By Debra Basham, on June 28, 2013
I have been giving a lot of thought to meditation, and this week I had a wonderful meditative experience with some tiny toads while I was out for a walk. The tiny toads were about the size of my finger nail on my pinkie. A dozen or more of them were spaced along a stretch of the road; each tiny toad was trying (unsuccessfully) to climb the curb. They did not seem yet to be able to hop high enough to make it up, and as soon as they would get partway up, down they would slide. I have always loved toads and frogs. I took time to help each one up and onto the soil, feeling very connected to the web of life.
Two years ago researchers at Justus Liebig-University in Giessen, Germany and Harvard Medical School integrated decades of existing research into a comprehensive conjectural report, which explains the various neurological and conceptual processes through which mindfulness mediation works (and which recent studies have continued to affirm.)
The report suggests that mindfulness meditation operates through a combination of several distinct mechanisms: attention regulation, body awareness, emotion regulation, and a change in perspective on the self. Each component is believed to assist us in various aspects of our lives, and when functioning together, the cumulative process claims to lend an enhanced capacity for “self-regulation” — the ability to control our own “thought, affect, behavior, or attention” (The loss of which has been cited as the cause of much psychological distress and suffering).
In other words, the researchers suggest that the practice allows us to develop a stronger command over the machinery of the mind, a dexterity which, according to a study released this week, stays with you long after you finish meditating.
Long after the experience, the lesson seems to stay with me. The best ones do that…
By Debra Basham, on June 19, 2013
It is amazing how obvious something is as you are able to be more present. Saturday morning when I stopped to pick up my friend Claudia to drive to a three-day silent meditation retreat, I made one last potty stop, using her husband’s bathroom. We got into the car, settled in, and as I backed out of the driveway, I teased her that I like his bathroom other than the fact that his toilet paper rolls the wrong way. I did not yet realize that the message of the retreat was already being revealed to me….
The teachers of the retreat help students work with the practice of Vipassana (mindfulness or insight) meditation. As a prolific writer, it is a miracle that I can limit myself to just a few sentences on the tiny pages in a 3 inch by 4 inch notebook. On Sunday afternoon, I made the first note in my retreat journal: “If I were not judging right now, what might I be experiencing?”
The toilet paper roll came to mind—along with a flood of pain and the thought that what I might be experiencing if I was not judging, was my desire to be “right.” Even toilet paper direction had a right and wrong connotation in my mind. It was as though every act held life or death implications.
Right and wrong are not like perfect pitch, they are like relative pitch. Close enough is good enough. It is important you are moving in the direction of… Be sure to set your intention. Correct and incorrect belongs to the mundane. Words tumbled onto the page as relief flowed in along with the welcomed pure awareness. I could see the past simply as what I was to experience.
Another note in my retreat journal: “If we have a preference, that can be a place of stuckness.”
The bathroom adjacent to the meditation hall had a twin toilet paper holder. I reversed one so it went under while the other went over. I experimented with noticing my preferences and soon began to feel a palpable ease in accessing tissue from down under!
I began to notice how deeply connected that old fear of doing something wrong had been connected to the tension in my shoulders and the tightness in my abdomen. As I saw the old conditioning for what it was, I began to set my intention to not be in tension, choosing instead to experience ease in my body, mind, and spirit, by letting grace flow in. My shoulders relaxed and my belly softened. What an amazing relief….
We were instructed to notice how much even our sensations of pleasant and unpleasant are influenced by our perceptions which have been conditioned. Barbara said if you feel something on your skin and you see that it is a fly, the sensation is likely to be considered unpleasant. However, if you see that what is walking on you is a butterfly, you are much more likely to consider delight in the tickling of that touch. As is often the case, you have the opportunity to practice experiencing the truth you are integrating…
 This morning, as I was immersed in the tasks around catching up, I began to feel that old pattern of stress in my shoulders and tightness in my belly starting to reassert itself. I remembered hearing a teaching about the one who is aware of tension is not tense. I set that intention to see that bigger picture, and I began to ponder that idea of right and wrong applying only to the mundane world. When I am putting a phone number in the customer profile, if I put in a 7 where there should have been an 8, I have put in a WRONG number. If I decide to buy this car over another make and model, is one choice right and another wrong? Perhaps if I am buying a Corvette and I can only pay for a Ford Focus, that may not the best choice, but notice how clearly you are able to see that idea of relative pitch.
Barbara shared about having gone into a local soda shop with a friend of color. This was about 50 years ago, in the old world of hatred and biggotry we lived in back then. Barbara and her friend sat down at the counter and Barbara said, “We would each like a coke.” She thought things were going well as she watched the soda jerk turn and draw two glasses of cola, but when he came back over to the counter where the two young girls were sitting, rather than set the glasses on the counter for them, he poured the ice cold contents over each girls’ head! A riot broke out and Barbara was arrested. With her in the cell was an elderly black woman (elderly to Barbara’s then twenty-something, but probably no more than fifty). The woman commented to Barbara about how angry she was.
“Yes, I am angry. You should be angry, too. Aren’t you angry?” Barbara snapped.
“Of course, I am feeling angry, but I am also feeling love. They are so afraid…” came the woman’s life-changing reply.
As Mother Teresa said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”
I don’t know if you will agree or disagree with all of this, but one more note of truth in my journal worth remembering: “Nothing is ever finished.”
By Debra Basham, on June 7, 2013
A few days ago I received a message from Betty Lue Lieber, co-founder of the interfaith program I am ordained in. She was reporting that there are now 42 ordained Ministers of Reunion, and she provided us the invitation to “check in” if we would like to do that.
Immediately, I thought “4 plus 2 = 6.”
The Lovers!
This has been an amazing week for me. On Monday, my husband’s (John’s) business (Johnny on the Spot Window Cleaning Service) was officially sold to a young man who had been his employee for years about a decade ago—before falling in love and getting married to a woman who lived in another state. We have been close, and I performed their wedding!
Like with most changes we want (I am thinking of couples with children who want to divorce and then find they need to cooperate more fully in the new relationship than the previous one, or a person with a painful joint who undergoes surgery), I am finding this next phase of freedom—training and assisting the new owner and the new administrative assistant— is far more challenging than I imagined.
That takes me to this week’s major awareness as I worked with a client who had a total knee replacement. As I watched her dance in the debilitating daze of the anesthetic and narcotics, I was reliving my own postsurgical experience from last November. I had such compassion for both of us, and I knew there was only ONE of us and I was actually reliving my experience. That happens to me more and more now….
Most days I bring pleasure and well-being to my busyness by riding my bike to the credit union to make the deposit, or finding a point of connection more clear than windows while scheduling a job. Even so, more often than I would like, I find my body in stress as though I am in rush with life or death. This strikes me as very odd for someone who sees death as the doorway to life eternal.
When I catch myself armed against the very peace I say I seek, I remember Betty Lue’s saying, “Awareness without judgment is healing.” I bring my shoulders down, soften my abdomen, take a breath, and sometimes even express my gratitude for life right out loud.
Yesterday when I got back from my weekly trip to Kalamazoo (in addition to having an office here in Saint Joseph, I am still working part time at Borgess Integrative Medicine at the Health and Fitness Center in Kalamazoo), the new admin was leaning back in my office chair looking out my window into the amazing bird sanctuary that is home to ducks, orioles, jays, cardinals, rose-breasted grossbeak, finches, robins, doves, and a host of other winged ones. I felt my body cringe…
When he left, assorted papers were strewn across the surface of MY desk and on MY floor. The outer chaos churned against my own inner questions about what life will be like without this distraction which brought the illusion of security into our lives. I thought immediately about how children often will play the game of, “He/she is on my side of the _____.” You can fill in the blank… and get the idea.
Every day I remember that this moment is opportunity for spiritual practice. The best way to express what I believe about all that now is to share this familiar writing from 1st Corinthians. I am using a contemporary version called The Message.
1 Corinthians 13 (The Message)
The Way of Love
If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all God’s mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.
Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
Love never dies.
Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled.
When I was an infant at my mother’s breast, I gurgled and cooed like any infant. When I grew up, I left those infant ways for good.
We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing God directly just as God knows us!
But for right now, until that completeness, we have three things to do to lead us toward that consummation: Trust steadily in God, hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.
Ah, yes. The best of the three is love. And there is great love for each of you!
By Debra Basham, on May 21, 2013
I almost cried this morning when I thought how long it has been since I posted a blog—ten days! It has been a very busy time, working with/for Johnny on the Spot Window Cleaning Service.
It would be very easy to be in resistance, both to the pace and the tasks. It is so much more my preference to be leisured, and to be doing what I think of as healing work. My spiritual practice is to remember that the key is live from a soul awareness and to recognize when I have been in an illusion (time, money, energy, etc.).
I do appreciate when I can notice the connections to the folks who are calling about windows. Johnny’s tag line is to see clearly. Well, that is a worthy goal for all of us.
Today my heart is filled with compassion for those who have been affected by the tornadoes in Oklahoma.
Today, I also remember my friend, Evelynn Lewis, who was originally from Oklahoma. In some ways, she is the reason I learned Healing Touch™ and am where I am today missing the business of healing work as I am in the busy-ness of window cleaning. Evelynn and her husband Gene, are both in spirit now, along with those children who were in school when the tornado hit.
How do you see clearly when you are looking at what appears to be destruction and death? Today I am reminding myself to breathe and remember the truth.
Energy can be neither created nor destroyed and everything is energy…
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| Keepsakes of Carol’s beloved Lizzie… |
By Debra Basham, on May 11, 2013
“Timing is of the essence…”
“Timing is everything…”
“It is all about the timing…”
So many phrases in our lives have to do with timing. I certainly experienced that yesterday. Since before lunch, I had been intending to get to the grocery store. One phone call after another kept delaying my departure. At one point, I had my shoes on, my purse over my shoulder, and my keys in my hand just as one of the window cleaning crews pulled in, blocking my vehicle in the garage. I slipped my shoes off, set my purse and keys down, and said to myself, “Oh, well, they have been working so hard, and they will not be there long. I can wait.”
Imagine my surprise and delight to see one of my dearest friends who was just arriving in town after a three-day drive back to Michigan from Florida! Had I been at the store any of the other times I planned, I would have missed seeing her and welcoming her home.
The timing was perfect, because this woman is not just any friend. We have shared a lot over the years, but a very special bond was forged between the three of us when she was by our side last fall when I discovered I had a very aggressive mass growing in my abdomen. She accompanied us to the hospital the day of my surgery. In pre-op, I was told I needed to remove my wedding band. It would not fit safely on any of his fingers, but it slipped right on her finger. When the doctors and nurses came in, I introduced her as, “My husband’s other wife.”
She is the one who sat with him, awaiting news of my fate. She is the one who drove me to my post-surgical visit. She was holding the workings of our trembling hearts in her hand, and just as she was keeping my wedding ring safe, our hearts were safe with her.
Something of the raw stuff of all of that came flooding back to me this morning when I read what (for me) was a very emotional article titled “My Husband’s Other Wife.” It touched me deeply, and it might touch you, too. The author’s husband had been married briefly to a woman who died from breast cancer not long after they were married. The cancer and treatments made it impossible for them to have a child. These tender thoughts are at the heart of the story:
When our daughter was 8 she found the same box of photos that I had seen that day I moved in. She brought them downstairs to our bedroom and said she wanted to look at the old pictures of Daddy. She asked about the pretty, dark-haired woman always standing next to him. My husband told her that was Robin.
After a few more minutes she looked up and said, “There are so many pictures of her.”
“Dad loved her,” I said.
“If you loved her so much, why didn’t you marry her?” she asked her father.
He looked at me, and I nodded.
“I did,” he replied.
Our daughter looked at the picture she was holding in her hand, her eyes widening, then at me. It was like one of those moments in Dickens when a foundling discovers her true origins.
“It’s like I have two mothers,” she said in a kind of astonishment.
What an innocent view of love. And what amazing wisdom to create a safe enough space for that innocence to be expressed freely.
As I sit at my computer writing, I am watching three pair of rose-breasted grosbeaks outside my window. A few moments ago, one male flew straight to my window, fluttered back and forth in front of me, then landed on the pavement below my window looking up at me. This about grosbeak from Animal Speak, by Ted Andrews:
This totem [grosbeak] can help teach us to heal all the old wounds and hurts of family origin…A grosbeak has a beautiful melodious voice. This is significant. A melody is formed by a relationship between notes. A single note does not make a melody. The grosbeak can help us to see our family relationships as a true melody—each note separate but part of a larger whole. They can help us to see how our family has affected our life patterns…It can help you in seeing family patterns that you have brought over into your present life, along with your present family members.
In ways too complex and maybe even too intimate for this post, it feels as though my heart is healing so completely from those ancient wounds and that you now are being allowed to view love and life through the eyes of that innocence again. What wonderful timing for Mother’s Day!
By Debra Basham, on May 5, 2013
I began, like so many of us, in a household where
it was somehow my job to be the lightening rod for the family’s tensions
of unexpressed emotions.
~ The Book of Awakening:
Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You Have
by Mark Nepo
I have come to believe that one of the causes of mental illness is having universal experience and thinking it is somehow worse for you or unique for you. Perhaps we are looking more at spiritual disease than mental illness, but without a doubt, it is a source of deep distress.
Mark Nepo is describing the reality of being born into a human family. Infants are lightening rods for the emotional experiences around them. This was not just a report of his personal life, it is a fact of each of ours.
Previously (including in my book Falling Together in Love: Stories From My Heart for and about YOU), I have written about the emotional climate I was born into around my mother’s having discovered she was pregnant for me at the same time she was told she had gotten syphilis from my father. It is quite easy to imagine the emotions I was a lightening rod for in those first weeks and months in the womb….
Brent Haskell, in Journey Beyond Words, says it like this “The past is the creator of judgment. Without a past, and without your judgment, all people are equal.” This is probably true about our experiences, too. Without a past and without our judgment, we are free to just experience life.
I have been working on an up-coming tip for well-being around the importance of the practice of meditation. The benefits are being proven by science more and more every day. For the tip, I have developed a core line, “You must be present to win.” We must develop the ability to be present to our own emotions, including those we took on from our family of origin, to win at the game of life. What you win is inner peace and stability and the joy of living.
As Emily Dickinson put it:
To be alive is power,
Existing in itself,
Without a further function,
Omnipotence enough.
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| Like clouds moving in water, problems make me forget I am clear… The Book of Awakening, May 5 |
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Water reflects everything it encounters.
This is so commonplace that we think water is blue, when, in fact, it has no color.
Amazingly, while soft and flowing, water—as ocean or lake or even as the smallest puddle of rain—takes on the image of the entire world without ever losing its essential clearness.
~ Mark Nepo
By Debra Basham, on April 29, 2013
It has not quite yet been a month since we arrived back home in Michigan. Today I am somewhere beneath the hustle and bustle of the world of spring and window cleaning business. The sun did come out to lure me away from my lists of tasks. A pair of ducks seemed grateful the April showers of the past couple of weeks had left a puddle about the size of a two-car garage on the property at the corner. They were not so sure I meant them no harm, and much quacking between them made me think one of them must have told the other, “Get out of the water. Now!”
Waddling along the edge of the puddle, she was the first to slip back into the water. I am guessing he was the one who had given the warning, much like the Lost in Space robot’s calling, “Danger, Will Robinson!”
But taking her lead, he soon joined her, with an still-ever-so-subtle attention to my whereabouts.
In my mind I am watching the two ducks who often come to visit outside my window so I wonder why they did not recognize me as the one who watches them with a heart full of wonder and a fist full of corn.
As a tribute to all of nature, including my own human nature, I will share a poem.
I Found A Feather
I found a feather on the ground
Who left it there for me?
Was it a gift of yonder god
To see if I can see?
Do I miss the other gifts
While busy in my head?
Planning what I still will do
Rehearsing what was said?
I pray I find
One soon fine day
I am right where I am
I put the feather by my bed
As I lie down to sleep
I dreamt of love so sweet
Indeed, it nearly made me weep
Now when I look up to the sky
Each winged one I spy
I pretend within my heart
I know the reason why
That lovely feather came to me
To call me to my heart
That I may live in peace and calm
Today’s the day I’ll start!
2/5/2013 by Debra Basham
“All ducks have a grace upon water, and as a totem they can help you to handle your own emotions with greater grace and comfort. They serve to teach you how to maneuver through various waters of life. Many psychologists and therapists could do no better than to have a duck as a totem to assist them in helping others move through their emotional tangles.” (Ted Andrews, Animal-Speak, p. 136)
May today be the day all beings start to live in peace and calm. That will be just ducky!
By Debra Basham, on April 23, 2013
Legend has said that one day many centuries ago, Tara was meditating and chanting her mantra in her Lotus Buddha Field, when some monks happened by. They felt her powerful vibrations and profound meditational energy, and they said, “Oh, Yogini [female practitioner], you are such an excellent spiritual practitioner. In the future may you be born as a man and become a Buddha.”
And Tara replied to those arrogant macho monks, “May I throughout all my lifetimes always take female form. Until all beings realize the nirvanic peace, bliss, and freedom of full enlightenment,
may I always embody the sacred feminine and be a female Buddha.”
Awakening the Buddha Within: Tibetan Wisdom for the Western World (p. 247), by Lama Surya Das
This story catches my eye (and heart) quite fully right now as I was just reading a powerful poem by a woman writing about the sacred balance of ebb and flow of human live—some lives ending all too soon, and some lives beginning all too soon, yet each coming and going in just the perfect place of no-time.(The nuclear disaster in Chernobyl occurred in April of 1986.)
The Years We Will Know Them
Soon I will know if I am pregnant.
I watch my blood, so willing
to fill the vial, and the tiny blue bruise
that instantly forms
where the needle entered.
In this waiting room I sit
with a Lifemagazine—
Victims of Chernobyl in bold
and photos of men without hair,
skin peeling as if they’d lain
too long in the sun.
Some glance hopefully at us, wide-eyed,
a part of History.
But how young—
they must have mothers
who’d want to hold such heads and weep
for the years they have known them,
the ones they will not.
Each morning nurses collect the hair
in great clumps from the pillows
till each bare scalp gives up
boyhood scars and birthmarks,
a shell bony and domed.
Uncovered, the nape of the neck
is a place a woman remembers
putting her lips to.
My name is called.
Soon I will know if the tender bone
of a skull is bedded
like a pearl in my womb.
—by Lauren Mesa
What strikes me as significant about this poem and the story of Tara, is the truth of how each of us is capable of touching life with such awareness that our very breath tells a story of our larger destiny.
Recently I was playing a game of dominoes with some friends. This was the third game over a few weeks with the same five players. It became obvious one player was playing AGAINST me even though I was not winning. I was aware that did not feel good. After shifting into a more neutral observer, as she was even saying things about the focus of blocking me, I mentioned what I saw that was happening: “You are playing against me as though i was winning.”
Her reply was, “It feels like you are.”
At the moment I was able to acknowledge I was experiencing my own energy from the previous two games…. I offered up a silent prayer for this awareness and wrapped my heart in forgiveness as I remembered my higher purpose was to enjoy the game.
I am witnessing one dear friend support her beloved husband as he navigates a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s. She sees the challenges as opportunities for love and respect and tenderness and patience for both of them.
I am also watching another dear friend (long since grandmother age) raise a baby. She finds delight in each busy moment rather than feeling overwhelmed by the responsibilities.
I also hold that space for Carol after the transition of her beloved daughter, Lizzie.
No matter what we do for a living, the purpose of our lives is to use our heads, hands, and hearts to help others. Thank you, blessed friends, for doing that day after day….
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| Daffodils in bloom: Walking the labyrinth at Still Waters with Carol. |
By Debra Basham, on April 16, 2013
I was blessed to spend the weekend at a “no-frills” meditation retreat at the Howell Nature Center with nine others. The format for the weekend is silent practice. In fact, you have precious little free time, but I found amazing freedom.
The schedule mixes sitting meditation with active meditation, and much of the weekend was cold and rainy, so I practiced walking meditation up and down the stairs, sometimes with my eyes open, and sometimes with them closed; sometimes going backwards with eyes closed. It was my version of being led on a trust walk, only there was no other doing the leading.
During the Friday evening opening I learned that a woman I had met on two previous meditation retreats had died in March. I remember her as a wonderful spirit. I knew she was undergoing treatment for breast cancer but I admit that I was stunned to hear of her transition.Godspeed, Shelia….
I kept my phone plugged in, watching for text messages from my friend Carol, who was bedside by her 27 year-old daughter, Lizzie. (See previous blog) I knew the family had been called together and the process of easing Lizzie off life-support had begun.
On Sunday morning, the weather was cool but it had stopped raining, so I went out-of-doors for my walking meditation. As I turned the corner, coming out of the parking lot, following the “wrong way” signs, I saw this amazing piece of art: a single heart-shaped leaf was floating in a mud puddle. The puddle was surrounded by gravel, each piece seemingly having been placed there by some artist for its sheer aesthetic value. The tree silently standing watch had been reflected in the water in such a way you could imagine you were seeing the arteries from that heart.
It was so beautiful, it almost took my breath away.
I had the immediate knowing, “Lizzie is free.”
For sure, much of my weekend was tinged with the humble gratitude for my own life. I was reminded of the answer my friend Rabbi Rami Shapiro provided in his column (Roadside Assistance for the Spiritual Traveler) to the question, “What happens when I die?”
Where does an ice cube go in a tub of warm water? You are the cube, God is the water. For a while you seem separate from the water, but eventually you melt – you die – and discover that you, too, are water. Have fun being a cube; just don’t forget that all cubes are water, and everything is God.
I had previously shared with Carol another of Rami’s columns about our transition from this life:
Imagine that the universe is a rope and you, [and Lizzie], and all things are knots in that rope. Each knot is unique, and all knots are the rope. When we die our knot unties, but the rope that is our essence remains unchanged: we become what we already are.
Life after death is the same as life before death: the rope knotting and unknotting. The extent to which you identify with a knot is the extent to which you grieve over its untying. The extent to which you realize that the knot is the rope is the extent you can move through your grief into a sense of fearless calm.
For me, the rope is God, the source and substance of all reality. When [Lizzie] dies she relaxes into her true nature, and realizes who she always was and is: God. I believe this realization comes at death regardless of who we are or how we live.
As I pulled into my driveway, this message popped in from Carol, “Lizzie made a peaceful transition around 2:45 pm CDT. Her husband (AJ), his mom (Linda), Lizzie’s older sister (Amanda), and I were there holding her hands.” Godspeed, beautiful Lizzie…
Because I was alert to messages from Carol, I had my iPhone with me on my walking meditation. I am so thankful the sacredness of nature’s artwork was captured to be shared….
By Debra Basham, on April 12, 2013
Every day I say prayers for those I know are going through challenges of life. Sometimes is it for one of my grandchildren, navigating the potholes along the road from childhood. I maintain contact with friends and with colleagues and several “prayer circles” so I often share those requests for support. Prayer has been second nature to me, but since my own surgery in November, I realize how palpable that healing intention is.
Today I received a tender, touching, intimate photo of a my friend, holding the hand of her gravely ill thirty-something daughter. I can only imagine the agony of sitting bedside day-after-day, longing for a liver transplant, yet knowing that today your child is too ill to receive the very organ that is the hope for her life to be a viable option.
The following poem was written to honor my dear friend and her beautiful daughter, two women for whom I pray today. Two women whose hands and hearts are entwined in this sacred journey of their souls. It is a journey too profound for words.
Heart Breaking
Sitting here holding your hand
Heart breaking
Can you hear me calling you, asking you to stay a while
Where are you
Do you still dream
My mind wanders, but there is nowhere to go
Escape is not possible
Tears falling from my eyes
Heart breaking
Do you know I am here with you
I am here
I still dream
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