Dream On

Dream On — A Grace Notes Reflection

On persistence, purpose, and the stubborn hope that refuses to quit.

“We dreamers have our way of facing rainy days.” — from I Made It Through the Rain, performed by Barry Manilow.

What medicine can be prescribed to hope, to trust, and to that tender adornment we call “belief” that allows one to dream on? I am stretching my quotient of fortitude to herald the possibility of life purpose. I am struggling in this incarnation to actualize my dream and embrace my life purpose.

Holding on to light, even when skies are heavy.

In my likeness of being, I am very aware, understanding, sympathetic, and emotionally cognizant of why I am and whose I am. I do not underestimate gratitude for the blessings. The maladies of poor health—crises of unbearable proportions—disease, disasters, and unconscionable pain that we as a community of living share are mirrors of my own self-indulgence. Yet the I is ever in struggle, and I want to taste that sense of accomplishment and completion.

From the many rags-to-riches stories; from “once was blind, now I see”; from the spiritual journey to faith; from victories wrested from the desert of despair—the world is engorged with a profusion of those who have walked their paths and reached their worldly nexus. The distribution of what can be amassed remains disproportionately imbalanced, and I find that struggle burdensome.

Our generations—post-baby-boom, Gen X, millennials—are inundated with maps to purpose, prosperity, posterity, and social definition. The philosophy of being is commerced with possibility. We dream to be.

Marilyn Monroe lived her life shadowed by the farce of beauty and hypersensitive sensuality. Michael Jackson caricatured his artistry under veils of fantasy. Steve Jobs, supreme guru of i-being, proliferated reachability with touch and sound. Martin Luther King Jr. prophetically rendered “I Have a Dream,” and in witness to his dream, a President Barack Obama emerged.

What the mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve. The cornucopia of beingness is accessible and available. From eBay to Amazon, any purchaseable item sits seconds from ownership—subject to disposable income. The creation of billionaires has increased exponentially. From AOL—the almost extinct dinosaur of internet entrée—to Google’s playground of virtual connectivity, we constantly woo, exchange, and disseminate. Our minds keep wanting—dreaming—more.

With Facebook, LinkedIn, and other social platforms, we invite ourselves to discuss and relate with family, friends, strangers, the public—about every nuance shaping our beingness. At my discretion, like managing a food palette, I can be aggressively consumptive in virtual engagement. Beyond my meanderings, public pronunciations, confessions, and demonstrations of poetic license, my desire to understand more of the whole keeps me curiously engaged.

Oprah shows the majestic possible. Her wealth, achievement, and accomplishments testify to empowerment. She dreamed she would be bigger than her beginnings; I salute the richness of that demonstration. Tyler Perry uses myriad challenges that would have stalled even daring dream-seekers to demonstrate the power of what can be—the “If” factor—offering his gift cloaked in humor and welcomed prosperity.

When T. D. Jakes describes the beginnings of his journey to becoming one of the most successful leaders in ministry, it resonates with dream and belief potency. Wayne Dyer, Caroline Myss, Marianne Williamson, and a burgeoning army of spiritual intuitives echo self-awakening, ascension, and resurrection. For the flock of the faithful, believing is the serum of salvation. Quotes fly, seminars sell out, feeds fill; everyone holds a lantern for desire.

With my posts, I remain in wonder—writing my life examination. The tests refine the given toward the desired. What I wished could have been, hasn’t. The gift of understanding the dilemma of my existence can feel shackled to disappointment.

As the blueprint of life unravels without a success roadmap within reach, inspiration and aspiration can feel unrealistic. Nonetheless, a drama unfolds, and the script is being perfected. I wrestle with the burden of embracing what is not mine to have. Without the measures of wealth, success, and the things I dream will unleash my inexhaustible potential—without tangible expressions of security, without dividends for all my experience—I would not be me.

Even under misfortune’s gaze, I celebrate that I am unfinished. In the dearth of the unexplainable—the “dark night of the soul,” as Caroline Myss describes—I passionately desire to be more.

For all who are conflicted, torn, even a little mad with longing—the work remains: keep faith with the dream. Dream on.

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Soundtrack: “I Made It Through the Rain” (Barry Manilow). Hear the spirit of this post: Watch on YouTube.