Okay, I was watching Oprah interview Hugh Jackman last week and I was struck by something he said about desire. Of course, I can't remember it verbatim but Jackman was talking about the high point of his acting career and surprisingly, it was not being cast as Wolverine or being named the sexiest man. It came early in his career when he took the stage in a role in The Royal Shakespeare Company's production of Oklahoma. He was in his early twenties and as an actor, his greatest desire was to be on the stage where his idols, Sir Anthony Hopkins, Patrick Stewart, Dame Judi Dench, had performed. He spoke about how wonderful it was to have that dream fulfilled so early in his life. Then he paused and said that he had been talking with his wife about what would have happened to him, if he had never fulfilled that dream. He wondered aloud about what happens to people when they have dreams like that that are, for whatever reason, never fulfilled. Disappointment like that can alter you forever.
Has this happened to you?
Have you been living with the disillusionment of a dream that has gone unfulfilled?
Has it affected you so much that you no longer pursue anything that seems difficult or challenging?
Has the disappointment proved so insurmountable that you won't allow yourself to desire anything to that degree again?
Before you answer, I will share that it has and did happen to me. It has altered me. I think I live with the repercussions of that disappointment even now. I know I do. I think about it daily.
I won't go into the details of what happened or why because I don't think it is important. I will share that one of those daily thoughts is -- I never want to WANT anything that much again. So I don't. I don't allow myself to get obsessed or too attached or overly enthusiastic about many things. I don't invest, not fully, not to the degree to which I know I am capable. And, that has worked for me. I mean, it has cushioned me from a great deal of pain. I think.
Because I don't invest too much, I am not shaken by inevitable changes nor am I overly committed to maintaining the status quo in every arena of my life. I am more laid-back, thoughtful. These days, I view life differently. Looking back, I think some of the disappointments I experienced definitely happened for a reason and they provided me with an opportunity to grow. So when I am pushing towards achieving something specific and it doesn't immediately manifest, I tell myself that there is a reason. I need to be patient and eventually, the reason will reveal itself. But it hasn't been easy nor am I sufficiently enlightened navigate every setback with such insight. But I try.
At the same time, I miss the passionate me -- the me that gets obsessed and worked into a lather about things. Not because I miss the drama that came with that (that I do not miss) but because that version of me seemed so much more fearless than I am now. Having never experienced that level of disappointment, I was unafraid of -- trying, of being wrong, of failure. I felt powerful. That passionate me felt like she could create the life she dreamed about and nothing could possibly stop her.
Until it did. And she pursued something she really wanted and things didn't turn out like she thought. She retreated. I haven't heard from her since. And I wonder about her. Where she is? Is she okay? Is she too wounded to ever return? Can I live without her?
But I realize something. She was a fraud. She wasn't really fearless. She was a coward. She hid behind her emotions, masked her insecurity with brazenness. I know now, it wasn't true passion because she never committed to anything because of her fear. She had dreams but she deferred them. Ignored them, really. She told herself that there were selfish. There was more important issues in the world. She surrounded herself with other people's drama so that she had no time for them.
Until the one moment when she didn't. She let her guard down and experienced disappointment.
She let her guard down because she thought the mask was her true face. She thought she was fearless and that that made her invincible. NO, she thought her good works entitled her to the dream. But the good works were fraudulent, too, because real commitment has to involve the possibility of real loss. Isn't that the reason dreams are so powerful and their loss holds such power over us?
She experienced that crushing disappointment for the first time and realized she was a fraud. Maybe that is the real reason, she hasn't returned because she knows I know who she really is. I have had to recreate myself from what remains behind.
But what to do with those dreams?
I shift through them, deciding which are still viable, which are a total loss. I decide which I am truly committed to pursuing, in spite of what crushing disappointments may lie ahead of me. I still believe I have dreams left to fulfill.
Has this happened to you?
Have you been living with the disillusionment of a dream that has gone unfulfilled?
Has it affected you so much that you no longer pursue anything that seems difficult or challenging?
Has the disappointment proved so insurmountable that you won't allow yourself to desire anything to that degree again?
Before you answer, I will share that it has and did happen to me. It has altered me. I think I live with the repercussions of that disappointment even now. I know I do. I think about it daily.
I won't go into the details of what happened or why because I don't think it is important. I will share that one of those daily thoughts is -- I never want to WANT anything that much again. So I don't. I don't allow myself to get obsessed or too attached or overly enthusiastic about many things. I don't invest, not fully, not to the degree to which I know I am capable. And, that has worked for me. I mean, it has cushioned me from a great deal of pain. I think.
Because I don't invest too much, I am not shaken by inevitable changes nor am I overly committed to maintaining the status quo in every arena of my life. I am more laid-back, thoughtful. These days, I view life differently. Looking back, I think some of the disappointments I experienced definitely happened for a reason and they provided me with an opportunity to grow. So when I am pushing towards achieving something specific and it doesn't immediately manifest, I tell myself that there is a reason. I need to be patient and eventually, the reason will reveal itself. But it hasn't been easy nor am I sufficiently enlightened navigate every setback with such insight. But I try.
At the same time, I miss the passionate me -- the me that gets obsessed and worked into a lather about things. Not because I miss the drama that came with that (that I do not miss) but because that version of me seemed so much more fearless than I am now. Having never experienced that level of disappointment, I was unafraid of -- trying, of being wrong, of failure. I felt powerful. That passionate me felt like she could create the life she dreamed about and nothing could possibly stop her.
Until it did. And she pursued something she really wanted and things didn't turn out like she thought. She retreated. I haven't heard from her since. And I wonder about her. Where she is? Is she okay? Is she too wounded to ever return? Can I live without her?
But I realize something. She was a fraud. She wasn't really fearless. She was a coward. She hid behind her emotions, masked her insecurity with brazenness. I know now, it wasn't true passion because she never committed to anything because of her fear. She had dreams but she deferred them. Ignored them, really. She told herself that there were selfish. There was more important issues in the world. She surrounded herself with other people's drama so that she had no time for them.
Until the one moment when she didn't. She let her guard down and experienced disappointment.
She let her guard down because she thought the mask was her true face. She thought she was fearless and that that made her invincible. NO, she thought her good works entitled her to the dream. But the good works were fraudulent, too, because real commitment has to involve the possibility of real loss. Isn't that the reason dreams are so powerful and their loss holds such power over us?
She experienced that crushing disappointment for the first time and realized she was a fraud. Maybe that is the real reason, she hasn't returned because she knows I know who she really is. I have had to recreate myself from what remains behind.
But what to do with those dreams?
I shift through them, deciding which are still viable, which are a total loss. I decide which I am truly committed to pursuing, in spite of what crushing disappointments may lie ahead of me. I still believe I have dreams left to fulfill.
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