Inspiration
Articles to inspire authentic living on the topics of resilience, spirituality, and self-growth with touches of storytelling, depth, and humor.
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When Dreams come with an Expiration Date
“You are such a dreamer,” one of the funniest insults in the history of humanity. Considering that there hasn’t been a discovery, a life-altering innovation, an awe-inspiring enterprise that did not start as a dream makes me believe that those who ditch the dreamers suffer from a limited myopic view.
I love asking kids what they want to be when they grow up. Astronauts, teachers, doctors, parents, architects, you name it. Seeing a child’s face lights up when answering is the precise representation of a soul ignited by a dream. As we grow up and become more aware of life’s challenges, we tend to either put those dreams aside for more practical answers, forgive what it feels like to have that internal desire, or just succumb to the limited belief that life is too difficult.
From Survival to Thriving
It is challenging to thrive when multiple obstacles hit us, and life feels like a constant Whac-a-mole game. However, those periods that force us into survival mode are not a waste of time - as long as we decide to take advantage of it.
The last couple of years has forced many of us to deal with unforeseeable circumstances that have veered our paths from growth to survival. But, in those moments where we have no other choice but to surrender, we find the great gifts that come with challenging times. How we face each wave determines the growth that we can enjoy after the storm.
Of Finding Our Purpose and Calling on Magic
I always joke that I have a Librarian Complex. Not only because I obviously love books - the actual physical books, not just reading – but also because I love to organize and categorize everything: information, ideas, feelings, facial features, personality types…you name it! Maybe it was because my brain worked that way that from a very young age I started seeing my life as a series of puzzle pieces, each representing things I was either good at or that I loved to do. One piece, for example, was my passion to create constantly. Another one was my interest in building communities. I was the child always organizing groups, bringing people together through common interests. Later on, when I had a short stint doing theater, I discovered that I really loved creating experiences where people felt transported. As I started growing up and all these pieces started fitting into each other I realized they contain my purpose. What a great feeling to start discovering what we came to do in this world! I feel my “Purpose Puzzle” is still evolving and I can identify pieces that still haven’t fit there, but I know they eventually will.
The last couple of years have offered me the opportunity of immense growth, although sometimes they have come like axes that have as well left me terribly bruised. The beauty of it is that it has brought me closer to find my purpose, and I am grateful for that.
Back in December an opportunity came for me out of the blue.
Wishing upon a dandelion
It was a casual Spring afternoon. My son and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. He was wearing his Batman t-shirt because, what can I say? He likes super heroes.
Soon after, we started seeing many dandelions on the side of the road, a collection of yellow flowers growing everywhere. Occasionally he would grab some and placed them on a bag we were carrying for no other reason that to collect items. It didn’t take long for him to concentrate on grabbing dandelion seed heads, those delicate white globes of exposed seeds that had long been believed to contain the power of granting wishes.
My son, with his superhero shirt, started running holding a bunch of them in his hands, the passing breeze breaking each globe into tiny speckles of seeds that flew in the air. It looked magical, and my son’s laugh was the perfect soundtrack for the moment. Once he was left with only stems in his hands, we set to find more. Luckily for us, dandelions are stubborn weeds that grows everywhere.
Skip Forest, Skip... the sun is chasing us
It looked like just another yoga class, a completely packed yoga class, I should say. I was in the front of the room, squeezed between a wall and three fellow practitioners. The instructor began by thanking people who have sent coundolescense after the loss of her mother. In the process of recovering from this life-altering event, the instructor offered us a word that has sustained her in the last few days: acceptance. The message resonated inside my heart like a cathedral’s bell at noon because I knew that was a message I needed to hear. However, what shook me was not the opportune word but her explanation. She mentioned that while she had been grieving someone advised her that maybe it was time to move on. Moving on?
The wishing bone
“Do you know what this is?” he asked me holding v-shaped bone in his hand.
I shook my head.
“This is a wishing bone,” he added as if he was holding a long sought-after treasure.
“What is that for?” I asked, my curiosity awakened.
He asked me to hold one side of it while he held the other.
“We are both going to pull this bone. The person that gets the bigger part will have a wish come true.”
I smiled, unsure if that was some kind of trick. He insisted I held one side.
“Now, you need to make a wish,” the butcher in the blood stained smock said.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
What do you want to be when you grow up? I have to admit I always enjoyed that question. The thing is that I was a weird kid. I just knew from a very young age what I wanted to be. Since I was 4, I would always have an adult ask me “so, what do you want to be when you grow up?” and I would say in my serious 4 going-on-forty’s voice “I want to be a painter and a writer” And they would say “You are cute. Do you mean like a teacher, or a mom, an astronaut. “No, I want to be a painter and a writer.”
I knew it in my heart, the same way I also knew that there are things I really, really wanted but they were not in my destiny. Like ballet, for example.
Today I was driving when a memory hit me like lighting. I was probably a sophomore or junior in college and as every Sunday we stayed for hours at the dining table talking about our weeks, our lives, our dreams. At that moment I was expressing my life plan: what I was going to study, where, timing to reach my goals, how I was going to make a living, what I was going to do in order to sustain my creative endeavors, etc. I had such a determined plan and I was proud of myself, I felt I was on a roll.
Threading the path to our North Star
There are women whose dream is to have a shoe closet like the one Mr. Big built for Carry Bradshaw: the shoe displays, the lights, an universe of heels and colors and tons of accessories that are more decorative than functional. Although I would not oppose to a closet like that (as long as shoes are arranged by color), there are other places that provoque my soul to vibrate at a much higher frequency.
A bookstore and its sister, the old-book section at a library; an art supply store with tons of items to play with and create the mountain of work I will never get to actually produce. Lastly, and the strange thing is that this one does not connect with my career choices: a fabric store.
My heart always jumps when I see the rolls of fabric. As a kid in a candy store, the awe accumulates in my stomach and comes out in a sigh. Maybe it is that sense of not knowing where to start, the physical need to rejoice in the different textures that caress the tips of my fingers, or perhaps the sensation of getting drunk on color overload and creative patterns. My soul gets greedy, I want them all! So like in a labyrinth I get lost comparing all the textiles, imagining what I would do with each of them: beautiful gowns that I don’t have an occasion to wear, summer dresses, swimsuits, handbags, upholstery for that piece of junk I found at a tag sale.