Eleanor Roosevelt once remarked, "The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams." As this year ends, and we prepare for a new year to begin let's ponder a while. What dreams do we have? What hopes do we hold for the future? What came to mind when I asked myself this question, was a poem I first heard when I was a young woman in my Black Poetry class. The poem, "Harlem" by Langston Hughes reads:
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?
The images though harsh, evoke images of waste, rotting, drying out, suppressing. Those words speak to me of letting things go. They draw images of rotting fruit, what once was ripe and ready for picking and eating, now left to rot. Or to hang on the branch until it's ready to fall to the ground. And then we have the last line...evoking the violent eruption of a piece of rotting fruit that bursts its own skin under the heat of the sun? What drew me to this powerful poem as a young woman? The thought that perhaps I would never be able to achieve my goals, live out my dreams, or find my way to the purpose that now drives me?
I doubt that I would have known the answer to that question then, any more than I know the answer now. However, what I do know is that dreams come to us for a reason. The dreams we dream at night knock on our conscious mind to remind us of something we need to pay attention to in our waking lives. The dreams we have to do or be or create, or make or find, come to us from the well within us as well as the pull we feel from the connections we have to the Divine Universal fountain of Truth, what Jung called, the Collective Unconscious. Whatever 'it' is, the dreams we have for ourselves and the ones we hold for those we love, are so much a part of what sparks our creativity, our daily life search for meaning, and the quest we each have as humans to experience ourselves in the fullness of our being.
Some dreams are big dreams, ones that take years to accomplish, achieve, or create. We may long to learn something, to train ourselves or become capable of doing something of service or beauty or kindness for others. As I sit here on this snowy morning, looking out into the garden and yard, the doves flying back and forth in pairs, across the snowy lawn, from the snow-ladden branches of the pines to the back garden of the lady who scatters birdseed for them, I am transfixed by the simple beauty of life as it is in this moment. Living the dream.
For so many of us, these past few years have been times of great trial and loss. Grief hangs heavy over us all, even if we've not lost anyone. We are more than aware of how our losses travel with us, and may become incorporated in our dreams, our hopes for the future. A future without those who have been present, but are not more near enough to touch. A future which honors those we have loved so well or as well as we were able. A future which gives us each the chances and opportunities that have escaped those who are no more alive. The future which, for a great part, is up to us to create. To weave our grief into our hopes and dreams. To take what we can hold onto from the past that helps us build a new and more promising picture than we might think we can.
Over the years I have watched as others have experienced great losses, and then have gone on living. The struggles that many have gone through always seem to me like the feats of some of the most courageous people I know. With the weight of the losses strapped to their backs and hearts, they trudged out into life to carry on. To take some time when possible, to rest and weep and sit in the cold numbness of pain, but to then pull themselves to their feet to continue on. Sudden losses, seem the worst, and leave those left behind, unprepared for the shock. Whether by a sudden death from a surprising burst in the heart or brain, or from a jump off a bridge to the cold, hard, crushing murky waters of a suicide, the losses that happen suddenly, leave us with a gaping hole in our souls. And these losses either take us with them or require a difficult journey to find meaning and purpose in something that seems almost impossible.
Yet, there are so many among us, who have had the tenacity to go on with living and in so doing, to find new dreams and weave those shocking losses into the meaningful fabric of their own lives. Most often it is done through service to others, sacrifice of time and life to help those who suffer more. Or to throw oneself into ourselves into work, putting more meaning into each new day, because at the back of the mind is the thought that "if only it hadn't..." and that hope in the heart that 'if only I could...'.
As I look out the window today, I'm reminded of the last times I spoke to, saw, or even thought of those who now I go to in spirit to offer prayers of remorse, gratitude, sorrow, and love. The roses growing beneath the snow in my garden, from one who means so much to me, lost in May. Books, candles, memories of talks over glasses of wine, cups of tea and coffee, missed messages, and dreams of crossing dark rivers. Missing friends who just seemed to disappear, only to discover they had died, and I had not been told. Cut off from those who hold such a special place in my heart and life, but forgotten because the link that connected us was broken by death.
People offer condolences to we, the living, when we speak of those we have lost to death. It shocks me for who can console us for losing a piece of ourselves, while we still go on living? How do we console and offer sympathy to someone else? I do not know. How can someone offer me condolences, when I'm not the one who is lost. I am the one who remains and must carry on. I still have this one precious life, as Mary Oliver says, to live and to go forward. Not to refuse to bear the weight of my grief, but to use the burden and heaviness to find a way to break through to the tears and sorrow that release me from the fear that blocks my dreams, that dampens my hope, and that drags me down into despair where I cannot move.
What condolence I need is what Viktor Frankl found after a few months after being liberated from the concentration camp where he lost everyone he loved. Where he suffered torture and abuse and where he witnessed, man's inhumanity to his fellow humans. Walking through a field of flowers one day:
“We came to meadows full of flowers. We saw and realized that they were there, but we had no feelings about them. The first spark of joy came when we saw a rooster with a tail of multicolored feathers. But it remained only a spark; we did not yet belonged to this world.”
On yet another day a few months later, he walked through the same field, the flowers in bloom, and that time, he experienced their beauty. He wrote that he knew in that he knew in that moment, some part of life had flickered back into being within him.
Why I chose to write about grief and life's meaning and dreams today, is because, well because we are all wrapped up in all three. They are part of who we are as a whole society of human beings, and what our individual lives are often consumed by. All too often, we get lost in hopelessness, despair, or whatever weighs us down to where we can't function or dream. And for that reason today, I reach out with some thoughts about what is not easy about life, but what is so necessary. The need to keep awake to our dreams. A need to honor and mourn those we've lost. The need to find meaning and the impetus to keep moving forward, and the passion to fuel our dreams so that we can live our our lives with meaning and purpose...with some focus on soothing the pain of others and encouraging each other to live as fully as is possible.
I leave you with some final thoughts by Viktor Frankl, author, psychiatrist, neurologist, and founder of Logotheraphy, a third branch of Viennese psychotherapy. The main premise of logotheraphy is that the main purpose of life is to find meaning, regardless of what our experiences are.
*Written at a time when 'he' meant both he/she, I have taken the liberty of changing his quote to make it easier for some to not be distracted by the antiquated language usage of the pronouns. I hope he will forgive me.
“When we find that it is our destiny to suffer, we
will have to accept our suffering as our task; our single
and unique task. we will have to acknowledge the fact
that even in suffering each person is unique and alone in the
universe. No one can relieve us of our suffering or
suffer in our place. Our unique opportunity lies in the
way in which we bears our burden.”
What brings you peace? What dreams do you have? What purpose are you pursuing? As this year ends and a new one begins, you might find the questions that spark your imagination, motivate you to move forward, or invite you to ponder and find your passion for life and for living.
