When you're young, people always ask what you want to be when you grow up. And if you say you don't know, then they tell you to imagine having all the money you possibly could need, and asking what you would do then.
As if that made it any easier.
I never really knew what to answer when I was little. When I was young enough to still believe in magic, but old enough to know that adults didn't, I would shrug and say nothing, meanwhile dreaming of exploring different worlds, shape-shifting, flying, meeting bizarre creatures both evil and benign. When I was old enough to no longer believe in magic, but still wish I did, I dreamed of writing stories, the only place magic could exist, and I could explore and create any world I wanted. In my brief moments of realism, I thought of a farm in the country I could one day own, with horses and dogs and chickens and freedom and peace and quiet. That could even fit in with the writing. When I was old enough to realize there's no such thing as freedom and peace, and recognized the sadnesses of world, I thought about making them better, about fixing them. Often times, that seemed as far-fetched as the fairytale worlds I dreamed of years before.
As for many people, I believe, my dreams were always far from reality, which is what made them interesting, and desirable. But it also made life hard. Accepting that I would never discover another world, or fly, or disappear into a book, was devastating to my elementary-school self. Losing my ideals of peace and freedom was another loss, one I'm still not sure I've completely accepted. And accepting that I can't fix all the sadnesses of the world still breaks my heart.
Having only ever dreamed of things impossible, and lost them, I rebelled, and decided not to dream anything else. I went through much of high school and college living almost entirely in the present, or the past. I did what I liked, and imagined that later, things would sort themselves out, and I would discover new dreams. After all, dreams aren't things you can seek and then find; you can only keep your wits about you and hope that you come along them sooner or later, and that when they find you, you will be prepared to accept them. (Not that I was quick to accept that. I, along with most everyone I knew, joined the collective panic of what-will-I-do-with-my-life during the latter half of my college career. I just chose the path of things I liked learning at the time, and more or less postponing any decision-making).
Which is why, when I finally came upon a dream, I was both startled and amazed. I was elated, because living without dreams is only a shadow of life, which you can only realize when you've gone without, and then found them.
I don't mean to say here that for the past six or eight years I've lived without wanting to do anything. Quite the contrary in fact. For the most part I've lived with more things I wanted to do than there was time in a lifetime. I've thought about improving my dancing, writing stories, reading books, learning new dance forms, traveling, gardening, learning to cook, starting a family, biking, sailing, hiking, climbing, skiing, drawing, taking a photography class, watching movies, spending time with family and friends, playing games, exploring, and more.
As wonderful as all those things are, and as much as I love them, if I spent my life doing nothing but those things, I would still feel like something was missing. I would still wonder what I had accomplished, and search for that feeling I'd had as a child, the feeling that not only could I do anything I wanted, but there was something that needed to be done, and I was the one to do it. Something compelling. Something important.
And now, for the first time, I feel like I could answer that question. The one about what I would do if everything were taken care of for me.
I was going to share, but it's not really important, except to me. The most important thing isn't what the dream is, it's just that I have one. I feel passionate and excited about not just next weekend, or next summer, but about the rest of my life. Perhaps there are people who can live without that feeling, and for whom happiness in their daily life is a matter of doing little things with quality, without the need for any greater intention or purpose in their work and their life. I am not one of those people, although I still try to find as much happiness as possible in the present moment, and try to do everything with quality.
I believe that there is nothing more important than right now, but if there were it would be right now meaning something tomorrow.
