As my Mondo Beyondo class concludes, I'm feeling exhilarated by new ideas, exciting possibilities, and - most of all - the dreams I've articulated for myself. I'm also feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. Reading over the journal I've kept throughout the class, I'm struck by the sheer amount and variety of things that interest and inspire me. Things I've never really considered before, but that somehow made their way out of my subconscious mind and into my journal throughout the process. It's a little disorienting, for example, to see the words I want to to learn how to arrange flowers written in my own handwriting. Really? I think to myself. Is that what I want? I'm not sure. It came from somewhere though.
These pages filled with seemingly random tidbits, notes, and half-finished sentences feel significant in a way I can't put my finger on. But I think, in part, it's this: I'm noticing recurring themes - things that seem to pop up, in various forms, over and over again. Things like art + being surrounded by beauty, connecting with nature, creativity, family + community, food + cooking, adventure + travel, and holistic health/wellness. I already knew that these things were important to me in some general and undefined way, so the categories themselves aren't all that revelatory. But to be confronted with *specific* long-buried or never-before-articulated hopes and dreams (such as one of my adventure + travel dreams: become an Outward Bound instructor) is an incredible and slightly terrifying feeling. Talk about an "aha moment." You mean it's totally within my power to identify and pursue the things that are important to me? No one's going to give me permission? No one's going to do it for me? Nothing's stopping me?!?! WHAT?!?!?!?
Ahem. (Like I said...pretty exhilarating stuff.)
I keep coming back to this quote from the oh-so-wise Barbara Kingsolver:
"The very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope."
I want to do the most.
Image via Chris Everard.