Your Dream is Calling

Fear can keep a person from achieving a dream they were born to accomplish. It can latch onto one's life at the onset of youth, when the world is waiting for the glorious triumph of a foot taking a step in the direction of destiny, or, it may come at the moment of decision when approaching the crossroad of a new season.

I was having coffee with a fellow student in the cafe one morning this week, and while we were chatting comfortably, I asked her what direction her life would be taking after college. She gave me a vague answer of possibly getting an Associates Degree in business so she could get a manager position with a company. Sensing the lack of enthusiasm in her voice, I asked her what she would really like to do.

"Oh, I love Opera!" she exclaimed instantly.

"You love Opera? Then, why don't you pursue Opera?" I asked, incredulously.

"I didn't think I could pursue it because I have this fear of getting up in front of people," she admitted slowly as she looked down, her shiny curtain of hair hiding the glimmer of tears that shone in her eyes.

"Well, do you love to sing?" I asked, hopefully.

"I've been singing since I was five," she quickly replied.

In the remaining ten minutes before class, I encouraged her to never let fear keep her from her destiny. If that destiny was Opera, and she loved to sing, then she should pursue that with every fiber of her being. "To heck with fear!" I exclaimed, for emphasis. Those words came back to haunt me the very next day.

It started with a flyer that was posted on the bulletin board, inviting writers to attend the Creative Writing Club at Forsyth Tech, which meets every Friday. Having decided to 'suck the juice out of college,' as I had so boldly declared to my husband when school started, I headed off to join the club, notebook tucked firmly under my arm, while fear put a strangle-hold around my neck.

I nervously sat down at the conference table, facing Sammy, the Club President, who instantly reminded me of Jo, in Little Women, with her literary hat cocked sideways on a long braid of fly-away hair. Next to Sammy was Eliza, the Advisor to the Club, whose bubbly personality and warm wit began to loosen the fingers of fear digging in my flesh. They had brought their recent works to be critiqued, and as they read the words of their poems, voices dripping with emotion and feeling, I was caught up in the beauty of their lines.

It was an energizing hour of being stretched to the margins of my creativity, as I read one of my blog posts and asked for their feedback, and then participated in a writing prompt exercise. I left the class with some new ideas swirling around my head and a bit more confidence to make my writing better and to expand into other areas of writing creatively.

One day, I hope to sit in the front row of the Opera to see my friend fulfill her dream. Another day, I hope to walk into Borders and see my published book in the hands of a person at the long check-out line. In the meantime, I will keep fighting fear, that grotesque giant that tries to stand in the way of my destiny. I cannot give in to its crippling suggestions, for my dream is calling.