Dreams and Buckets
I discovered something in my adult life that surprised me.
You know all those posters that hang in kids’ bedrooms and school classrooms with those inspirational, motivational sayings on them?
If you believe it, you can achieve it.
Be the change you wish to see in the world.
Do all the good you can. By all the means you can. In all the ways you can.
In all the places you can. At all the times you can. To all the people you can.
As long as ever you can.
Funny thing. Growing up, I actually believed those sayings. I spent much of my life thinking that everyone believed those sayings. Sadly, I’ve come to understand that not everyone thinks so optimistically or positively. The decision for me was whether to let that impact my own beliefs about life. Shall I moderate my enthusiasm, temper my dreams, dilute my beliefs? Should I scale it back, tone it down, rein it in? It’s tempting I tell you because it’s actually pretty painful and very difficult to live with/work with/interact with others whose beliefs about life are more like the de-motivational posters you can buy online. This was something of a mid-life crisis for me, and I have to tell you what I decided.
I still believe those sayings.
I do believe we have to be the change we wish to see in the world.
I do believe in doing all the good we can, as long as we ever can.
I do believe that I can achieve whatever I set out to do.
During this past school year, I had the unexpected pleasure of meeting our then-current Miss Missouri, Shelby Ringdahl. (I bet she had these posters on her walls as a kid, too.) She came to speak to our students, and she talked at length about keeping a bucket list. What does that mean? Dream big dreams. Write them down, hang them up, keep them in sight and then make them happen one by one. She decided, consciously, one day, that being Miss Missouri was a dream she wanted to bring into reality. Clearly, she can check that one off!
As for myself, last week I walked through some important and historic milestones as the new high school we opened — created from nothing more than a vision and a dream — graduated its very first class. As I arrived home, elated and exhausted, I found this handmade gift from my teenage daughters. A painted canvas, and a hand-written note.
“And so she decided to start living the life she’d imagined…”
Indeed. If I can imagine it, I can live it. Truly, the only life I’ll get is the one I imagine for myself. I cried, of course, because that’s what I do, but I’m not so much happy that they gave this gift to me. I’m happy because I think, I hope they got this gift from me. That’s what I want for them–to live the life they imagine.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, in a land far, far away, I started college as an English major. I loved to write and to read. I thought–I’ll be a writer someday! Three major-changes later, I ended up in education…exactly where I am supposed to be, I have no doubt. But I thought–someday, I’ll come back to writing. Really, I will.
I put it on my bucket list.
CHECK.