“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

9.13.2009

The House of Impractical Dreams

Where I hang my hat.

I am up this morning feeling insecure, blah, boring, yada, yada, yada,  reading other blogs, admiring the soft photographs, the soft colors, the perfectly well-written words, the self assurance emanating from all these wonderful women and wanting to remove my post of late last night, which reads so much of just trying so hard when I really had nothing to say.  A description of my pjs?  What was I thinking?

I had a phone call from a friend yesterday - overly educated, titled, well paid, sure she needs a change in her life.  As do we all, I told her, especially this summer.  Something is in the air, I said, possibly the planets have aligned in a certain position, but we are all feeling it, we are all moving towards ourselves.  We are opening up, and though I felt she didn't want to hear that it wasn't just her, I said it anyway, it being true.  There is something going on, I know you  feel it too, feel the ground rumbling a bit from all this movement taking place, just beginning.  Some of us seem to know exactly what we want, some of us have ideas, many - like my friend - just want something different.

I have an idea - I've had an idea for years,  but lately I feel possibilities open up as I feel myself unfurl - but it is not something for right now, it is something I am working toward, but in that conversation with my friend, she mentioned that her options at age 51 were different than her options were in her 30s, that her dreams must  be different because of her age.  I would agree if her dream was to become pregnant, but I was stopped for a moment by her insistence that we must have sensible  dreams now that we have grown older;  I will be 56 in November and my  dreams feel less  sensible, more caution thrown to the wind, more risky, more fun, more what-I-really-want, more the feeling if not now, when?  I read other blogs, many of them referenced way up in that first paragraph, and it is sometimes hard to hold onto what I want, what I feel, what I like; it is easy to feel that everyone else's style is the best, their  words, their  images the way I  should write, the way I  should photograph.  It is hard to hold onto me.  And during that phone conversation, even though I knew my friend to be wrong, even though I know her to be overly cautious, I felt twinges of self doubt, felt that perhaps she was right, that it was too late.  This morning I don't feel that so much - my sister-in-law's sister was hospitalized last night, a serious condition, she younger than I, and that has made me know once again that it doesn't matter, you just have now, however old you are at now.

And so I found this picture - taken with my phone a bit ago, at work, The Emma Tree dressed for summer, wearing nothing but lights, that crazy blue wall I had to have, that hat I actually never wear, but bought for the color, to hang as decoration, and it made me smile, so full of silliness, of impractical dreams.  My house is much the same.  This morning, Sunday, September 13, I hereby christen  it "The House of Impractical Dreams", make it official, and I will paint a painting, silly and crazy, the corners not meeting correctly, and windows left open for the birds to fly in, silver paintings propped against the walls, words tacked to the walls, tied to pieces of furniture with ribbon, stacks of pillows, blue and aqua and white, stripes everywhere, messes and stacks of books and it is me,  it is no one else.  Suddenly I feel okay with last night's post - why not  describe my pjs? - and I am feeling better about my style, whatever that may be.

How arrogant, you are no doubt thinking, although I really think you probably aren't,  I really think you oh-so-much  get it, that you understand totally. I think you would embrace my impractical dreams with me. I think you might smile at them, maybe laugh, nod, tell me to just go for them.

I will.

13 comments:

  1. i.
    am.
    nodding.
    ...
    yes.
    truth.
    in.
    that.
    post.

    ReplyDelete
  2. i live in a house exactly like yours

    and you inspire me greatly ~ you feel so alive and ignited and curious and persistent in your recognition that all is possible

    and you always

    always

    know exactly what to say so I
    run
    out
    the
    door
    inspired with brand new ideas
    and new points of departure

    ReplyDelete
  3. i do totally get it. i'm ready for the possibilities and impractical dreams to come true.
    i say got for it.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I'd like to read the pj post, it was probably interesting
    O O
    ^
    \_/
    U

    ReplyDelete
  5. I so much get it. You know I do. You know we all do. The House of Impractical Dreams. Well, my friend, I think you have a title for your first book. Oh, I really think you do.

    As to your home... Please tell me that when I get out your way again, I can meet the lovely Katie. And sit for a while looking at all your aqua and white, staring at your silver paintings. That I can coax Maggie into my lap for a cuddle. That I can walk around reading the words you've scattered everywhere, and sneak a few of my own into odd place for you to find later.

    Yes. That's my impractical dream.

    Let's both just go for them. For all of them.

    You know, of course, that I am nodding as I type this. Don't you?

    ReplyDelete
  6. Oh how I needed your wise words today.

    With 52 right around the corner and my youngest off to college, I am examining and re-examing my place in the world and my dreams. And I notice my comfort zone shrinking. And I don't like it. I keep thinking that "the best me was yesterday" or that I just don't have the energy for big dreams anymore and this saddens me beyond words.

    But your post has given me a refreshing new breath of life and perspective on my future path. I mean, hell, look at Grandma Moses!

    ReplyDelete
  7. Try as I might to leave a comment last night, this comment box would not open for me.
    So I left it. Til now.
    I feel like you everyday. When I post I wonder why, as I find what I have to say trivial and non-relevant in the face of such bigger issues in the world people could be reading about. Yet, when I come here to read you, I find such an emotional connection to what you have written, it is like we've sat down for tea together. Debi your posts include such a human element-you leave me feeling. That is a good thing. xoxo
    p.s. I love reading about P.J.s and other such things.

    ReplyDelete
  8. I love this post. I think impractical dreams are the most important, the biggest, the most YOU. Reminds me of this poem:
    http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/warning/

    ReplyDelete
  9. Absolutely, mi amor! Go for it! I love this post, it reminds us that dreams should not be safe and boring - they should be impractical, over-the-moon, pie-in-the-sky dreams otherwise what is the point?!

    The bigger the better, paint about it, write about, and most certainly LIVE it!

    :-)

    (((hugs))),
    love,
    me

    ReplyDelete
  10. You MUST know, it's NEVER too late. Ever. And I do feel the stir of the universe. I just don't know what to do about it.

    sl

    ReplyDelete
  11. that is exactly what I would tell you "just go for it" The older I get the clearer it becomes, "tomorrow never happens man" all there is is right now.
    xo
    S

    ReplyDelete
  12. oh yes, I oh-so-much get it. =) And I think this is so fantastically wonderful and inspiring. I am very shy, and it is so easy to allow myself to be led, to let my personality and unique thoughts be submerged when someone even slightly more dominant comes along, but there is a wonderful poem I am always trying to live by: Cakes Continue to Rise by Rick Agran. The poem ends like this: "Give me the lollipop of life, and I promise, I will run with it in my mouth."

    ReplyDelete

come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .