What am I dreaming?

If you're like me, you're an advocate for following your dreams. Go for the gold. Reach that star and grab the brass ring!

And so, if you're like me, it seems almost sacrilegious to be looking for a job.

Yes, that's right. I'm going back on the market. Because, you know, I like to eat. And have walls between myself and my mountains when I choose. And I haven't purchased new shoes in AGES!

And I find the prevalent emotion I'm feeling is confusion. Because shouldn't I be devastated that my writing hasn't paid off? Shouldn't I be railing at the universe and tearing my hair and berating myself for not working harder, faster, whatever?

But I'm not. (Okay - I'm not anymore. I did already go through that frustration, and I thank all those who have listened to me vent.)

Now, I'm actually asking myself a different question.

Is writing really my dream?

Don't get me wrong. I love writing. I love the physical act of it, and I love the creation aspect. I love the mystery and the playing with words and the way things just seem to fall into place. I love the database of characters and the time lines and the 1000 different ideas I have stored away on the computer.

But...

But...

What does it produce? What does it do? What is the purpose of my writing?

When I put a book in a customer's hand, I know what I'm producing. There is a tangible sense of completion and accomplishment. There is a purpose.

When I reconcile a bank statement, or file a stack of papers, or even pay a bill, there is an immediate return on the energy investment.

When I listen to a customer or client, when I do a reading, when I sing at the bedside, there is an active participation of self and other. A connection, perhaps.

When I am writing, there is none of this. Even when I know I am writing for a specific audience. Even as I am writing this. There is no active exchange. There is no expectation of return.

This is a passive connection.

And I'm thinking that, despite my love for the writing, I need more.

Is my passion, my purpose, my dream (whatever it may be) actually more active? More direct? More immediate?

Because I have had plenty of opportunity to make this work, this writing thing. Options and avenues and learning moments. And I am still here, facing a story of great busy-ness, but little satisfaction. Even taking the monetary aspect out of the picture, I have little to show for all my trying.

I can honestly say I did my best every day. I lived my truth every day. And I remember days of great joy, coming down from the writing high. I remember profound statements and moments of philosophical rightness.

But here I am. Needing more. Redoing my resume; evaluating what I want to be next.

And the answer is not writer. Or, not only writer. Maybe writing is my hobby.

Interestingly, I always made the most progress on my books when I was employed full-time outside the home.

"No regrets" is one of my tools. I know that I could only have come here through the choices I made. I am grateful for the practice.

I am more grateful for the time I was able to give to myself - to the recovery of all the events that have transformed my life these last 7 years.

I am grateful for the ability to move ahead.

The future is going to be interesting. I'm looking forward to it, and to finding out what my new dreams are.

I hope you're having a great, and satisfying, day.

-Lila