I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.
I’ve had seven decades to figure that out and I still don’t know.
I’ve g![121237911521A68V[1]](http://sampatron.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/121237911521a68v1.jpg "121237911521A68V[1]")
one through life pretty much doing whatever came to hand, with some successes, but without really having any dreams. I can’t remember ever having dreams or even “a dream,” even as a kid, though I suppose I did. Don’t we all? Maybe our dreams are just to survive or maybe they’re to help others survive, or maybe even thrive, but I don’t recall any major desire to do something grand, or even small, but intense.
When I was asked what I wanted to do when I was graduated from high school, I gave that vague response so many young folks do: I want to help people. Is that a dream? It was a desire, but is that a dream? I did, indeed, help people, I think. A career as a medical technologist helped me save a life now and again.
But I never had a dream that said, “I want to save lives.” Who, me? So, was that a dream?
Does having a dream have to involve having a plan and an aim? Or can we just mosey along, doing what comes to hand and do good without having a dream? I sure hope so!
I always believed I could do whatever I set my mind to and, most of the time, I did. But wouldn’t a dream involve setting my heart, rather than my mind, to it?
I remember one time when my riding instructor told![13051514031qXBY1[1]](http://sampatron.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/13051514031qxby11.jpg "13051514031qXBY1[1]")
us that the way to get over a jump, and make sure the horse jumped, too, was to “throw your heart over the fence and then follow it.” Isn’t it that way with a dream? You know, I can’t recall that I’ve ever thrown my heart anywhere except over some fences. We jumped a few of those, my horses and me. We even got some ribbons for that, but was that a dream?
Well, yes, it was, to some extent. I’ve always loved horses and my greatest desire was to ride them. I did that, for about twenty years, but then the horses got old and sick and eventually I lost them. I’ve never managed to get my heart back from that.
Now, it’s not likely I’ll ever have that dream again, but I can relive![1294072333wtZocB[1]](http://sampatron.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/1294072333wtzocb1.jpg "1294072333wtZocB[1]")
it, though doing that often makes me tear up, even sob now and again. I guess my heart is still out there, but the dream isn’t going to happen again.
Where do lost dreams go? How do we go on when the dreams are lost? Why do we go on? There must be a reason.
Now I pretend I’m a writer and while I can write, I’m not sure if I ![1275366177Oi46H1[1]](http://sampatron.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/1275366177oi46h11.jpg "1275366177Oi46H1[1]")
should call that a dream or not. I’ll write for a few years and see if it develops some heart. If my family history is significant, I have at least twenty more years to get over that fence.
So, I have no dream, no plans, but that doesn’t mean I’m no![1230437894q4y87y[1]](http://sampatron.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/1230437894q4y87y1.jpg "1230437894q4y87y[1]")
t enjoying life. Oh, yes, there’s that. It is possible to mosey along, just amble through life, with no major aim or goal, and still enjoy it.
And maybe that’s my dream. To just enjoy life, whatever it brings.
Sam, I think there’s a lot to be said about just being, moseying along and taking it all in, wherever it leads. Sometimes our greatest surprises and joys can happen without all those plans and schemes. What a delightful reminder! Thank you for sharing.
I agree, Kathy. Moseying and ambling are – or were – some of my favorite pastimes. Until I forgot what was really important and bought into the necessity for “plans.” But I’m working on getting back to it again. Thanks for coming by and commenting. I appreciate it.
“Now I pretend I’m a writer, ” you say. Take a look at your deftly subtle use of the heart motif in this blogpost. Do that and then come back so we can discuss this notion of your writing being “pretend.”
When I was a tyke, I looked forward to the day when I’d be my parents’ age, early-forties, so that I too would have my life figured out, have it all together. Now, I’m almost the same age that my parents were when I moved away to college. I’ve since discovered that when we think we’ve getting a firm handle on things, are figuring our lives out, Life messes with our figures.
What do I wanna be? Still pretending to figure that one out.
These words, from Langston Hughes, to close; his poem, _Harlem_:
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Well, Ed, I realize I can write pretty well, it’s my storytelling ability that seems to be lacking. I always thought that a writer was a storyteller so that’s my actual pretense, I suppose. IOW, if I can’t tell a story, am I really a writer? Still working on that. I know the technique and technical details of story telling (tons of books about that y’know) but technique alone isn’t very satisfying. I feel like I’m doing requirements for school essays instead of telling a real story, no heart, IOW. As for your impatience to grow up so you could have it “all together” like your parents, you’ve almost directly quoted my mother. She said the same thing to me one time, that she couldn’t wait to grow up so she’d have all the answers but “you never do.” As an oldest daughter, I have/had plenty of issues with my mom but every now and then she pops into my mind with something wise or witty that I thought I’d completely forgotten. Thanks for this reminder of a “forgotten” wisdom. I hadn’t realized where “raisin in the sun” came from but this is a wonderful poem. It doesn’t help me discover my dream, though, whether deferred or just unknown. It does give me food for thought, however. Thanks for coming by and for your comments. They’re appreciated more than you might expect.
Thanks for the follow. I guess you figured it out. And a Bean’s Pat to you for this great blog. Great lunch with great company yesterday.
Yup, I managed to manage my blogs that I’m following and now I’ll get updates instantly – I hope! LOL Thanks for the comment. And lunch was such fun it lasted me way past dinner time, Tony took care of the leftover bread pudding as soon as I got home, too. *G*
Like you Sam, I still wonder what I’m going to do/be when I grow up? But somehow the heat of that burning question just doesn’t seem to flare so brightly any more, at least not as much as when I was in my mid 40′s. Then I agonized so much, wasting time wondering what I was going to do when I had the time to do something, anything!
Some days I wanted to write; others work with fiber and textiles. I thought I had to choose if I wanted to be more than a ‘Jill of all trades, mistress of none’. Now I don’t care so much any more. I hardly even envy those who seem to be so committed to their heart’s desire. I’m just not sure that it ultimately matters what I do or who I am.
Maybe I am witnessing too many people passing on (to where?), or maybe my children are bringing so many of their own personal problems back home to my lap that I have neither time nor energy to wonder what to do with my ‘free’ time (and yes I do have hours available now where before I had none.) Like you I think I want to write. I think I enjoy that most of all. I like playing with words and language. For now that’s enough. And in the evenings I sit and spin.
Your comment, Edith, made me rethink my post a little bit. I think I bought into the idea that it was necessary to have a “dream,” meaning something very consequential. Just living didn’t seem consequential enough. Boy, how I got off the track there! LOL I’ve always sort of liked the idea of being a “Jill of all trades,” because I enjoy so many different things. Which is probably what makes it so hard to have a “conventional” dream. It sounds to me like you’re living a dream that many people would like to have, i,e, not doing what they “have” to do to have a dream. It sounds a bit like we’re on the same dream track and that’s nice. Thanks for coming by and commenting.