Saturday, January 11, 2014

Daring To Hope

I had a sorrowful day. It was preceded by a fretful night of dreams that woke me up screaming in one incidence and jolting straight up in another. After several hours of restless sleep, I finally gave into wakening but not real consciousness. For several hours I felt trapped somewhere between the terrors of my mind and my current self.

When I was finally fully awake, I felt wretched, like I had just failed miserably at something that was really important. And, although I couldn't fully remember my dreams, I guess, I knew deep down that that's what the dreams were about: failure.

As someone who was has been led by ambition for most of my adult life, it seemed that my ultimate fear has always been failure. It's what I dread. But, somehow, even when my endeavors didn't entirely work out, or when they reached an expiration date, I was always able to reemerge, a little stronger, a little wiser, and a little further along a path I had only secretly set out upon. I say secretly because these were desires I all but kept from even myself. They were things I scarcely dared to wish for, but knew I truly wanted, and often, always to my surprise, these secret wishes would come true.

I spent most of my sorrowful day in my flannel pajamas, trying to make sense of what had shaken me so badly. Unanswered questions left me confused until finally they were replaced with unrelenting tears. I just couldn't stop them from coming. I cried in mourning for something I had lost. Even when I could compose myself, I could still feel the loss like a gaping hole in my chest. It was physically painful to hold in the sobs, so I let myself cry some more. I cried almost all the tears I had.

I slept that night, and woke up feeling refreshed the next morning. I guess the sorrow just had to escape so real thought could tell me the answers I was looking for. It was like hearing my inner voice for the first time in a very great while. It seemed what I really lost, was myself, and that was the failure that haunted me the most.

Sometimes it's easy to forget what we are about, especially when we concede to the judgement of others. It's easy to become lost in that perceived version of who We are. But being lost has a benefit too. It reminds us to appreciate the familiar ground that is closer to a truer self, the self that dares to hope for secret dreams.

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