The feeling that someone will love, support, and encourage you no matter what while you’re off chasing some crazy dream. That they got your back when you’re panning for gold under a starry Californian sky or planning a tater-tot party for two hundred.
Here’s a simple story because those are the best for emphasizing a point.
One time I entered some dumb contest to win tickets to a StarTalk show in the Bronx. It was on like a Thursday, six months away. I told someone my plot for adventure on the high seas and what I heard in return was:
You’re not going to be able to go. How would you get there?
I didn’t really care about actually going.
I care about dreaming because it makes me feel good, that I’m not letting life just pass me by while I’m sitting on the couch watching Bill and Ted and eating burnt grilled cheese.
And I also care about how people make me feel.
Any book is an important achievement, and you’ve put your heart and soul into this.
Pat someone on the back after they’ve busted their ass and you’ll have a best friend for life. Go out of your way for people and you’ll change how they feel about their place in the world. I missed that spiritual clue for the better part of my life.
Because it’s not about dreams coming true. Most don’t. It’s about the journey, of course. It’s about sailing those high seas with people that see the stars in our eyes and the wind in our hearts.
Sharing the ups and downs, the ebbs and flows with someone who cheers us on while we cheer them on with whatever their dreams and pursuits are.
When we love and enjoy regardless of what happens, life is magically voluptuous.
And then dreams we never knew were coming come true.
If I would’ve won a ticket to that Bronx show I would’ve just kept it. Then I could say, “and then there was that one time I was the glorious winner of a golden StarTalk ticket. But I didn’t go because I don’t like talking to people.” ↑
Dreams have to be within reason of course, especially if there’s money involved. I daydream all the time but I also tinker with realism and know when to quit. ↑
I’m convinced my vapors (or e-cigarettes as my dentist calls them) are rewriting my DNA. I’m totally serious, too. I never joke about nicotine stuff. Because have you ever been in nic withdrawal?
Anyways, this genetic rewriting conviction has me thinking that my bio cells are decombining and recombining, disappearing and reappearing, defocusing and refocusing, de’ing and re’ing in all sorts of ways the short term vapor health studies could never have possibly imagined.
My future generations will simply be fucked when trying to trace their ancestry via genetic cookie trail.
Looking on the bright side (because today is the best day ever) maybe I’ll become your local neighbor Spider-Man.