I believe that spirituality
is not like a beautiful new shirt
that sits in the back of your closet
waiting for the right occasion
to be worn.
Instead, I believe it to be
More like a favorite ring
worn constantly, through all situations
becoming a part of you
so that when it's not on
you feel like you are missing something.
Friday, January 25, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
Dreamer
Some May Say I’m a Dreamer…
She laughed and called me a “dreamer”. She said it as though I was an adult who had forgotten to put away my childhood toys. I’ve been called that before – and other things, such as idealist, blind optimist, Pollyanna, eternal enthusiast, devoted believer, naïve fool, flower child, utopian devotee, and even a romantic zealot. When I was younger, these words wounded me. I felt defensive as I pointed out instances of when I was pragmatic, level-headed, cynical, and unflinchingly realistic. I would always end my defensive rant with a sharp – witted verbal barb just to emphasize my point. I felt that to be labeled a “dreamer” or similar adjective was something detrimental to my character – as if I didn’t possess the survival skills to navigate life’s uncertain roads. I couldn’t recall one instance when the label of “dreamer” was a compliment to someone – unlike the descriptions of people who were “practical”, “down-to-earth”, “logical” or “analytical”. So I choose to hide my natural nature and began to display the more seemingly desirable qualities mentioned above. As the years passed, I encased my dreamer’s heart in layers of normalness so I could assimilate with the mass majority of those with whom I was surrounded. I assured myself that one day, when appropriate, I would easily unwrap the layers surrounding my dreamer’s heart and would return to my natural dreamer nature. I underestimated how difficult this task would become.
A few years ago I had quite an awakening. I believe most of us do at some point in our lives. An awakening that serves as a catalyst for change as we start to question our lifestyles, loves, and accomplishments. It was at this point that I deemed it an appropriate time to unwrap my heart and return to the idealist that I had always been. I had not anticipated that the layers of normalness had hardened into solid walls of practicality, separated by rooms of fear. I began to slowly chisel away the stone, day by day, as I allowed myself to have lingering thoughts about the possibilities of my life. I began to write again, slowly at first, and I began to have conversations with others, and myself, timidly at first, until the walls started to crumble, brick by brick. I realized that this journey was not without spiritual essence, (I now know that it was required). It took years, but I didn’t give up, determined to reclaim my true nature of trusting myself, others, nature, and guidance from above.
Each day I remind myself of who it is I want to be in this world. Sometimes I stray from this ideal, but I eventually return, some times quicker than others. I now understand that there are more people out there, too, trying to reclaim their dreamer’s hearts, struggling through the difficulty of it. It is my hope that we continue the battle, ban together in this journey searching for our selves – supporting and inspiring each other, laughing, crying, and trusting each other. But most importantly, knowing that to be a dreamer is something special in this world, we hold the hopes of humanity in our hands, something that a pragmatic cannot attain.
She laughed and called me a “dreamer”. She said it as though I was an adult who had forgotten to put away my childhood toys. I’ve been called that before – and other things, such as idealist, blind optimist, Pollyanna, eternal enthusiast, devoted believer, naïve fool, flower child, utopian devotee, and even a romantic zealot. When I was younger, these words wounded me. I felt defensive as I pointed out instances of when I was pragmatic, level-headed, cynical, and unflinchingly realistic. I would always end my defensive rant with a sharp – witted verbal barb just to emphasize my point. I felt that to be labeled a “dreamer” or similar adjective was something detrimental to my character – as if I didn’t possess the survival skills to navigate life’s uncertain roads. I couldn’t recall one instance when the label of “dreamer” was a compliment to someone – unlike the descriptions of people who were “practical”, “down-to-earth”, “logical” or “analytical”. So I choose to hide my natural nature and began to display the more seemingly desirable qualities mentioned above. As the years passed, I encased my dreamer’s heart in layers of normalness so I could assimilate with the mass majority of those with whom I was surrounded. I assured myself that one day, when appropriate, I would easily unwrap the layers surrounding my dreamer’s heart and would return to my natural dreamer nature. I underestimated how difficult this task would become.
A few years ago I had quite an awakening. I believe most of us do at some point in our lives. An awakening that serves as a catalyst for change as we start to question our lifestyles, loves, and accomplishments. It was at this point that I deemed it an appropriate time to unwrap my heart and return to the idealist that I had always been. I had not anticipated that the layers of normalness had hardened into solid walls of practicality, separated by rooms of fear. I began to slowly chisel away the stone, day by day, as I allowed myself to have lingering thoughts about the possibilities of my life. I began to write again, slowly at first, and I began to have conversations with others, and myself, timidly at first, until the walls started to crumble, brick by brick. I realized that this journey was not without spiritual essence, (I now know that it was required). It took years, but I didn’t give up, determined to reclaim my true nature of trusting myself, others, nature, and guidance from above.
Each day I remind myself of who it is I want to be in this world. Sometimes I stray from this ideal, but I eventually return, some times quicker than others. I now understand that there are more people out there, too, trying to reclaim their dreamer’s hearts, struggling through the difficulty of it. It is my hope that we continue the battle, ban together in this journey searching for our selves – supporting and inspiring each other, laughing, crying, and trusting each other. But most importantly, knowing that to be a dreamer is something special in this world, we hold the hopes of humanity in our hands, something that a pragmatic cannot attain.
…But I’m Not the Only One
--Angela Frisby
I Ought to Know
I’m one of those idealistic optimists who will grasp something long after its unused potential has expired. As I’ve aged, it’s been a challenge for me to let go of my perceptions of how things “should” or “ought” to be. Whether it was a friend who “ought” to understand my viewpoint, an employer who “ought” to defend my work, a lawbreaker who “ought” to know better, or someone I loved who “ought” to love me back. Time, offering me the sight of a bigger picture, has helped me understand that to grow, I had to let go of these notions.
I was recently reminded of this lesson when my wayward tabby cat offered a peek at my heart. When he was a kitten, he was very lovable and devoted; the attention he provided was wonderful. However, when he was a few years old, he was hurt and it changed everything about him. He became distrustful and distant, not letting me come within yards of him. I tried to coax him to revert to his previous ways. Over time, he would let me in closer proximity to him, but never less than an arm’s length. I couldn’t understand how a soul could change so drastically and not have an inclination to return back to trusting and loving. In my mind, obstacles only exist for us to fight for and defend our right to freely love and trust. After a year passed, I finally accepted that he had permanently changed, and there was nothing I could do to alter it. I had to adapt my expectation of his behavior, and accept him as he now was, not for something I knew him to once be, or hoped for him.
I realized that I had this same experience when I was younger, with people that I loved. I would cling to the hope that they would revert back to a time where they could freely love and trust, and share that with me. (I saw it happen, but only once-the difference being that person wanted the change before I came along.) Everyone else emotionally struggled with me, tiring of the fight, wanting me to declare surrender and exit the battlefield. As the years passed and I sought self-reflection, I then began to understand that as I changed and expected everyone to accept “the evolved me”, I better understood how others could ask me to accept their altered identity of distance and distrust. In this acceptance, I realized that each day, each of us form who we decide we are, going forward into the future. None of us are ever static, because time has a way of slowing revising us, molding us into the person we either consciously choose to become or letting life’s experiences form our identity. It is in this that I understand the concepts of caring detachment, objective acceptance, and that “ought” can also mean “nothing”.
-- Angela Frisby
I was recently reminded of this lesson when my wayward tabby cat offered a peek at my heart. When he was a kitten, he was very lovable and devoted; the attention he provided was wonderful. However, when he was a few years old, he was hurt and it changed everything about him. He became distrustful and distant, not letting me come within yards of him. I tried to coax him to revert to his previous ways. Over time, he would let me in closer proximity to him, but never less than an arm’s length. I couldn’t understand how a soul could change so drastically and not have an inclination to return back to trusting and loving. In my mind, obstacles only exist for us to fight for and defend our right to freely love and trust. After a year passed, I finally accepted that he had permanently changed, and there was nothing I could do to alter it. I had to adapt my expectation of his behavior, and accept him as he now was, not for something I knew him to once be, or hoped for him.
I realized that I had this same experience when I was younger, with people that I loved. I would cling to the hope that they would revert back to a time where they could freely love and trust, and share that with me. (I saw it happen, but only once-the difference being that person wanted the change before I came along.) Everyone else emotionally struggled with me, tiring of the fight, wanting me to declare surrender and exit the battlefield. As the years passed and I sought self-reflection, I then began to understand that as I changed and expected everyone to accept “the evolved me”, I better understood how others could ask me to accept their altered identity of distance and distrust. In this acceptance, I realized that each day, each of us form who we decide we are, going forward into the future. None of us are ever static, because time has a way of slowing revising us, molding us into the person we either consciously choose to become or letting life’s experiences form our identity. It is in this that I understand the concepts of caring detachment, objective acceptance, and that “ought” can also mean “nothing”.
-- Angela Frisby
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