I can't find my dream
Have you ever washed clothes and instead of putting them up right away, you placed them in a pile on the floor? Now if you washed two loads at one time, you notice just how stupendous that pile becomes.
The pile doesn't seem to bother you unless you have to recover something from it. You commence to look for that one favorite shirt and then you realize that finding this article of clothing has become overwhelming to the point that you stop and decide to wear something else.
As I was thinking about how that one article of clothing could be under several piles of clothing. I began to see how this approach is evident when it comes to how to we handle our dreams sometimes. Why is it that we trap our dreams under a self-made pile of mentally destructive load? When things begin to pile up we let go and move on to something else? What causes us to stop believing in our abilities?
It is like we start fresh with a dream. This is exciting for us because we have new ideas and a new perspective on achieving this dream. However, this dream starts sinking into a pile that over time has been self- constructed or even just things we have accepted from others. We create a pile of self-doubt, fear, frustration, disappointment, rejection, laziness, etc. Eventually our dreams are no longer clear.
This is like the young lady who wanted to be a ballerina. She dreamed of walking out on a stage one day in New York City where an audience would watch her as she performed on opening night. However, her reality begin to disintegrate because she started seeing herself as others saw her. They said she was too big to be a ballerina because images portrayed the dancers as thin and petite. Eventually, the dream died and her focus was no longer on becoming a ballerina. This young lady had buried the dream and it was no longer evident that it was once within her heart. Fast forward to today, her dreams begin to form into this pattern. Over and over, those dreams formed into piles of rubble so far down that she didn't even know they existed once. First, a ballerina, next a singer. All of those dreams died because she believed the voices of the naysayers over her voice of reason. Have you been where she was? I know I have. It wasn't until one day, just like this young lady that I finally realized the self-destructive patterns that controlled my life. Yet, the great news is that I learned that I didn't have to organize my life this way. That the story I wanted to tell was up to me. Today, I choose to write the story of life and you can to. Sometimes taking that step can be hard, but always know there is help, if needed.