‘‘Dream big. Pursue your dreams. Live out your dream life.’’
Really, though?
I have, as I am sure you have as well, heard those slogans since childhood. At times, I believed them, because I love daydreaming, imagining and thinking anything is possible. Other days, I thought this all seemed either pointless, selfish, or simply impossible. After all, are all dreams meant to come true?
We live in a society where we are constantly told our ultimate purpose is to be happy (yes, I did throw a survey on the topic and also yes, you may have noticed, if you saw it, how common it is to think that way). So, one may think, what better way is there to happiness than to see your hopes and wishes come true?
It is only recently that, prodded by a friend even more hard-headed than myself, and also realizing through all of my school assignments that I CAN write, that perhaps, I was wrong to drop my ‘’writing dreams’’.
Now, I really don’t mean this article as a cheesy ‘’follow your dreams’’ motivational speech. In fact, I learned that making dreams a reality can be hard; and it's precisely about that struggle that I wish to rant. Life is not a passive journey. One can hope for something as much as they want, hoping might remain mere hope for as long as it is only hoping. And I… hope I didn’t lose you right there, dear reader.
What I mean is that tremendous opportunities can arise, but unless they are seized, they won’t have any impact at all. And, though talent is surely a great and valuable gift, without hard and consistent work, it may never be exploited.
Thus, for me, trying to become an author has become more of a decision than a fanciful impulse. I am finally taking steps to make it happen.
Most of those steps, for better or for worse, have -and will- involve stepping outside of my comfort zone. True, I will be the first to jump in a lake full of seaweed and frogs or to walk through town with a weird hat on. But to be open with the world and vulnerably present my heart-felt work? To risk being annoying by publicizing my blog and posts online? To reach out for help? My ego hates it. It is not what I’d consider a dream. I constantly have to remind myself that this IS what I want, because it would be so much easier and more comfortable to just let go and return to empty daydreaming.
If I didn’t believe that there is a greater purpose to it, this is totally what I would do, as I have before.
So… what is that purpose? Why do I write?
I want to share it with all of you faithful (or visiting; you’re welcome to the confidence too!) readers -and I also hope to remind myself of it, because it's so easy to lose sight of it. I write because I believe that a responsibility comes with each gift. If I can employ words with ease, then I ought to speak out. I want to be the voice of those who don’t have one. I wish to share stories too often unheard or overlooked. I hope (and act towards, to be consequent with my own words) to create compelling worlds that reflect reality through fantasy mirrors. And most of all, I pray to be a herald of the One who put me here.
So, here I stand, at work, scribbling furiously in an old notebook waiting for customers to come at the cash register (seems to be a recurring theme, eh?). The store is completely quiet save for the songs playing on the radio and the old fridge nearby, and I’m thinking about meaning and purpose and dreams and hard work, and taking notes I’ll have to recopy on a device. But here is my point: this is more than a dream. Dreams are usually something passive, be they during sleep or waking hours. I was passive with my writing for perhaps the last six years; I guess I just wasn’t ready. Now I am. And so, without really knowing where it will lead… I shall write.
On that same note, I would like to take a few seconds of your precious time to really thank you for reading this article and supporting me in my active dreaming journey. It means so much to me.
Until next time,
Vannah
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