Keanu Reeves, Spirit Guide

It’s been a while since I stopped listening to my instincts, trusting my intuition. I’ll take an art workshop that involves tuning in, but I fall back out of touch with my inner voice as soon as the course ends.

That’s one of the things I decided to change this year. Honestly, ignoring that inner voice does not lead to solid choices. I brought back a simple technique that I haven’t used for years. Before I go to bed, I look at whatever is weighing on my mind, and I either pick the most important or narrow all of it down to one main question. I write my one question at the top of a page on a notepad, and I repeat it to myself as I fall asleep. When I wake, I immediately write down whatever I can remember of my dreams. It may be the whole thing, a word, an image, a feeling. Then I meditate on that in the context of my question. Sometimes, it takes more than one night to get something that makes sense, but the subconscious is pretty good at giving answers.

I know. You’re wondering how this connects to The Enigmatic Keanu Reeves™, who is mentioned in the title of the post. Simple. He ended up being my first guide of the year. I blame it on watching one of his movies earlier in the evening, rather than an ability to project himself into a random stranger’s dream to give advice. I don’t know the man, though, so maybe that’s one of his hobbies.

First, let me make something clear. When I say Keanu Reeves, you probably think of this guy:

Keanu Reeves standing in front of car
Keanu Reeves

Sleek. Slick. Stunningly handsome. And really, why wouldn’t you want to think of that guy?

For the purpose of this post, however, I’m talking about this guy:

Keanu Reeves with luggage
Keanu Reeves is so done

I saved this to a Pinterest board and changed the caption to “My totem animal is Keanu in a trucker hat at the airport at 3AM.” That is a man who is done. Done with hotels, airports, hauling around luggage, waiting in line, and people who won’t stop taking pictures. He wants to flop in his favorite chair with a good wine and a better book (or a nice whiskey and his favorite album on vinyl? I don’t know the man. I’m guessing) before falling asleep in his own bed.

Anyway. “Done Keanu Reeves” is the one you need to picture here.

I dreamed I was looking at this huge plaza, full of people. Food vendors. Live band. People laughing, talking, dancing. I walked around the outside edge, taking it all in, and finally found a bench where I could sit and watch. I immediately started bopping along to the music.

Keanu Reeves walked over, sat down on the other end of the bench, and asked, “Why are you here?”

“Listening to the band.”

“Obviously,” he said. “You haven’t stopped moving since you sat down. I meant why are you here, on the bench, instead of out there dancing like you want to be?”

When I couldn’t think of a really good answer, he continued. “I’ll tell you why. You’re chicken. You’re afraid you’ll do it wrong. Or people will stare. Or laugh. Or make fun of you. Or try to make you do it their way until you feel awkward and it’s not fun anymore. Because somehow, with everything you’ve been through, you still haven’t managed to figure out that however the music moves you is the right way, the only way, for you.”

My jaw dropped and I tried to sputter a response, but he wasn’t finished. “That’s been your problem your whole damn life. You don’t think or see or feel the same way they do, but you just keep trying to stuff yourself into a mold. You don’t even think about what parts of you get cut off to make you fit in the mold, as long as you can be like everybody else. Even if you could manage to finally fit, you’d never be happy because of what you gave up.”

With that, he stood. He looked down and said, “It’s time to throw away the molds and the boxes. Stop skirting around the outside. Get off the bench and step out in your own rhythm. Let the music, and life, move you the way they move you.”

He walked away while I sat there, mouth hanging open, trying to decide if I wanted to say thank you or throw rocks. Psychic Spirit Guide Keanu Reeves™ is harsh. Like, he puts the brutal in brutally honest. Dang.

But that’s apparently the way my subconscious mind felt the message needed to be delivered. No cuddles and kind words. I asked for guidance on moving into the new year, and I definitely got that.

Of course, the trick with any guidance is to actually put it to use. That’s sometimes easier said than done. But I certainly have a starting point.

Peace and kindness, lovelies

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