What does it take to achieve our dreams?
I’ve always wished it was like a magic spell —
just a lit candle, a chant, and a swish of a wand
or the bubble of a brew:
poof! All your dreams, manifested.
The hard part about becoming an adult
is when becoming an adult doesn’t come with
a large starter package of cash
with monthly installments of thousand or more
(free, no loans!)
until all your dreams have been realized.
I won’t bore anyone with descriptions of
my numerous attempts at realizing my dreams,
only to be discouraged, or distracted, or
too stressed, sad, and scared
to conceive of going on.
I’ve always been the kind of person
who has to be all-in,
or not at all.
If I can’t jump in head-first and swim perfectly,
Or, I try, and find I’m drowning.
So I’m not trying to swim in waters
I know I can’t, anymore.
I’m going back to the kiddie pool.
I’m going back to the beginning,
back to where I started,
twelve years ago in my bedroom
on a cold autumn night:
hands on knees,
Everything (my cards, books opened at random, conversation had
and conversations overheard) have been telling me
to just meditate. Nothing else. Just do that one thing.
I’ve been ignoring the signs.
Ignoring my inner self, actually.
My inner self does not like being ignored.
So it gave me anxiety, and a fever, and
muscle pain and headaches and
hives, itchy itchy hives.
All sure-fire signs of my psyche telling me to
chill. the fuck. out.
So I am.
I’m done ignoring.
I’m done trying to swim in waters I’m not prepared to swim in.
I’ve made a request to the Universe.
In circle, and then later in bed with
my dear bard’s arms around me,
I repeated to the cosmos,
every time I’m stressing about anything
no matter what
just say three words, loud and unignorable, in my mind:
just. sit. down.
I promise, in return,
I’ll listen. Every time.
No matter where I am —
at work, at the library,
on the sidewalk, in the store,
in my apartment, in the woods,
on the bike path, at the playground,
at a concert, at a party,
in front of people I’m afraid of judging me —
I will listen to your three words.
I will sit down, and I will breathe.
And from there,
perhaps I can find a way.
But I can’t go into the water
Even on my tip-toes,
I must be aware
of just my breath,
just its rise and fall,
just its ebb and flow,