magic of Spring-time growth – how things so fragile have such enormous potential.
What about you? Conspicio means gaze, notice, watch. I’m keeping my eyes open for magic everywhere. What’s got your attention? Do tell – you know I love to hear.