When Dreams Refuse to Stay Quiet

Forest path
Follow the dream-journey of one woman who wants it all and wants others to reclaim their own dreams. You may find within this story a seed for your life’s dream or remember a dream you forgot you had.

I quit my State job on April 2nd 2009. I somehow did this while living in the worst economic “downturn” since the “Great Depression,” and right after Mary and I had just finished building a house.

I had come to a place in my life-journey when the very things I carried in my backpack for survival, a job with health insurance, a regular paycheck and the deep comfort of familiarity, had become the very things that had whispered me into a dreamless sleep. I slowly woke up and when I did I was mad and I was sad. And I did not see a way out. My anger came from a very deep place because I had worked too hard and fought for a long time with a clawing diligence for a life of creative and healing work to now sit in an office moving paper from one side of my desk to the other. I drove to work everyday, got there and worked my eight to five, had my 15 minute breaks, tried to ignore office gossip and keep myself out of the maelstrom office drama and my spirit sighed every single day. I wanted to live fully and my spirit yearned for the freedom of its potential. I said this to my partner, my friends, co-workers and myself more times than I realized and it is only in retrospect that I see how patient they all were as I groaned my feelings of entrapment and confusion.

Comfort and safety of health insurance, a consistent paycheck and the most powerful sleep drug of them, all-familiarity had almost lulled me asleep. But a small spark of rebellion and hope slowly burned me awake until I could not bear another day. Some jobs feed the spirit and others can suck the juice out of a rock. In a movement like the flight of moths in Barbara Kingsolver’s book, Prodigal Summer, I moved, “in zig-zags toward the source” not really knowing what that source was then to discover it is the source within me that had remained loyal for my return. I zig-zagged in the unaccustomed flight of someone who had too often moved in the world reaction and fear toward a peace that spoke in just the right tone of voice for me to hear the instruction to move toward the exit sign of that office building Those three giants, health insurance, a consistent paycheck and familiarity, lost their powerful grip on my destiny.

I had a dream a inside of me. And as strange as it sounds, I had the added burden of not knowing what the dream really was. It was formless on the day I walked out of that office building, but within the core center of its formlessness was a passion for four things: writing, using video as a form documenting our lives, assisting humans on a journey of reclamation and for being a witness to that reclamation. after years of seeking, finding, forgetting, remembering, learning, and prayer, my time had come to allow those passions to live. I had worked for twenty years to rediscover MYSELF, the SELF I had long ago abandoned and I had a desire and passion to assist others in their journey toward their own self-reclamation. I knew the expansion of a life lived with a reclaimed me and knew others hungered for that freedom as well. There was a “Yes” living vibrant along the edges of that passion to make all of this come together and all I had to do was agree to that yes. More later…

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