Dreams dreams dreams.
They flew in his head around and around, millions of flying colors whizzing about. It was surprising that they didn’t run into each other, that a dismal collapse to the ground like a disorganized array of dominos wasn’t a common occurrence. They just kept flying.
“How to catch one? How to find one? How to focus in and attain one.”
They whizzed and whizzed and whizzed, but the beauty was in the whizzing. The congregation of color, of feeling, of passion and joy. The purpose and potential each whizzing dream gave the future, the wholesome pursuit they created in unison.
“To be a writer, to be a photographer. To create videos, to conduct research, to be a businessman, to live a life of service.”
Each held a life that seemed grand.
Each held a life that seemed special.
“To be famous, to be recognized, to be comfortable, to be fulfilled, to struggle and sip off the secrets of success. To be wholesome, to be philanthropic, to be selfless, to be smart.
To walk down the aisle of some grandiose event, camera lights flashing, press yelling, magazines printing tomorrow’s issue. To feel special in a fleeting, brief but nevertheless special moment. To do things, be things. To be unconventional, unattainable. Unusual and unique.
Or… To pay homage to the fact that life is more than that, that it is less but it is more in knowing the old saying – less is more. To be practical and recognize the truths in common living. That special exists elsewhere, special exists everywhere.”
A common, undying struggle of the ordinary human being. To dream, to tussle in dreams, to writhe in dreams.
“Moments of clarity and moments of illusion. But is it not clarity that keeps you idle? Illusion that makes you chase other things… To be happy. To be happy. That is what we all want. That is what we all have.
If we focus in, understand, and foster it ourselves. I have happiness, we all do. It is right there, with the privilege, with the people, with every moment we are able to live comfortably and firmly.”
A realization he had realized years before and practiced every day. But it felt different now.
“If I have a roof over my head, some money to spend, friends by my side, and a family smiling wide – I am happy. But is that really the question we’re asking ourselves? To be comfortable for our own comfort, to look at the world and think “what makes me happy” – isn’t it kind of selfish? With a lens of secure contentment, what more can conventional bring? What real living exists in idle motions.
What genuine breath is taken in stride of a passion not pursued.”
He began to think harder, but his brows did not curve. Rather, his eyes relaxed, opened wide.
“Maybe it’s more than “happiness”. At the very moment we’re born, we know how to be happy. Warm cookies on a cold December night. Table-side laughter at a family gathering. Yelps of joy within a group of friends. Running around doing things.
We know how to be happy! We already know how to be happy!!! That’s not the question, then. It’s what we want to give the world. How we want to serve meaningful lives. How to create meaningful things.”
“Fuck the conventional” was his pinnacling thought.
If impractical is insane, let’s flourish in insanity.
Written in Davis, California, U.S.A.