Having dreams can be hard. Do you ever wake up sometimes and wish you had nothing to accomplish in this world, nothing to do, to leave behind as your fingerprint on a happier more loving world?

I sometimes wish there were a magical force that said, “Z, in this life, I give you permission to do nothing. Sink into the couch and watch Netflix all day. Read books in the sun. Be super duper lazy.”

But alas, there is no magic voice, and I often wonder if it is our nature to drive ourselves forward, or if instead, it’s me that propels  myself on, feeling the pin prick of guilt when I take a brain coma day, and watch TV for hours on end. Why do we have an intrinsic force that pushes us towards our goals and dreams?

I was pondering this today as I ran an errand and found myself asking, “What if I just gave up?” Immediately my brain said, “No you can’t do that!”

Me: Why not?

Brain: Because then you would fail.

Me: But I sometimes feel like I’m failing now.

Brain: No, you only fail if you give up.

Me: Ok, so why is that frowned upon again?

Brain: The giving up failure is. Because, we have potential inside us. We each have our own song that if we fail to sing, no one will ever hear, and we will go to our graves with our beautiful music locked within us.

Me: Did you hear that on Facebook?

Brain: So what if I did? It’s true.

Me: (Trying to remember how the actual quote went.)

Brain: Fine. I don’t care. Just give up. Do nothing with the rest of your life.

Me: (Sigh) No, of course I’m going to keep going. I just don’t want to be like Van Gogh and have his work noticed only after his death.

Brain: Why would that matter if your goal were to reach people?

Me: Because, it would be depressing for me, in my current life, plus I don’t think it’s ridiculous to want to reach people during my actual lifetime.

Brain: Valid point. Also fyi, VAN GOGH painted Starry Night from the view he saw outside the window of his sanatorium. He had an actual mental disease. You, do not.

Me: Noted.

On the way home I think about my conversation with myself, about how I know I’m not going to give up, but how dreams require a lot of time and patience, like building a house brick by brick. Yesterday, I read an amazing book about a girl who has cancer, so death is on my mind. It rolls around like a slippery stone on a wet floor. I think about how we, as humans, have a difficult time giving things up, whether it’s food, or toys, or relationships that no longer serve us. There are so many books and seminars on the “art of letting go.”

I think about humans and how, even in the direst of situations, we fight for life. Our bodies themselves fight to stay alive as though they are acting separate from ourselves. It is almost impossible to drown yourself without assistance, because there is something primal and innate within us, that resists death, that fights to stay here, even though, here, may be unpleasant.

Years ago, a friend referenced a beautiful quote by Anais Nin that I always remember.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.

Anais Nin

I think about death, not just physical, but the death of our dreams, if we forced them underwater to hold their breath. All living things fight to live. Dreams too, can be living things, and just as such, also resist their own death. The body, and our dreams fight back against us with a heroic pulse, to live until we cannot live anymore, until the pain of change floods over the pain of remaining the same.

It is only in the last moment of death, that we let go and let it wash over us, that the body gives in. Maybe it’s the last to trust the unknown? Maybe it took that final drop of water to push the pendulum over, knowing that it had done everything it could do.

When my marriage went through a slightly horrible war, I remember exactly where I was standing when a friend asked me, “Have you done everything that you could possibly do to work it out?” I remember it so clearly, because the answer was no, I had not, and if she had not asked me that I may have looked back on things now, or later, with regret.

I think that question is similar to the path of our dreams. Yeah, sometimes they suck. Sometimes it feels like you’re failing, or that you’re on stair one of a million mile staircase, that you just hammered the first nail in your mansion. Dreams take patience, consistency, and determination. They are not for the faint of heart.

But, if you are like me, and you cannot kill your dream, as much as you may sometimes ponder their death, then I will leave you with a final thought.

Just as you fight for your dream, your dream also fights for you, with a heroic pulse that resists death until its final blossom.

With Love,

Z :)