Skip to main content

The Story Behind The Dream

Where did this dream come from?

I have wanted to travel to the Africa/Middle East/India arc of the world for nearly a decade. The six weeks I spent in northern Africa during the summer of 2009 fed this, and kindled a desire for in-depth interactions with women in Muslim regions of the world. The more I talk with friends who have spent significant time in developing nations, the more I want to go. And the more I'm convinced that I could learn much from the people there.

If you have read my blog much over the past year, you will know that the idea of Hope - what it is, where we find it, why we need it - is often on my mind.

And over the last year and a half, I have been embracing the idea of taking risks, not just passing time, but LIVING my life.

So all these things have been simmering. And then a series of moments brought it all together.



Moment #1
For the first time ever, I go to a concert on my own. When I leave, I instinctively turn to the friend next to me so we can discuss the night. But no one is there.

What was the point of coming? I wonder to myself. Who do I share this with? How do I debrief it?

I believe that life is meant to be shared, and the vast majority of my best memories are not moments that have happened on my own, but communal events, adventures, and conversations with people I love.


Moment #2
A friend invites me to the Banff Mountain Film Festival's Toronto visit, and I can't help but notice that all six short documentary films we watch are man-centric. The main characters are men, while women are the wives, sisters, and mothers who watch them go. I think to myself, I have zero desire to jump off a mountain or climb one without a harness, but I believe in adventure! And it is the 21st century. So why aren't women represented here??? I want to travel and make a documentary. I could do it.


Moment #2b
One of the films, Crossing the Ditch, tells the story of two guys from Australia who decide to kayak across the Tasman Sea between Australia and New Zealand. This has never been done before. Do they know how to kayak? No. But you know what? They learn. I don't want to spoil the story (it is fantastic), but I will share this key quote/paraphrase from one of them: "Adventure isn't necessarily about extreme sports or putting yourself in stupid situations. It's about pushing the limits of who you are and what you're capable of, and then seeing how you've changed as
you reintegrate into your regular life."

DANG.




Moment #3
The next day, I am at hospice volunteer training. As we learn about the realities of cancer, I find myself thinking, If I were diagnosed with cancer, I would go on an adventure. I'd make a movie. And if I had cancer, people would give money to make it happen.

When I realize what I've just thought, I rebuke myself; I don't want to wait until I'm dying to live my dreams. And money - lack of money is not a reason to give up. It is a problem to be solved.



So there you have it. I sat there in the volunteer training, thinking to myself, I guess that means I should just do it. And over the past 3 months, as I've talked with friends and laid it out, more shape has come to it. It's an actual plan now, not just a dream. I want to do this. With you.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Simone Weil: On "Forms of the Implicit Love of God"

Simone Weil time again! One of the essays in Waiting for God  is entitled "Forms of the Implicit Love of God." Her main argument is that before a soul has "direct contact" with God, there are three types of love that are implicitly  the love of God, though they seem to have a different explicit  object. That is, in loving X, you are really loving Y. (in this case, Y = God). As for the X of the equation, she lists: Love of neighbor  Love of the beauty of the world  Love of religious practices  and a special sidebar to Friendship “Each has the virtue of a sacrament,” she writes. Each of these loves is something to be respected, honoured, and understood both symbolically and concretely. On each page of this essay, I found myself underlining profound, challenging, and thought-provoking words. There's so much to consider that I've gone back several times, mulling it over and wondering how my life would look if I truly believed even half of these thin

I Like to Keep My Issues Drawn

It's Sunday night and I am multi-tasking. Paid some bills, catching up on free musical downloads from the past month, thinking about the mix-tape I need to make and planning my last assignment for writing class. Shortly, I will abandon the laptop to write my first draft by hand. But until then, I am thinking about music. This song played for me earlier this afternoon, as I attempted to nap. I woke up somewhere between 5 and 5:30 this morning, then lay in bed until 8 o'clock flipping sides and thinking about every part of my life that exists. It wasn't stressful, but it wasn't quite restful either...This past month, I have spent a lot of time rebuffing lies and refusing to believe that the inside of my heart and mind can never change. I feel like Florence + The Machine 's song "Shake it Out" captures many of these feelings & thoughts. (addendum: is the line "I like to keep my issues strong or drawn ?" Lyrics sites have it as "stro

Esse - Czeslaw Milosz

I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st