I was reading Bette Midler”s tips “10 Things I Know Now” in AARP yesterday. Ha Ha, I can’t believe I was reading AARP it but I was. She said something like “if you lose your dream get a new dream.” So simple. I love wisdom tidbits especially from people who have experience. Dreams born from passion, mother and child.
Giving up a dream can be as hard as quitting an addiction.How do you know when your dream is unhealthy? You were high once, then hit ground, high again, then bouncing. That’s the nature of dreams. If a dream has a material goal with a predetermined ending point still unrequited (which has a certain sexy appeal) when do you stop?
I can definitely relate with being disappointed that things turned out differently than an originally imagined ending but usually I hear that stupid song again. It’s one of those annoyingly catchy jingles with words like loser and quitter snaked in the verse. Then there’s the bridge with that fantastic turn around at the end “Just One More Time” and I head to the cash register.
The death of passion however is another story. If the mystery is gone why would you want to do anything? If there isn’t something born greater than yourself and your practice time, then boo hoo, it’s bad. I’ve been there, to the point of no return. Allergic to my own dream. The loss of creative passion was unfathomable to me, I walked around checking my pulse, I couldn’t believe that I had killed that part of me. I was in the mud in the dark.
Luckily for us sensitives, passion can be resuscitated with a good set of paddles and some mouth to mouth. You fly to the ER. You get a heart transplant. There is a recovery period. For me it was pretty damn long. I still walk gingerly, looking nervously behind me hoping the boogie man is gone. I stumble across a new dream.
Having a passion or dream is more a way of being in and WITH the world. It can have an outcome but that is not the real “WHY” of it. Now I think of dreams very much the same as sleeping dreams; veiled, transparent, unpredictable. One minute you’re at the grocery store squeezing avocados and then you’re in a kayak cascading down a 100 foot waterfall and your groceries stay in the boat unsullied. That’s magic. Letting your dreams morph over time keeps them a renewable resource, a reason to be, a process not an ending point. Like Bette said: “squeeze an avocado, get a kayak.”