I keep having these strange prophetic dreams that actually come true. My husband told me I should concentrate on dreaming about the Royals winning the world series, but as hard as I tried, I did not dream about it. It seems they didn’t need my dream help anyway.
Last night I had a dream that someone approached me about my writing, telling me how much it meant. Actually, this happens in real life quite often, and I’m taken aback at times at how my writing seems to connect with others. I’m not particularly writing for other people; I write because it’s like a compulsion.
And, to be honest, sometimes I really dislike it. It’s incredibly uncomfortable, to put down words to your thoughts in a given moment in time – because when it’s printed, it becomes available and permanent – and I am not permanent. I am ever changing. Something I wrote a few months ago, while very true for me in that moment, might be completely different for me today. I dislike the idea of commitment and I dislike even more that little pieces of me are scattered and available for people to see, which may not even be particularly true when it reaches them.
Sometimes this stops me from writing, and sometimes this makes me delete things I have written. But recently people have been approaching me about things I have written with good feedback. And then last night I had a dream, and to be honest I don’t remember the particulars, but I remember that the intent of the dream was to tell me to keep writing, to keep being public, and putting myself out there.
I kind of grumbled and brushed it off when I woke up, but I don’t think it’s coincidence. I struggle to integrate everything together; I want to share these pieces of myself more publicly, to integrate them with my career, but there’s also that element of terror. People can be so judgmental. And this gives fuel for those to judge me before I even get a chance to meet them in person.
But it’s been 95% good. It’s been 95% connection and understanding, and only 5% judgement and anger – which of course, is the easier part to hold onto.
It would be really easy to give it up, to hide, to stop writing and just do my thing on my own, but I don’t know that I really have that choice at this point. It seems like the wimpy way out. And while I would classify myself as rather wimpy, and giving up easily when things get tough – I don’t think I’m supposed to here. I mean, I had a dream about it after all.
But why couldn’t my destiny have been to do something like computer engineering? Something totally non-interesting to most people and not vulnerable and less like ripping my heart out and putting it in words for the world to see. Ugh.
I wonder if musicians feel the same? If they hate singing songs they wrote ten years ago because it’s not them anymore, but it’s what the people want and that’s how they make their money…? Any musicians want to chime in here?
(P.S. More on Economics of Being a Yoga Teacher to come, but it’s not ready yet. Or rather, I’m not ready yet. It will happen though.)