The last day of the year is the time not only to take stock, but also to make wishes for the next year. But how much, every year, we devote less and less time to our dreams, and the New Year itself has turned from a holiday into the most merciless deadline.
If you imagine that the last day of the year is not the finish line and not the overall standings in the race for success, but simply the day when you can do nothing, look back, say thank you and boldly make something for the future, what would you make ( a)?
There is such a simple exercise when you draw a rhombus, signing each of its vertices according to four areas of life: body, contacts, personal development and fantasies. After that, you sign inside the rhombus how much percent of the energy you spend on each of them. The test is extremely simple. As a result, you, in the ideal case, will get 25% on each vertex, +/- 5%.
And so, doing this exercise, I realized that I had not dreamed about anything for a long time. The sphere of fantasies and dreams has left my life. Plans, schedules, schedules took over. Dreams seem to be something very naive, which has no place in such a tough, pragmatic world that does not stop, but only picks up speed.
Well, what dreams, I'm not a child anymore. It seems that I only dream about sleep and vacation. Such a sad but helpful awareness. I wondered why dreams have lost their relevance and what a person can dream in the middle of life.
Perhaps by the age of 30 some critical mass of experience of unfulfilled hopes and dreams is accumulating? We learned that dreaming is pointless, you need to plan, aim, and then work hard and hard for a long time. While dreams themselves are a deep resource and a powerful stimulus that fills life. Often dreams do not come true, because we dream about what we need, and not about what is really ours, what we want. We were taught to dream about an apartment, a car, a promotion, a family, good relations with family and awareness. Dreaming of going to the gym to find the body of a dream, and then dreaming of someone touching him. Although, perhaps, all that is really dreamed of is to get a divorce, quit, send relatives to hell, sell an apartment and go to live in an eco-settlement and indulge in polyamory in holy poverty. Change your prestigious job to work as a teacher in a regular school. Get 20 cats, not waiting for old age. Or just stop finally being comfortable and constantly like people. This is not what we are taught to dream about, but dreams with limitations are an oxymoron.
And dreams do not come true, because we are not really devoted to them. And here we are not talking about perseverance and effort, but about the ability to "dive headlong." We cannot completely surrender to the dream, and sometimes even just realize and verbalize it. We are afraid that the dream will not come true, and the desired will not happen. But nothing scares us like the possibility of realizing the desired.
We are often paralyzed when the dream is very close, when all the signs indicate: this can happen, it is already happening. It is at this moment that we draw the withdrawal scenario in our heads – only to never face the loss of what we want. After all, it is one thing to never have something, and quite another to have and lose.
We either simply don’t go towards what we want, or we so carefully draw the scenario of failure that it becomes our main one, driving the dream far to the side. We question the reality of fulfillment, depreciate the dream itself and are distracted by any other possibilities.
We decide not to go on a desert expedition on the other side of the world until we finish another mediocre project. Do not engage in the dream business, preferring simple and safe activities with good rewards, so that later, later, be sure to do this. Only this “later” does not come.
So just let you dream, right today, on New Year's Eve. Write all your dreams on a sheet, set fire, pour ashes into a glass with sparkling wine. Drink in one gulp without hesitation. Everything will come true. I believe. And you?
See also: Saturday column: Toxic games that lovers play