I could pass entire days dreaming. I mean, I’m a novelist. It’s what I do. I dream up worlds and stories and characters. But sometimes… Sometimes those dreams get a little out of control. Sometimes I forget to draw the line between fantasy and reality. Sometimes I really do spend entire days dreaming, and I don’t feel that my life has benefited from it.
Ever heard the phrase “too much of a good thing”? Dreams can be like that. While they are an absolute vital part of our existence, you can get so wrapped up in them that they cease to be a good thing.
Because it’s hard to dream and do at the same time. If all you’re doing is envisioning the future, but not taking the steps necessary to get there, you have a problem. A big problem. You’re stuck in a rut. Your dreams are stale. And I wonder…
I wonder what you’re doing about Right Now.
Because, once upon a time, I used to wake up in the morning and tell myself to live the journey. I’d whisper the words of a Steven-James-penned poem to myself as I went throughout my day. Live the Journey. Live. Because I used to believe in embracing the moments and grasping the now that slipped so quickly through my fingertips. But then I forgot. I got so caught up in the future that I forgot to leave room for the now.
I tell myself over and over again to slow down and let life catch up, and sometimes I do. Sometimes I stop to breathe and look around me and revel in the beauty of my life here and now. But sometimes I’m too caught up in forever to care about what happens day to day.
And I feel that life is one, endless cycle of me getting it right only to find that I’ve gotten it wrong. And my journals are full of scribbled pleas to remember what is truly important. That I’m going to miss forever if I don’t learn to embrace the now.
Because I realize there is so much I don’t know about forever. It’s unpredictable. Unable to be grasped and labeled and categorized and tucked safely away into a box where I can control it. But right now… Right now is within my reach, and maybe it won’t stay forever. Maybe it will flicker like a firefly–here for a season, gone the next. Maybe it will lift itself up on butterfly wings and float away on the breeze. But maybe… Maybe before it goes, it will first dance its way into my heart, leaving footprints on my memory of a life well lived.
Because, yes, I don’t know much of anything about forever, but I know what’s in front of me right now. And I know I need to slow down and simply breathe in right now. And I know it’s my duty–my God-given duty–to live right now.
So here’s to letting go of forever.