Dreams are a fine golden thread, weaving in and out of the tapestry that is our life. There are moments that are flooded with shimmering golden light, places in the “fabric” that are filled with wide eyed uncertainty and boundless hope.
But what about the times where you loose sight of that thread? What happens when you can only catch a hint of sparkle, but the fluid movement that has propelled you forward to this point is gone?
This is not to say your life is with out purpose (or my life rather), it is just meant to call into question our intentions for why we do what we do. Do we accept our cercumstances because we have to? Relying on what is, instead of wondering what could be. Or do we dare to dream in a world that is filled with the chants of weekend warriors who work to live, instead of loving what they do.
I am a restless soul. I am not a person who can sit on their hands and do nothing. Not having a 9-5 job (not that my job before was ever just 9-5… but still) is killing me slowly. The struggle of spirit is in the waiting. Dream and passion, these things I promised myself to pursue loose weight with every passing day. Why? I fear buying into the montra, the chant, the call of the world that defines life order as birth, grow, school, grow, college, job, job, retire,decline, golf, decline, death. But current culture has battered it into my brain none the less. It has taught me to want those things, to desire stability, familiarity, and comfort.The pursuit of anything else is incredibly hard (or so I am finding).
There is gold inside us all, waiting to be spun into our stories. Daring to dream, to hope for more, to learn that we are worth more than what our generation deems expectable… is mildly terrifying, but it will make for one hell of a beautiful story in the end.