I Stopped Dreaming Long Ago

Here’s a note I just received from a No More Mondays reader:

Yes, I still do 8.5 hours of time in my "human filing cabinet" each day. Yes, I still dream of breaking out and finding my true calling. Yes, I'm still scared to death to do so. I stopped dreaming so long ago that I can't even remember what I loved to do when I was 20, much less 5. I just remember loving baseball more than anything else. Maybe I should get a glove and a ball and find a wall and play catch with myself for a dozen hours, and my dreams might start to come back. Hmmm. Maybe I will.

That actually is a great idea. Just breaking the cycle of our routine is often the jarring that our brains need to wake up. Go ahead and spend that 12 hours throwing a ball against the wall – I’m absolutely confident that in that time you’ll wipe away some cobwebs, peel back the scales from your eyes and begin to get in touch with your childhood dreams.

So often I see people who have become numbed to their dreams just because “life happens.” Mortgages come along, kids need school books, and it’s time for new tires on the car. Who has time to dream? But that’s why unexpected and even unwelcome events like a job loss or a business failure often break the normal day-to-day existence and wake up our best dreams. Take the initiative while things are okay – go spend a day at the zoo, walk 4 miles out in the country, call an old high school friend, get a massage, go on a cruise, or throw a ball at a wall for 12 hours – that just may be the tipping point to reveal your true calling.