I think about dreams and goals.
A lot.
And I wonder at times, are we putting too much emphasis on hitting the big, shiny, Instagram worthy goals instead of focusing on the small moments of satisfaction that actually make up our lives?
Stick with me on this, I promise it will make sense.
The other day, I fell down a rabbit hole looking for a new book to download on our Kindle. Do you know how many books are actually on that platform?
Approximately, 8 bajillion.
And I couldn’t get that number out of my head.
These unknown writers and authors stayed with me for days, perhaps because they were—they are—creators, just like me, and have likely spent decades fueled by big dreams of “making it.” I can’t help but wonder if they too dance the line of hope and anxiety when it comes to their art, to their fragile dreams that feel as if they could take off or crash and burn at any given time. Do they also wonder whether their writing will ever see the light of day (or the bright light of a Kindle), or better yet, help them build a satisfying career?
I’ve always had big dreams—and not just about writing books, either. Growing up, I was the typical first born daughter. Overachieving, straight A, Honor Role, Class President, and varsity athlete. “She is an absolute joy to have in class!” my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Law, wrote on my report card (although there was also a side conversation about how much I talked in class. Whoops).
I drank up the energy and the praise.
As many millennials will understand, I knew I needed to make something of myself from a very young age. It was standard to have a five-, 10-, and 20-year plan to recite when needed. College, marriage, babies, career. Achieve, achieve, achieve. The pressure was enormous—from the outside world but also when I looked at myself in the mirror. The belief that my worth was contingent on achieving all of my dreams (on schedule) ultimately burrowed its way inside me, making me think about life solely as a goal-oriented mission. To reach one’s dreams and live up to your full potential—well, that was the dream.
All I had to do was work my ass off for it.
Do not get me wrong. There are benefits to this dream-centered approach to life. For one, you get an entire generation of visionaries and overachievers. Dreamers and Doers. Dreaming big can be a force of motivation and inspiration; when you believe the sky is the limit, others can begin to believe the sky is the limit for them too. Believing in yourself means you’re more likely to achieve what you set out to accomplish. In a way, dreaming is also an important component to manifesting your desires.
Yet, lately I’ve been wondering if “big dreams” have become the sole focus for many of us, the yardstick for which we measure our satisfaction and even our worth. It’s easy to convince ourselves that we haven’t “arrived” yet, that we won’t arrive until our wildest dreams come true (whatever the heck that means). I fear it’s even easier to believe that our lives are and will possibly always be unfulfilled—that we are unfulfilled—because we are constantly chasing the next promotion, the next accolade, the next car, the next trip….the next thing.
Dreams change over time. What I once wished for as a young girl and a naive bright-eyed college graduate is definitely not what’s best for me now. Or maybe it is but it’s going to take me a little longer to get there than I think. Sometimes we need to mourn the loss of a dream, especially one that has defined us so much before we’re able to move forward and dream a new dream.
As I get older, and many of my dreams have come true, I’ve realized they don’t offer as much satisfaction as I thought they would have. In my 20s, I dreamed of having an essay published in a literary magazine, the newspaper, and an anthology…..and then those dreams happened. While I am super grateful and proud of these milestones (I have them saved in a scrapbook), I blinked and they were gone. They didn’t define my life like I thought they would, and they honestly aren’t the moments I return to when searching for inner peace.
In fact, it’s the small moments of satisfaction that have shaped me: the early morning walks with my dog, having coffee with my husband on a patio, the smell of the hyacinth bushes in our neighborhood, the sound of my daughter’s laughter.
It’s the group chat with my best friends, the inside jokes at the dinner table, Callie picking me flowers on her walk home from school, and the teamwork at my job–something that even though it’s exhausting, makes me proud to be a part of.
The mundane every day moments matter too—they offer, perhaps, the deepest satisfaction. I feel it when I’m baking cookies or making dinner for my family. I realize: I am living this life. A profound gratefulness and satisfaction sink in. My big dreams may still be on the horizon, but I have scaled some freaking huge mountains, survived long miles in the harsh valleys, and endured the lasting lulls. Most importantly I think though, I am here.
And that is enough.
I’m enough.
When we’re always striving for the next thing, we run the risk of no longer seeing the beautiful things that are right in front of us. I fear that our dreams can become a replacement for peace and presence. Without accolades, likes on social media, check lists, to-do lists or goals to smash, we can also feel unsure of where to focus our attention–making us miss out on the lives we’re living right now, in this moment.
I’m taking the approach that dreaming big can be a gift–as long as I don’t allow myself let my dreams distract me from experiencing the small joys of my every day life. “Big dreams” can actually be much smaller than we ever imagined—to live authentically, to be surrounded by good people and find small bits of whimsy in our every day lives—that too is a dream. Best of all, these dreams don’t have deadlines. They aren’t going to expire and they aren’t on a timeline. They are every present.
I think it’s ok to be mindful of what you have and practice gratitude. And it’s also okay to dream. We can have both: big dreams and living intentionally. We don’t have to choose. We can dream in the present moment and our value isn’t tied to whether or not those dreams are achieved.
Do I still want to reach for the stars?
Absolutely.
But I’m also reaching for the small supernova of moments, the ones right here, right in front of me.