God Save the Dream.
{Photo: Mel Clark}
I have spent the last week or more properly chasing down my dream.
I’m taking this thing seriously now, all of me. More than a passing fancy, well beyond an idea that became what? A hobby? Something I love to do all the time anyway? It has grown legs. I have been shouting boldly and bravely what it is. Out loud. To other people like you.
This is the big one, that ultimately shaped the idea I have had of myself since I was a wee little slip of a Bohemian. The one I never told everyone I met about, from the time I was 11 and it started to gurgle in my belly.
The one I have defined myself by all along and which has helped to craft my life and my ambitions, my spells and fervent whispers. That dream.
Over the weekend I attended a mind-blowing workshop of extreme relevance to the dream, because the chase is on now. I was inspired, educated, overwhelmed and exhilarated by the various speakers I saw.
I listened to them beaming their realized dreams from the big stage, stepping a room of strapped-in apprentices through the roller-coaster that is the biggest part of the process.
I watched myself and my changing attitude to the notions I have that are associated with this dream. I scribbled down the how-to, the ins and outs, the awful truth and more about my dream and its big shadow, the finely tuned art and science of self-promotion.
I swung wildly and frequently from envisioning myself someday, maybe one day, soon talking about my dreams coming true to the pit of self doubt, of not being good enough to get there any day, any way, soon.
And that’s the thing about dreams. They are so heart-centered and mean much, much more than the world to us. To me.
The possibility of failure loomed like a kind of paralysis that could be fatal. This was good news, as it turned out. Homespun fear, as frankly horrifying as it should be when stirred up by comparison and sprinkled with other voices from inside my head, suddenly became a galvanizing force.
All at once, it became a snowstorm that I could simply pull my hood up against and trudge through as it swirled around and then past me. Those voices, ceasing to have meaning, simply faded.
And so at the close of workshop days, when the thank-you’s were done and I was back out in the fading light, I had an uncommon sense. Something I have been trying to get down for the better part of my whole life. Patience. That virtuous old chestnut. Patience is the dreamer’s prerequisite.
Patience with yourself as you take the steps required to get there, patience with the dream itself as it shifts and changes, patience with your energy for chasing it as it ebbs and flows.
The dream is a living thing and it requires you to thrive. You have to stick with it, stay on it and no matter what, keep it writ large in front of you. Never lose sight of it and remember, no one likes to be rushed.
Feed your dream, because it needs to grow. Make sure your dream is watered, sheltered. Love your dream, because it is the star stuff your soul hungers for every bright day and every dark night. Nurture your dream, because it will wither and die without your constant care and attention.
Talk to your dream and let it share its growing pains with you. Let your dream know that it is loved, through all its incandescent turns and twists.
And as you cradle your dream, make sure that you give yourself these bright gifts too. Your dream cannot be made manifest without its driving force, its humble home, its safe harbor.
Keep some of that time and energy and patience set aside always for the one you know best serves your dream… and that’s you, Dreamweaver, beautiful you.
It is your heart that made the wish. It is your blood and bones and hands and head that will bring your dream to life.
And it is all of us who will stand to benefit from your care and compassion for that bright idea, that once upon a time was just a twinkle in your mind’s sky.
*****
Kerrie Basha is a writer at heart. She is an energy healer and tarot reader by trade, with a penchant for astrology, magic and esoterica. Kerrie runs full moon meditations and consults from her natural therapies practice, Bohemia. Kerrie is a witch and a mother, devoted to the crooked path of the Goddess lit by the moon. Kerrie considers herself blessed to live in Australia’s Hunter Valley with her teenage son and animal familiars, and genuinely believes the Universe whispers to us through the celestial bodies, the movement of animals and the wind in the trees. You can follow her musings via Facebook, on her blog, at LunaRosa, a moonlit movement of which she is a founding contributor, or Instagram.
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