I had a dream I needed to hold onto a bar, 20-30 feet above the ground. My body was swinging wildly as this spun in a circle. I needed to let go with one hand and grab a ladder which would allow me to climb to the ground to safety. I would let go and reach and not get the ladder and swing out again. I was afraid. I felt like a failure. I felt like I was too short to do it. And everyone else could. I awoke feeling depressed. I started journaling about this dream. Then it slowly dawned on me. But I was willing to try. I was afraid, but I was trying even when it seemed impossible. Why did I put the emphasis on the failing and not on the effort?
My Dad last night spoke of me as the "child who drove him crazy." I have spent a life time interpreting that as the child that wasn't good enough. Why didn't I see it as I was the one who taught him the most?
The quality of my Life is formed by the choices I make in how I see things. The joy in my life is either squashed by a choice of negativity or blossoms with a choice toward beauty. Today I will choose to dream, because "Living starts with dreaming." And I will choose the perspective that gives me even grander dreams.
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