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I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.
--Langston Hughes
I dream. Wildly, frivolously, passionately, with flushed and reckless abandon.
I dream of star-speckled nights spent on islands, mountains, Parisian rooftops.
I dream of pages--pages upon pages--of books, books with my name on the cover.
I dream of audiences, of eyes shining and searching, looking for me on the stage.
I dream of hugs and kisses and the complete love and trust of another.
I dream of contentment.
I dream of so many, many things.
It took me a long time to be willing to admit to myself the presence of these big, full-bellied fantasies. When I did for the first time, I'd blush to think of the extravagance and scope of my heart's imagination. But then, I began to make room for my dreams, to allow myself the silliness and joy of my imaginings. Allowing myself my dreams was like giving myself a gift of returning happiness and light. But it also brought with it the twinge of melancholy, because while I came to carry my dreams with me next to my skin and inside my bones, I couldn't any longer ignore the difference between those dreams and the reality of my life.
I wanted to sing, but I had stage fright.
I wanted to be an artist, but I had to feed myself.
I wanted to be a writer, but I didn't have any time to be anything but a student.
I wanted to read more, but I was too tired to do anything but watch Netflix.
I wanted to have more friends, but I couldn't bear to burden others with my problems.
I wanted to heal from my sadness, but they say depression is something that's a fact of brain chemistry that can't be healed; you can't change your genes.
I want x, but y is getting in my way.
Excuses, excuses, excuses.
I've been a follower of a number of blogs that talk about intentional living, and I thought it was a concept that I'd come to understand. But yesterday, for some reason, it all came together for me in an instant in a way that's profoundly changed how I look at my life right now.
It happened after I came home from my summer job yesterday, a little tired and very eager to shake off the stress of the day. My usual pattern would be as follows:
1. Walk inside.
2. Kick off shoes.
3. Put bag on floor.
4. Get a glass of beverage.
5. Sit on couch and turn on TV.
I was about to initiate the above process, but yesterday, for some reason, I paused--and in pausing, I had this thought:
Intentional living is realizing that I'm choosing to tune out rather than tune into my life and my desires.
Intentional living is realizing that I am not a victim of biology or situation.
Intentional living is empowering myself to make the choices I can to bring myself closer to the realization of my dreams.
And this small, logical thought has emotionally brought me to my knees and lifted my spirit with a new sense of hope and belief in myself. It has opened up my future to the possibility of alignment with my dreams.
This thought has lit me on fire with the prospect of living fully, freely, and truly.
What amazing things happen when we stop and allow them to, eh?
xoxo
Emma
I wanted to sing, but I had stage fright.
I wanted to be an artist, but I had to feed myself.
I wanted to be a writer, but I didn't have any time to be anything but a student.
I wanted to read more, but I was too tired to do anything but watch Netflix.
I wanted to have more friends, but I couldn't bear to burden others with my problems.
I wanted to heal from my sadness, but they say depression is something that's a fact of brain chemistry that can't be healed; you can't change your genes.
I want x, but y is getting in my way.
Excuses, excuses, excuses.
I've been a follower of a number of blogs that talk about intentional living, and I thought it was a concept that I'd come to understand. But yesterday, for some reason, it all came together for me in an instant in a way that's profoundly changed how I look at my life right now.
It happened after I came home from my summer job yesterday, a little tired and very eager to shake off the stress of the day. My usual pattern would be as follows:
1. Walk inside.
2. Kick off shoes.
3. Put bag on floor.
4. Get a glass of beverage.
5. Sit on couch and turn on TV.
I was about to initiate the above process, but yesterday, for some reason, I paused--and in pausing, I had this thought:
Intentional living is realizing that I'm choosing to tune out rather than tune into my life and my desires.
Intentional living is realizing that I am not a victim of biology or situation.
Intentional living is empowering myself to make the choices I can to bring myself closer to the realization of my dreams.
And this small, logical thought has emotionally brought me to my knees and lifted my spirit with a new sense of hope and belief in myself. It has opened up my future to the possibility of alignment with my dreams.
This thought has lit me on fire with the prospect of living fully, freely, and truly.
What amazing things happen when we stop and allow them to, eh?
xoxo
Emma
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