High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘Dreaming’

Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?  You, whose eyes scan along these words now, thinking I must mean somebody else, anybody else.  Has anyone ever told you?

Look at all you have been through!  And still, here you are, diving into the moments, dreaming your dreams, flashing that incredible smile, sighing those sighs, laughing that one-of-a-kind laugh.

I think you’re brave, the way you walk into the mystery of it every day, buoyed by nothing but stories, believing it will all work out, even when none of us has any inkling what is really going on.

Listen, something far more enormous and tender than we can possibly understand looks at you with true eyes and hears you singing your song.  And it whispers your name to me in the wind and says, “Look how beautiful! How beautiful!”

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Beneath the snows, shy violets sleep, dreaming their winter dreams.  Yes, violets, and a thousand other things–worms, bugs, fishes, grasses, flowers—no bigger now than an impulse, an idea, like those that dream within your heart.

It takes time for such miracles to grow, to wend their way into material reality.  They need time’s weight, the press of its minutes against them to condense them into form.

But they will come, and we will revel in them.  Of that you can be sure.  True dreams won’t be denied.

Meanwhile, patient winter lays down her dazzling blanket, laughing quiet lullabies that sound like twinkling stars.

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I step out of my dream—the one where I’m planning supper, reminding myself to get gas, thinking about the job I need to finish tomorrow—and wake to flowers.  Flowers!  Imagine!

Muted afternoon light pours in the window, casting soft shadows on their petals.  And outside, lacy snowflakes fall soft as duck down on the grass.

They could have slipped right past me, the snowflakes, the flowers.  It’s not as if they suddenly appeared.  The snow had been falling for hours.  The flowers had been on my table for days.

But now, as if some genie had suddenly snapped his fingers, I am awake and seeing them as if for the very first time, and I am stunned by their beauty.

Remember the Land of Let’s Pretend that you visited as a child?  All you had to do was turn to your imagination and it would whisk you away to any world at all.

You could be a rock star, a cowboy, a princess, a lion.  You could fly through space or gallop across the desert on the bare back of your mighty steed. The stories were endless and oh so very real.  And your friends would be there with you, playing right along.

What if you visited Let’s Pretend again?  What if you dreamed a magical tomorrow, set a couple, three years in the future?  What if you painted it with all your fondest dreams and saw them in three dimensions, in living color with a state-of-the-art soundtrack to boot?

Imagine!  You had put all your best talents to work, had played your hardest at keeping your goals in mind.  Opportunities, resources, ideas and connections had materialized like magic, as if invisible hands were guiding you on your way.

And now, there you were, in just the place you wanted to be, confident and serene, doing the things you most wanted to do, surrounded by people who made your heart sing.  What would it look like?  How would it feel?  Can you see it?  Can you imagine?  Do you have the audacity to dream such a dream?

“Momma!  When can I come out and play?” the little aster called.  “All the other buds have opened.  I want to come out, too!”

The little bud was frustrated.  She felt the sun’s warmth on her outer petals and heard the oooo’s and ahhhh’s of the other buds as they opened to its light.  But here she was, still curled tight.

She wanted so much to be a full-fledged flower.  Every morning when the birds sang their dawn song, she woke expecting to find herself unfurled and free.

“You will open soon enough, my darling,” the mother said.  “Remember, time is wise and always does things in the right order.”

“But Momma, I’m tired of being a bud.  I want to know what it’s like to unfold and stretch my petals.”

“I know, dear,” crooned the mother.  “And a flower you will be.  A sweet one, full of nectar for the bees and dancing in the sun.  But right now, your job is to be a bud, the very best bud you can be.

“Do you feel that wiggling in your little petals?” she asked.

“Yes,” said the bud.  “It kind of tickles.”

“That’s a sign that you’re growing.  You’re itching to grow.  And do you feel your heart filling up with golden nectar?  You’re building up a store of treats to share with the world and to make seeds for the all tomorrows that will come.  Who you are right now is very, very important.  Pay attention to everything you feel.  Isn’t it filled with life?”

“You’re right!” the little bud giggled.  “It is!”

“And it’s just exactly the life that nature designed you to express,” said the mother.  “I know it can be difficult to wait for what comes next, but who you are right now is a miracle, my sweet one.  Be at peace, and I will tell you a story about what it’s like to be a grown up flower.  You can dream about that as you grow.  Dreaming about how you will be tomorrow is a fine way to spend time when you feel stuck with where you are.  Would you like to hear the story?”

The little bud relaxed and felt the life force moving within her and thought about being a miracle, and about being the best bud she could be.  “Yes, mother!” she whispered as she eased into the comfort of her curled petals.  “Tell me the story.”

“Once upon a time,” the mother began, “a sweet little bud was born, filled with all she needed to become a radiant wild aster . . .”