Letters by Coeur:
The Coeurency of Dreaming
Volume I | Issue II | Letter III | Autumn MMXXV | words: Sarah Woods
I sat with my friend who inspired the Rolling Stone’s song, She’s a Rainbow. Her colours speak through her hands. Bringing to life her heart through prints that paint a story of truth under the stars of Bubion. A mastering of the moment, beyond the mind, that ought to be cherished before pursuing the material endeavours of life. After all, the coeurency of dreaming facilitates the most magnificent creations.
Remembering.
My friend has never forgotten how to dream. Though, so many have. Distracted by gossip, manipulative global drama unfolding, or simply too busy surviving, the true gold of these times is often overlooked until one remembers it’s who they actually came here to be.
…the courency of dreaming. A golden essence of truth that fuels making love real on the planet.
I’m talking about the coeurency of dreaming. A golden essence of truth that fuels making love real on the planet. The stories, the creations, the leadership, that actually lands in people’s hearts and evokes positive movement forward. This coeurency of dreaming is making a comeback. Or maybe the collective is finally getting out of their own way and harnessing this nourishment of what it actually means to be human. An impossible divorce for those who know they came here for these times. Those who came here to lead, no matter how messy life gets, can’t lose touch with who they really are.
I sat with my friend on her porch. With coffee in one hand and rolling a smoke in the other, she listened to me debrief my weekend of creation.
I sat with my friend on her porch. With coffee in one hand and rolling a smoke in the other, she listened to me as I debriefed my weekend of creation. She knew I was in a stretch of stuck the previous week, but I embraced her with a smile and a story of being unlocked in the heat of the moment. Delighted, she leaned in as I shared how I said yes at midnight, and I chose to dance. Unlocking more of my path, and the movement of my creation. Not because attending an annual fiesta in a neighbouring village was connected to my study or career, but because the spark of spontaneity fed by a simple choice, the synchronization of my body and heart, opened a space within me to shine.
The true romance of life.
….because the spark of spontaneity fed by a simple choice, the synchronization of my body and heart, opened a space within me to shine. The true romance of life.
I danced. I danced with a shepherd until 8am. Embraced by his masculinity and protection, the universe cared for me in my deepening of heart. The next day, I created.
My neighbour and I often revel in the magic of Las Alpujarras. Exchanging thoughts and reflections, swear words and naughty stories. In a seemingly slow village, we’ve written one hell of a story that no one will read, because we’re too busy leading it, to write it.
And, when our heart connects are complete, we return to our respective work spaces to create. Colliding the next day, or when we step out of flow, to unravel the noise that’s captured our minds so we can let go and return to creation.
A few days later, my friend was sitting on her porch unravelling her own writer’s block. Returning from an outing in colour, cherry-red lips, matching nails and a rainbow bouquet of flowers, I sat down with her.
“Oh honey, where have you been?”
A beautiful miscommunication that only my heart was clear about orchestrating.
It was one of the moments of magic, which, at this point, I should just call my life. A beautiful miscommunication that only my heart was clear about orchestrating. I told her the story…
My friend asked me to meet him in his garden in late afternoon for a beer. While the timing felt off for happy hour, I trusted the kiss of heart I felt, and agreed. I walked up the ancient streets of Bubion with the beat of the sun on me and my freshly washed hair flattened.
“Sarita, you are so beautiful! Are you sure you want to pick cherries in the campo dressed so nice?”
I laughed at his mountain accent, and my ever-evolving relationship with the Spanish language. Cherry (cereza) and beer (cerveza) in Spanish, can sound so similar.
We laughed. I marched up the hill in the heat of the Spanish summer afternoon, city pretty, mountain fit, to… pick cherries. That’s the moment of heart that matters. The coeurency that fuels creations, life, and relationships, from a place of purity.
My friend looked up in delight at my story, it awakened her from the stir of her own mind. She had been forcing words to page, frozen in other times.
My friend looked up in delight at my story, it awakened her from the stir of her own mind. She had been forcing words to page, frozen in other times. The magic of those experiences unwilling to shine through her writing, because that was far too linear for someone who’s brighter than a rainbow. For a moment, she thought the words were important, not realizing the magic she is naturally when she communicates in colour. Painting a picture of my beautiful mistake, my neighbour was unlocked through the loud vision of a rainbow that reminded her of who she really is.
Pure love.
The technology of heart, the dream, really is in the moment. It IS life. In the choice. It’s not a plan or a strategy, but a language of love that reveals itself when one remembers who they truly are.
###
Volume I | Issue II | Autumn MMXXV
Letter II | The Fall of the Guru. The Rise of the Charlatan. The Return of Collaboration.
Letter IV | The Temptation to Outsource: Risking the Human Heart
About Letters by Coeur
Letters by Coeur is a seasonal publication where setting aside time for beneficial reading, is a pleasure. Reimagining the art of correspondence, each letter holds a transfiguration in itself.