Years settle deep. Lines carved within the years weaning, faded into the work resembling him. Days push back. Bones creak at the sound of dreams demanding.:::::::::::
In regard to dreams (i.e., life’s ambition), there is a foretelling difference between those who wield their dreams, owning and shaping them perfectly and others who are slaves to their dreams, owned by them.
::slave Dream, ambition, goal, reach and the pursuit of, owns the whole, the man. Happiness and value are found in the work and accomplishment.
::owner The man remains a man apart from the dream.
Each man wants to make a difference, find significance and give cause to their existence. No one aspires to exist as a shadow. We reach because we want.
One day we find it, the dream. A worthy pursuit deserving of our effort and affections. One that gives meaning to our days and strength in our steps. The discovery (and pursuit) of the dream finds us, unlocking more of ourselves than we’ve ever known. We work longer and harder, tirelessly accomplishing and reaching. During late nights and earlier mornings a diligence to the dream forges and we are connected to a sense of meaning that touches our soul.
Tirelessly we work and trade time for another step closer to the dream. We work. We think. We rethink. We obsess ...and craft and tool our dream.
All the while accomplishing more and drawing closer, somewhat.
We immortalize the dream and the dream becomes us. Our words, our thoughts, our relationships, all owned by our dream. Somewhere along positions are traded and the dream drives us. All that we are and hope to become hangs on and is validated by the dream.
The dream is not enemy.
For the past two weeks, I’ve been much busier than usual. We moved into a new house which required time after my work day and ran late into the evenings. There are still mountains of boxes to unpack. After long days, the last thing I wanted to do, or was mentally able to do, was write. Work on my book halted even though first round editing is now complete. My blog stagnated and quieted to an activity-less silence.
I felt diminished and guilty, even depressed. Not a word written.
As a writer, still insecure in the dream and admission of being an actual writer, not writing for two weeks caused all sorts of emotion, most of which pointed back to some derivative of failure. Thoughts of shelving the book unfinished and abandoning plans of my writing career were constant all because my dream wasn’t being given proper attention.
Here’s the reflective bottom line. Never should your dream, no matter the brilliance or genius, own you ...or your time ...or your worth.
If your dream owns you, your affections, your motive, your emphasis and all desire, you are slave to it; a thought, an image or a goal, your master.
You must own the dream in every way.
I need time to rest from my pursuit and determine the pace at which I will run after and toward it.
My dream is writing. Yours may very well be something different. Whatever it is, it is yours: own it. Don’t serve it.
{{Matthew 6:34, The Message}}