Lifecycles

I Had A Dream

I had dreams, and am still dreaming. There is so much sky and space to explore.
 
I remember the mystery and beauty of the woods and streams and rivers where I used to spend my days. I made those times so real I can still smell the woodland, the waters upon which the canoe would glide.

I remember the reaction my lungs had to that first stolen smoke, how I gasped from my first taste of alcohol, how the din of heavy metal would render me partially deaf for days after.

I dreamt of being a world-class photographer for National Geographic, of the mystique of travel, of new frontiers with new smells and sights.

I dreamt of flying, making all those trips a communion with the sky, how it would take me closer to the source of my creativity.

I could see myself surrounded by beauty, able to afford all those wonderful things I desired, oblivious to the fact that desiring does not make it so, it merely provides incentive.

I remember one disappointment after another when I failed to achieve instant success, when I wasn’t awarded a golden ring for my efforts. I became disillusioned, maybe someone had done me wrong.

I changed from one career, one business, one lifestyle to another. I continued the search I had begun in those loving woods, walking along and in the streams, stealthily gliding across the river so well I could surprise the water striders in their zig-zag dance upon the surface. I began to observe their erratic motions, with no discernible direction, no apparent goal.

I began to remember that I forgot. I thought the world had given up on me. I started to box up my dreams and put them on a shelf with the rest of my dusty items. I forgot that I was in charge of my direction, my goal.

I forgot that love from another comes from a love for oneself. I forgot that my friends were waiting for me to call upon them, that they wanted to be a part of my life.

I forgot that I was not a family, a team, a community on my own. I forgot that the beauty of the nature I revered remained, only I changed.

I remember that I forgot because the hurt of loss and failure remains until I fill that space with beauty, freedom and flight.

I forgot because I was never told to remember, but I may never have listened anyway.

Maybe I was advised, but I forgot.

Oct. 17th, 2006 @ 11:41 pm

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