I am writing today for the dreamers who have stopped dreaming, whose dreams are collecting dust. I am writing for the people who have been carrying around a great idea or talent but never bring it out to share. It's time to dust off your dreams and give them a go.
Finally, in my forties, I am living my dream. It's not glamorous, but I am writing. And I'm sharing it. And it's scary. I never wrote consistently before because I felt that I wasn't good enough. I felt that I had to be asked to write. And that everything I wrote had to be received with huge applause and acclaim to warrant its existence.
A large part of me would rather keep scrolling through my Facebook feed unconsciously looking for something to criticize or condemn instead of writing. Because when we spend our time that way, we can feel superior. If we put ourselves on the line, we become targets ourselves...
But what else is on the line when we decide whether or not to create - aside from our fragile egos? I think of Langston Hughes' poem Harlem...
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Wayne Dyer whom we so recently lost said, "Don't die with the music still in you."
Not only is it important for our mental health and personal development to follow our desires to create, but what you have to say or create is important. Martha Graham wrote, "There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost."
However, as Henri Matisse said, "Creativity takes courage." And that is the truth.
Every time I hear one of my kids say, "Oh, I hate (insert pop artist or band)." I tell them, "That doesn't stop them from being famous and successful. I think they're great for having the courage to perform in front of loads of people."
Brené Brown quotes Teddy Roosevelt in her book Daring Greatly:
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.
I wish for my kids to always feel empowered to create. I realize that it is a precious gem that can easily be broken. Today I was reading a short story my son wrote for school and I was starting to say it didn't make sense, but I stopped when he looked hurt and said, "You know what. This is fantastic. You worked so hard on this and I bet your teacher is going to be impressed." One could say I wasn't being totally honest, but I think preserving his desire to create is more important than exactness. His writing will improve, if he keeps writing. On another day, I can talk to him constructively about story-lines, etc., but that wasn't the time.
When I tucked him up in bed I said, "You never have to earn my love or my being proud of you. You have that always."
As adults we have to do that for ourselves. We have to be proud of ourselves, not for our achievements which are so arbitrary, but for our efforts and for our courage... for taking risks and for putting ourselves out there. That is where the glory is. I don't care if I am rich or famous, I care that I am I am doing what I am called to do - by a voice from within that is strong when I allow my mind to be quiet. The effort will always be enough for me. I am achieving my potential simply by doing what I am called to do with all of my heart, without concern for its success. Won't you join me and share your passion, too?