The Deeper Dream (or, From here to there)

me on Plum Island, MA (photo by James Simpson, taken with camera phone)

There is something there, but I can't quite make it out. It beckons, but I can't see it clearly. It calls to me, but all I hear is a faint hum, an electric rumble in the undercurrent. It walks into the room when my back is turned, so that I can feel its presence, but then disappears before I can catch a glimpse of it from the corner of my eye.

Is this a dream trying to be born?

Is this a secret waiting to be discovered?

Is this my truth longing to be embraced?

*   *   *

I made a list of more than 50 dreams for my latest Mondo Beyondo. Dreaming crazy-big was ridiculously easy this time around. I wish to be on Broadway. I wish to write well-received books. I wish to travel to Italy with my husband. I wish to live in our dream cottage by the sea. The wishes went on and on.

But I could sense a deeper dream, a bigger wish lurking somewhere behind the others. I wondered if the dreams on the list were merely distractions. But that's not exactly it. They're all good and true in their own way. What is it then? Are they merely peripheral to the bigger picture? Are they means to an end, a way to get to the core of things?

*   *   *

I have this sneaking suspicion: That other people see it already. That someone (maybe you) know what it is, but you're not telling me. Not telling is part of the rules. No, not "rules" in the "allowed" and "not allowed" sense; but rules in the "this is how it works" sense. Anyways, it doesn't matter. I probably wouldn't understand or believe you if you did tell me.

*   *   *

(But when the time comes, please speak up. I'll listen.)

*   *   *

I first noticed this feeling seven months ago, in a Manhattan diner. A friend had just finished handing me my heart on a blue plate special. My eyes filled with tears. "I'm so lost, aren't I?" I said. It wasn't a question so much as a confession. But really, it wasn't a confession so much as an acceptance.

We rode the subway back. I felt blind and deaf. Even so, I could sense that electric hum, and it had nothing to do with the underground train.

* * *

Then again in August with the list of dreams.

Build it and they will come.

I believe. But I don't know what I'm building yet.

*   *   *

And now again, in the slate and golden heart of autumn, my most alive time of year.

I think that if: I could just sit quietly and really listen. Or make lists. Or talk to an expert. Then I could: Achieve clarity. As if clarity alone were the goal and the thing to be achieved.

But I know better now. I know that much. I can sit quietly and make lists and talk to people. I can go to New York City. I can go to the woods. I can go to the oceans on both sides of the continent. All of these things are good and true, so long as I don't let them become distractions. The only way to figure this out is to keep doing the work that presents itself to me.

Keep writing the assignments for school because I want to learn.

Keep writing on this blog because I want to connect with you.

Keep writing the essays about the sea because this is what makes my heart swell.

Keep moving in this general direction: blindfolded, but not deaf or dumb.

Marco?

{Polo}

The answer comes from somewhere deep within and all around me. One step. One step. The only way out is through. The only way from here to there is from here to there. The journey is the destination. Platitudes will keep me company, but they won't show me the truth.

I'm working on having the courage of my convictions, like Julia Child. I'm flipping that omelette with gusto! I'm writing this post with abandon! I'm coming. Just wait for me.

Marco!

{Polo!}

Comments

[Rachelle Mee-Chapman]

It's all in the sea. I'm sure of it.

[Helen]

Oh, yes! This is heart-speak. This is the good stuff. Telling it like it is. And I know just what you mean. I've felt it so often, too. And you're absolutely right. The only way from here to there is from here to there. Keep moving forward and the way will open up before us. Hang back until we can see where we're going and we never will. So....one step at a time. And I'm with you all the way. xx

[gem]

Jenna*

mmhh. i read this. i get it. the here to there. the through. the keeping ~ doing the work...

makes me think of the process of developing film/a photo ~ in super slow motion. these words rise as an offering from my heart to yours ~ i offer them without attachment or full understanding or knowing ~ they just are: you, darling, are being made ready.

i feel the "gusto!"

love, love,
gem

[Katie @ cakes, tea and dreams]

YES. Yes yes yes.

This is beautiful, and true. Keep moving forward, Jenna. Something truly amazing is waiting for you.

[Kelley]

This just resonates with me on so many levels - I hear that hum too, it's just there, beneath the surface and, if only I had more time, more clarity, I could put my finger on what I'm SUPPOSED to be doing with my life. But I think you really put the pin on the head with this, "The only way to figure this out is to keep doing the work that presents itself to me."

Thanks for sharing your heart,
Kelley (your neighbor in Judy's class at Squam)

[Heather]

I keep trying and failing to say a certain something, but not quite getting the words out. So instead I will just gaze at your photo a minute an wish a big wish for you and not say a word at all.

[Elizabeth Harper]

I get this so completely that I could find my way to you without a road map because we are on the same journey.

[Count Sneaky]

Perhaps, my dear, you need to release your tight grip on life and then just observe. Observe the
sea, observe your friends, observe life around you; then observe your thoughts about them, your desires, your thoughts about all that you have been taught. The world is inside you and if you can see the difference between what you observe and the observer, you can see then the source of your creativity, your longing, your goals, and your self. Perhaps, you will find the bigger dream lurking behind the others. My best. Count Sneaky

[Jessica]

Jenna,

This is beautiful and it reminded me of one of my favourite poems:

I have always known
That at last I would
Take this road, but yesterday
I did not know that it would be today.
--Narihira

[Liz]

so beautiful Jenna, and like you, I am my most alive my most tenacious, my most inspired, and my most energised self when the autumn winds arrive and bring their blue blue skies and the turning and falling leaves, and that smell in the air that can only mean fall is here...here's to finding that ever bigger dream and allowing it to float to the surface and breathe the clean fall air...

[Leisa Hammett]

Beautiful. Your writing is very clean. And, engaging.