A limitless world of possibility gives us moments of concern and quite frankly, scares the manure out of us.
Dreams are impossible.
We turn them into novels and musicals.
We build windmills in their honour.
We much prefer when we can look back at our life and graciously marvel at our dusty, faded, worn out triumphs. They may be a bit tarnished, but they are ours. Over time, they may have faded, but they no longer require any work or effort, and we can have a conjugal visit with them, whenever our mood strikes.
We are simply afraid of our future.
We cannot imagine that we are great. We live our lives in its possibility.
We cannot fathom that we are endowed with the same creative power as the Universe. We worry that we will have to deal with endless disappointments, if we fail to give birth to our seemingly improbable future.
We’ve been here time and time again. We know what this will do to us. We get restless just thinking about it, and for some of us, this leads us to develop into stunted, visionary cripples.
We become the eternal pessimist.
Yet, looking back, we never seem to remember our initial sense of fear or any of the visions that prophesied of our inevitable doom and perpetual regret. We don’t see any of them. Why not?
Those long nights I spent alone in anger and self -loathing because my friends injured me, are so long gone. I don’t seem to remember any of it.
I can only bring myself to imagine that I wished them harm, maybe because they abandoned me, ignored me, or perhaps laughed at me. I might have dreamt of speaking to them or perhaps receiving a personal visit, with their arms wide open, tears in their eyes, perpetually apologetic and reassuring, that they would never harm me again.
None of that matters.
The energy I spent hiding from myself and making up stories that would wreak havoc for years to come did not serve me well. What is worse, I can’t remember why or who I was so angry with.
All that energy. All that time. And for what?
Not even one brain cell deemed it important to remember?
There was no sense or purpose to it all.
Dreaming is not easy.
It is a lonely walk in a busy metropolis.
People will see you hold a map in your hands. A map of possibilities. With a confused and struggling expression on your face. Your head bobbing up and down, side to side, in search of the right direction.
They will look at you with pity. Like a leaper who is shunned by his peers.
You speak a language they don’t understand. You see a world that threatens their existence. Unknowingly, you are killing the person they have grown to love. The person they wish you could remain forever. A foolish and dangerous notion.
You seem to talk nonsense. You hold discourse on a world to come.
Like a messiah, they will crucify you.
The will crucify you, to simply teach you a lesson. Some will crucify you because they want to wake you from your seemingly tyrannical nightmares. Others are just sadist. They hate everyone and everything. They would have nailed your hands to a cross, no matter what.
Keep dreaming. Imagine a world of possibilities.
Keep imagining a world that never existed.
Will that impossible world into being.
Don’t let anything hold you back. There is really no time to waste.
You have a tremendous value.
A purpose.
A mission.
You are a person with great meaning.
This is not the time to stop. This is the time to break through.
