The Broken Dream
I never dreamed it like that – a man, a woman, a child and a dog.
My soul is longing for travelling and settling at the same time, for routine and adventure together.
I always get confused about it when it comes to men. Now I find that there is something in me that is ready to surrender – perhaps to a man, but mostly to something big to come and fill me up, something that will carry me into a strong current without knowing my course or direction. And at the same time, I have a deep knowledge that I can make this flow happen myself and I don’t really need anyone.
I find that for now it is good for me to concentrate on the way life evolves, grain by grain. When I concentrate on the road, there is no shape, nowhere to go and no particular way it should look. There is only what excites me and there is an examination of every step while it is happening. This is how I feel about men, children and family. At the moment, I feel like smiling at a boy on the beach with genuine joy and with the excitement of discovery, I might want one of my own one day, and not with fear of how it will be, or will it be possible at all? I feel like smiling at children and men, knowing that I will always have love, and that I will have so much more of it.
So I trust the girl who wasn’t interested in dreaming and I want to be the woman who is happy with the way it will come true. At the moment this is enough.
And maybe there’s a different understanding of what I’ve seen or dreamed all these years, maybe this openness I have lived, that we live and take pride in, an openness that says that every shape is possible and right; every sort of family or love – or maybe the unclear form or way of things to be is the real dream; maybe a group of women raising their children together as men come and go is the form, and maybe just as a couple? Maybe as good friends, maybe even just raising someone else’s children, a spouse or loved one is enough?
Sometimes there is a sigh of relief. Once I live without a dream, I have a place to create, test, marvel at the created woman and her freedom to create the life and family she wants. Suddenly I do not feel bound by the rules I have not set and which have not come to fruition anyway, and so when I manage not to be alarmed by this created space, I can also rejoice in it and not force myself to stick to a goal. Freedom.
My mom always says that you can’t have everything, that you have to choose, you can’t eat the cake and leave it whole. And I’m always angry and asking why. Why is it wrong to dream of crazy things? Things that do not align with the ordinary, or do not align with the governing form. Why is it wrong to live by a different way of thinking, with more and more open possibilities, without limiting what is possible or right? Why is it wrong to try to make them a reality?
And that same mother, right now, stands to my right and says – go ahead, there is no time to waste anymore; it is time to just live – and if it is this other life I choose, then go on – live it!
Yesterday I promised her that one day she would be proud of me. I meant that someday I will fit in some sort of slot, that I would settle and she will not have to worry about me. The truth is that’s a lie because my mother will probably always worry about me and at the same time will always be proud of me and especially of the woman I have become. She will be proud that I didn’t stop dreaming, but mainly because I realized that there was no slot I needed to fit, nor that it matters if I do.
She will worry, yes, and so do I, sometimes, but only when I fight the pace of life or more correctly life’s movement or rhythm. Then I mistakenly see life as gaining property or money and the losing of liberty, when I try to adjust myself and create slots and try to fit into reality.
She is proud of me today and so am I. Proud of the ability to strive for and fulfil this freedom which is without definitions and of a life that is about listening and movement.
We walk the world wearing capes, images of ourselves. We think they’re really who we are.
The truth is so much more beautiful. Its movement is so much simpler, wider and smarter. The wonder that is really us is waiting to be discovered. If only allowed.
We hold the cape so it doesn’t drop and leave us exposed and we are forced to see what we do not want to see. Sometimes we will even try to rebel against it, to be free from it, to be angry at it – thus only deepening our preoccupation with it and strengthening our belief that this cover is our identity and our destiny. We hold it because we forgot that it is a garment, just one possibility, a certain form that shows a small part. Not the thing itself.
When we see the dream and know that it is something we created or adopted rather than our true nature, what we really are, it becomes what nourishes us, inspires us and transforms into a playground – a place to experiment with life.
When a dream becomes a playground, it allows us to feel ourselves and see ourselves in situations we haven’t experienced yet; it allows us to discover beauty and wisdom, simplicity and love that are inside us and now come to an unknown expression and allows us to see where we are avoiding, sitting on the fence, sticking to opinions and beliefs about ourselves and the world, and frozen in our places. Where do we not let life flow through us and let it take us, carry us?
When I know that the dream is born of the wisdom and beauty that is within me, that it is right now, and that I want to enter through it and make it a play-ground for me, I can also let it break when the time comes – and resurrect.