It's late and tonight my thoughts are restless.
Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think
Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink
The years go by, as quickly as you wink
Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think
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Why wait until you have $X,000,000? Why wait until you have the right partner? Why wait until external conditions are "just right"? Why wait until there's almost no time left? WHY WAIT TO START LIVING YOUR DREAM AND DESIGNING YOUR LIFE?
Remember what Langston Hughes said about Dreams Deferred:
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
So why are we afraid of our dreams? Why are we afraid to dream big? Why would anyone rather stay in the stale static muck of the familiar and ignore their instincts for greatness, and their desires to do more, have more, or be more?
What's so comfortable about the comfort zone? Why do we allow obsolete habits and useless self-talk and limiting beliefs to cloud our visions, defer our dreams, and defeat our desires?
My dreams have been so much bigger lately - spurring me with visions of more intense work - not only in helping others in my hypnotherapy practice, or setting voices free with my vocal studio - there's more in my dreams - a bigger, beautiful base of operations with the walls covered in art, full of light, plants and flowers and serenity - a lush, fertile creative environment with inspiration at every turn. Dreams of being on stage once more, performing, absorbing and playing with the energy of a live audience, holding and sustaining a strong, pure, powerful note. Of signing my name into the inside jacket of my books of poetry.
I wake from these dreams - somedays with regret, somedays with wonder. With a sense of "that's just a dream." But my dreams are telling me something - they are providing me with visions of my desires manifest onto gorgeous landscapes.
How could these dreams, yet unfulfilled, fill my heart with such longing and fullness? How can I feel regret for realities yet unseen? Why do I dismiss these very achievable goals?
The regret is only Fear, Oh Fear, such a general paralysis!
What litany of excuses fall beneath your penumbra!
Fear of Life, Fear of Death, Fear of Success, Fear of Failure,
Fear of Change, Fear of Judgment, Fear of Flying.
Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the murderer of dreams.
I have so many projects I am undertaking right now, so many things I have to say, and write, and share, with passion, heart, love, and full intent.
I catch myself sometimes, in the midst of my brainstorms, and am attacked by the sudden worry - who will care about this? Hasn't this already been done?
My internal dialogue triumphs, mantras at the ready:
>> Worry is a misuse of the imagination. ( attributed to many authors, most often Dan Zadra)
>> Excerpts from "Move On" from Stephen Sondheim's "Sunday in the Park with George"
I chose, and my world was shaken--so what?
The choice may have been mistaken
but choosing was not.
You have to move on.
. . . . .
Stop worrying if your vision is new.
Let others make that decision . . .
they usually do!
You keep moving on.
. . . . .
Anything you do, let it come from you--
then it will be new.
Give us more to see.