I avoided the work yesterday. Biiiiig resistance to choosing five dreams. I hate committing to a finite number of things. You know those people who have like one big dream, to be a rockstar or a professional athlete or a doctor or a dog trainer? That’s never been me. I have *never* known just one thing I wanted to be or to do. I knew I wanted to get married. I knew I wanted to have children. Because I could do those without excluding a whole lot of other stuff. I don’t have one big dream. I have like 100,000 tiny interests, things I like to do and learn about. Would I want any one of them to be my full-time job? Hell no. If I had one of those kind of burning passion dreams, you know I’d be running it down hard to make it happen. But I really, really don’t. I have things that I’d like to do, I guess. But they’re not long lasting passions. I like to do them. Not really to the exclusion of other things.
Boy, what I could do with 10,000 lives. So many things to do and try and learn.
But look, I chose 5 anyway. Do I feel like, “Yes! These are the five dreams!” I really don’t. They’re things that would be cool. I know I like to do some of them (play music, travel, blog) and some I think would be really fun (have a homestead, write a cookbook).
But if you had asked me last month? One of those dreams might have been “Become a certified professional herbalist.” And a few months before that? “A professional writer.” “Go on a weeklong meditation retreat.” “Train as a yoga instructor.” These are all plausible things for me at one time or another. I wonder what would be on the list if I did it next month?
And the bigger meaning, the feeling behind my five dreams? Again, I had a long list of possibilities. Learning, creativity, adventure…but I settled on connection.
When I play music, it’s one of the only times I enter into the flow, where I lose track of time and connect with something bigger.
When I travel, I’m creating a connection between myself and a new place – taking in the people, smells, architecture, language, and it expands my world and connects me to it in a very new, concrete way.
When I think about having our own homestead, I think about creating a long-term connection with a place, the land, the house that we own and can repaint or add on to in our own vision. Connecting with a community in a lasting way.
When I blog, what I really want is a connection with you. I want you to say, yes, me too or wow, I hadn’t thought of that, but it makes sense. I want you to see me, and I want to see you. To know that we’re in this together, that we’re not alone.
The cookbook thing? I think I want to do that to share myself, my knowledge, something I love with you. Maybe it’s the latent Italian grandmother in me, but I want you to be nourished, to connect with you through food.
Because isn’t connection what it’s really all about? As I try on this being vulnerable thing more and more, I really think it might. Being human, seeing each other for who we really are, and reaching out our hands despite our perceived differences or the possibility of ridicule. It’s worth the risk, no?