Kindling

"The problem with the world is we all think our goals are too lofty."  She throws this thought out there in the midst of a conversation about finding your passion.  We’re talking about a young person we both know; thrilled to discover this normally introspective, quiet, seemingly lost soul is suddenly and uncharacteristically shouting from the rooftops what he wants his future to look like.  His goal appears ambitious; prompting a caring adult in his life to ponder whether this desire to achieve what looks to be unachievable isn’t setting him up for disappointment.

And so I find it interesting when she paints such a broad brush across the globe, but I wonder myself how many dreams are dead on arrival, and I know what prompted someone somewhere to say “Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will.”

Passion-finding is hard work.  It’s not so much about trying to figure out what it is you love, it’s figuring out where what you love fits in the structure of today’s society.  It’s pinpointing in this vast universe the audience looking to receive what you have to give. And in the case of gainful employment, it’s unearthing those willing to compensate you, at least enough to support the standard of living you desire. How many budding artists have been derailed with the words “no one will ever pay you for that”?  How many of us plug away at lackluster jobs by day for a bankroll, not realizing what really fuels us is the midnight oil our passions drive us to burn?

Those around us who want to help often steer us down the well-traveled road of certainty, and in the process unknowingly and inadvertently shame our dreams into silence; their automatic responses programmed to direct us to the safe and easy path where we won’t be hurt, rather than encourage the risk taking that comes with embarking on a trail not yet forged, an outcome unproven.  Who says we all should prioritize money, choosing fields guaranteed to bring in a good buck?  Who has the right to advise us to abandon our unique talents because the places to employ them aren’t readily apparent or exceedingly abundant?  Maybe the perfect job description is waiting to be written by the courageous individual who fits it?

Dreams in their nascence universally strike a match of hopeful doubt. As supporters, we are the bellows breathing life into these sparks.  It’s our job to notice the telltale signs of the fire within:  Eyes light up, lips form broad smiles, speech races.  It is effervescence unleashed, laced with diminutive shyness asking the silent question “Can I really do this?”  What if we listened raptly, nodded profusely, “Yes, you can!”

A passion revealed is a flame flickering furiously in a howling wind. We have the power to lovingly cup our hands around it with thoughtful questions, or to blow it out swiftly with dismissive judgment. Dreams are extinguished when they’re met with scorn, criticism or caution.  When we find the courage to talk about what’s closest to our hearts and souls, what’s risky, the last thing we need is to be acidulated with words on why it can’t happen.

I subscribe to the notion that we all instinctively know without a doubt where we want to be spending our time in life, we’re just afraid to speak a dream absent of all the steps we need to take to make it come true, uncertain our uncertainty will be met with affirmation.  But no one figures it out alone.  This is exactly why we need to stoke another’s passion when we see its glimmer on our path.

What if every single person out there was wholeheartedly encouraged to recklessly pursue her or his lofty dream?  Imagine the possibilities.  Imagine how life could be transformed by each individual bestowing his or her best and true self on the world. What part do you want to play helping another set the world on fire?

Abeyant

I don’t know why, but I’ve decided I like these sunny, bitterly cold mornings; “sunny” being the operative word.  Something about the brightness of the day, putting a sparkle on the snow makes me want to get up and moving despite the bone chilling cold.  Everything seems warmer with the solar glow.

For me, these frigid winter months are a marathon of creativity in the mad rush to submit my contribution to The Sketchbook Project and the annual scrapbook weekend preserving photographs in the pages of the never-ending chronicles of my children’s lives. I use this time trapped indoors to purge my closets and basement, in hopes of traveling a little lighter through the next year.

Kristin Armstrong writes a great piece about winter and honoring our desire to hibernate.  She speaks of the seasons, how this one is a time to mulch all we’ve experienced in the previous year, and live under its cover, making ourselves rich with the fuel we need to bloom spectacularly in the spring. This makes me wonder why so few of us allow ourselves such a complete rebirth.

It’s customary in our world to take some time off around the holidays to partake in revelry, ring in the New Year with some champagne and a checklist of resolutions, leaping into January, engines roaring, to start fresh.  We can’t get the holidays in the rearview mirror fast enough; Christmas tree at the curb about two seconds after the last note of Auld Lang Syne leaves our lips. What happened to the time to rest and rejuvenate?

Isn’t the New Year the perfect time, especially in these cold climates, to pull over at a cozy roadside inn, consult the map and make sure we’re heading in the right direction?  With Mother Nature begging us to stay inside, why wouldn’t we use the time to confirm we’re still excited about the destination we’re moving toward, and chart a course taking us by all the sites we’d like to see?

In a world where rewards come to those who possess a lead foot, easing up on the gas pedal is often frowned upon.  The goal of the pit stop is to be as quick as possible, not to spend time pondering whether we should jump out of the car.

Hibernation is misunderstood, and therefore we can question whether our pause, especially if we’ve lost interest in the road we’re on, is just laziness or craziness preventing us from moving forward. We doubt ourselves, and maybe since we’re literally under the covers, we ask ourselves if we’re hiding something, if the path of our dreams is so divergent from how the world knows us to be today, we don’t dare tread upon it.

 

But this is exactly what hibernation is for:  Time for solitude and self-reflection; time to be straightforward and honest about who we are and who we want to be, time to cultivate a safe place where we can look bravely within, decide if we’re ready to speak our dreams out loud and take a step in the direction of our true selves.

I believe our dreams are stowed inside of us, waiting for the moment we are ready to make them happen. What’s stopping you?