While waiting for my Tahitian Vanilla tea, I looked down at the horoscope that was taped to the counter in front of me:
"When do you know it's time to walk away from your dreams?"
I reached outside of my comfort box this week and tried to discover if there was a different path that may lie ahead for me. Sadly, at the last moment, as I understood fully what I was trying to get myself into, I realized that it was actually something that was not for me. I still went after it as best I could and found the lessons that were hidden in my actions.
It was fun working on a new project, something to break the repetitiveness of the daily grind. That's a phrase I hear from people quite often.
"It's always the same thing, day after day."
The funny thing is there are so many things that happen over and over that we never complain about. The sun rising in the morning, the smell of supper cooking at night, the sound of laughter when we share our favorite stories.
The really interesting lesson for me is the old adage about being happy with yourself. If that was my guiding principle, would I ever reach out and try something new?
I didn't get what I was trying for, but I wasn't disappointed. I learned that you don't know what you don't know until you don't know it.
I wish the same could be said about not missing things until you look for them.
When I was younger I went to a presentation at a local church where a man came to show us a film about how the world was coming to an end. I was mildly interested in the topic, mostly in the free comic books that were promised for any children who showed up.
During his talk he quoted a scripture about the end of days which would be known when men dressed like women and women acted like men. Behind him on the screen, larger than anyone in the room, were images of Bourbon Street on Mardi Gras day. Everything stopped for me. I studied the faces, the clothes, the buildings draped in colors I had never dreamt of before. This was the place I wanted to be, a place in which I knew I belonged. I did not know what to call it other than someplace different.
Eventually I made my way there becoming a part of the parade and the colorful carnival of characters who helped me build a world I enjoyed living in.
Long before corporations co-opted the concept, I hung out at coffee houses, drinking bitter espressos and listening to fading poets talk about a social utopia that was always just over the horizon. As soon as everything else fell apart of course.
It may seem that it's all coming to an end at times, but I hold onto the belief that as long as you wrap yourself in your dreams, it is impossible to walk away from them.