The Dreams, The voyage, The Struggle

Once upon a time, I used to scribble ideas and write random pieces and think and speak with so much depth. 

Once upon a time I was so inspired by the places I went and people I saw and I soaked up experiences like a sponge and told of those experiences, effortlessly. 

Once upon a time I dreamt and imagined and was not ashamed of my dreams and imaginations and I could speak of them boldly and write of them fluidly.

Once upon a time I learned the art of poetry and let my thoughts fill pages with words, who's meaning I had to learn for the sake of the art.

Once upon a time, I was fascinated by the stars and constellations; by planets and meteors; by science and astrology and astronomy and greek myths and legends.

Once upon a time, the sweet caress of the morning breeze put a smile on my face and tingled my synapses and made my heart beat a rhythme of happiness.

Once upon a time, I was inspired...everything had a story, a meaning, a purpose; I was eager and fascinated to learn about them. I was immersed in the journey of knowing and being. 

I was inspired.

Then LIFE happened.

I grew up and had to become an adult by social standards.

I grew up and had to stop being a dreamer...I had to stay awake and live.

I grew up and plunged myself into the realities of my existence and found that there was no room for my dreams.

But still I dreamt and lived and tried to balance it all. Sometimes I excelled and more times I failed but I never stopped trying. I lived and dreamt and some saw and thought I was living the dream. I started to think I was living the dream. Then the dream started to change and grow and pixelate and fade and change and  change and the dream became a dream within itself.

Still I lived and dreamt and tried to balance it all. 

Balance it all and then balance that with what some saw.

Some told me I inspired them and it felt extra ordinary...that my struggle could make another person feel better and keep moving was a privelledge I didn't take for granted.

And then I started to care. 

It was no longer just me and my dreams and my word and my struggle.

It became all that and what others would rather have me be, me dream, me say and me struggle with.

At this point, I stopped dreaming.

I lived and balanced it all...my life, my old dreams and what was expected of me.

I struggled. I lived. 

Some saw and applauded for they thought I was living the dream.

Some saw and hated for they thought I was living the dream.

Some saw and snarled and cursed and schemed and waited for the dream they thought I was living to come crashing down.

Some saw and snarled and cursed and schemed and waited for the dream they thought I was living to turn into a nightmare.

And then LIFE continued to happen.

I kept moving, full speed ahead...too fast, too soon.

I hit a brick wall and found myself between a huge rock and hard place.

My choice was either the devil or the deep blue sea.

I chose the sea.

And as I sought the courage to swim through, I grappled with my old dreams.

I tried to find the scene which I last dreamt

Then I tried to truly live the dream

And I failed.

But I kept swimming...I still am.

Ask any voyager you meet...it is an uphill task to keep a dream alive when you are out in the ocean, on a ship that's threatening to capsize, strong winds blowing in all directions but the one you want to go and with no compass with which to ensure that the direction you choose is right. It is an uphill task. And many who have tried it have been lost...some, lost for way too long.

All around me, all I see is the ocean.

At first, the greenish blue hue was fascinating

At first, the gentle undulating waves were calming

At first, I could hear voices from the shore; never mind what they said, I could hear them and that was alright.

It all inspired me....the ocean, the waves, the voices...everything.

As I swam farther in, I got tired.

Exhausted.

Afraid.

Bored.

Lost.

I tried to make these new realities inspire me.

I failed.

I tried again and again and again.

And each time I succeeded in feeling more and allowing more in

And then I would fail.

I would tell myself that I gained...a new approach, a new lesson, a new realisation, a new strength.

I would tell myself that I believed in what I gained.

I would tell myself that I would be inspired by it all.

And then I would fail.

It is an uphill task to find inspiration when you are in the middle of a turbulent sea...when you are now bored by the once fascinating colours and crave still waters to calm your spirits and struggle to remember the sounds of the voices from the shore. It is harder to find inspiration when you hear a few voices from the ocean and wonder if these voices will lead to a new shore. 

I won't stop swimming.

I hope I won't drown.

I hope I won't be lost for way too long.

I hope that when I find my shore, I will dream new dreams again.

I hope that while I am at sea my old my dreams will be my light house

I hope that when I find my shore, my voyage will be an inspiration

I hope that while I am at sea my spirit stays alive to dream another day.

Image Credit: mollymook ocean swimmers