It Could Be...

Young men dream, but old men have visions.

I am approaching what is considered to be old, yet I still dare to dream.

I dare to dream of the best of things. And I dream of you.

I dare to do this despite the trials and tribulations of a life well lived.

It is the only way I can see to keep living a life well.

This is not entitlement. None of us deserves anything other than that which we have carved out of the raw rock of our lives. The simple truth is that we have to see it before we carve it. To attack the rock blindly with no purpose is senseless and soon enough there will be nothing to show for our efforts except pain and discord.

My dreams are simple, but that is not to say that they are easy. Life is a constant struggle against inertia. We live, or we give up and we merely go through cyclical motions and exist in a drab cloud of grey.

I dream of a rainbow of life’s colours. A rich palette of experience. Of a time when I have gotten to know myself well enough to be comfortable in my own skin. By then of course, my skin will be looser and more accommodating, a well-worn pair of slippers that belong with my feet, and warm them in that belonging.

I dream of belonging in the very best of ways. Invisible roots that go deeper than I could ever have believed possible. Those roots connecting with the roots of others and providing all of us with both comfort and deep levels of understanding.

Living a kind of belonging that is sharing and serving. Giving with no notion of taking. Being in the moment, being present and living well.

I dream of doing this with you.

With you by my side, looking ahead at what could be and making it so. 

Living a celebration of lives shared. Lives that fulfil the both of us until we shine with the glory of it. Curling up together in the cold night. A roaring fire illuminating our faces as we read our books and share the best of silences. Silence noisy with meaning and connection. 

On warm Summer’s evenings, we’ll sit in the dying embers of the sun and talk about our day and then about our hopes and fears, always we will laugh and smile away our trivial worries. Banishing our fear with the warmth of shared perspective, understanding and companionship. We will make lists of all the things we want and need to do, and we will plan the rest of our lives together, making the plan fluid so that we can move freely and seize every opportunity to do what is important to us, snatching blooms of happiness along the way.

As we get older, we’ll find more time and wonder how it was that we didn’t have this time before now, but never will we mourn the losses incurred in our youth.

We will heal from the necessarily torrid and frenetic lives we had to live in order to get by and to arrive where we are right now. We will cease our worried scurrying, and we will take the time to really see that which has always been before us. We will pause at each summit, catching our breath and gazing around us in wonder, finally appreciating how far we have come in this miracle of life. We will relinquish the bad habits and hastily cobbled together coping mechanisms that the battles of our early lives demanded, and we will replace them with the gentle ways of being that we should have always worn, but didn’t make the time to find.

Our home will become a welcoming beacon and speak more for us than we ever could. We will smile and in our smiles will be wisdom, laughter and love. We will speak less and yet say more. We will reduce our speed and yet cover far more ground. We will listen and we will respond with questions that speak of our love. We will see this world with our minds and give our eyes a well-earned rest.

Everything that has gone before is necessary for the unfolding of these dreams. All of it. The experiences of our lives have made us who we are now. All of them. But especially the pain-barbed obstacles and the poison-laced ordeals. We have helped each other up again and again. There has never been failure, only learning. Our pain has been the pain of growing and we are all the better for it. From our scars shines the light of our being. 

There will be a time when we can rest a while and enjoy the toils of our labours. There will be a time beyond this current life of ours. I dream of that, and now I will begin to build it.

My dreams are simple because they are more an acknowledgement of what is and has always been, rather than wishes of what could be. To make them come true, we have to accept who we are and how far we have come, and we have to accept this life of ours.

Then we just have to keep going and keep being.

We just have to look up, and in aiming high we will go where our gaze takes us.

That is all there is to it.

That is the truth of it.

Love this life and love ourselves, then we can give all of that away and more. Letting go is acceptance. After all, we came into this world alone and with nothing. And we will leave it the same way. 

In the meantime, with you by my side, I have everything I need and everything I have ever wanted. The only thing I will hold onto is your hand, if you will let me?

Do you remember the so very old higgledy-piggledy stone cottage? The one with the uneven floors and beams that crouched down and demanded the same of us? The quaint little home in a quiet country village, with the small and busy garden that attracted myriad birds and bees? At the end of that garden, there was a high stone wall bedecked with ivy, and hidden within that wall was an arched gateway. The ring on the latch of the door was rusty and belligerent. I had to lift the heavy oak edifice a little before the catch gave, and as I pushed that creaking and complaining gate open, we were greeted by a wondrous secret garden. A garden that was a reflection of both our childhoods and in that moment we realised that it was also a mirror of dreams we had held in our hearts for an age.

Then there was that white house in the hills. A nondescript box that stood sentry in a sea of green. To look at the house was to miss the point. It was what the house looked out over that counted. With its back to a patchwork quilt of undulating fields, sat atop the belly of a slumbering giant silently asleep under the green grasses of Summer, it gazed out over the casually roiling ocean. Inside, we marvelled at the views and wandered enviously on the small balcony, seeing idealised versions of ourselves drinking morning tea in the light of that magical sea, and sipping gin and tonics in the evening as we watched the sun take a dip before retiring for the night.

Our dreams live in our hearts, and we take them with us wherever we go. We don’t have to realise them all. It is enough that we dare to dream and seek never to forget those dreams.

And I dare to hope that a little of this dreaming will come to pass, and if it does and you are there to share it with me, then that will be enough. And that will be more than enough, my love.