Dwell In Possibility

This is the wooden block that sits on my kitchen window. Every day I watch the sun setting miraculously behind it. Every day I look upon these words and think about their wisdom. Every day I am struck by the beauty of the sun leaving me with this thought. Dwell in possibility.

Sometimes it feels as though my whole life revolves around possibility. The world burns with possibility, with potential, with the idle dreams of dreamers. I like to think that people’s wishes, fulfilled or unfulfilled, hang in the air for the rest of us to step into when the time is right. I know I’m not the first person to want the things I want, to believe the things I believe. I know I’m not the last, either.

I’ve been thinking a lot today about what Deb said, about how fear prevents us from moving forward, from acting on our desires. I know the feeling all too well. Procrastination is hardly ever simply a matter of laziness. It’s about avoidance. It’s about being unable to face one’s fears and apprehensions about what needs to be done. I worry that there’s too much of that in my life.

I worry that without the help of my mother and friends pushing me to do what I need to do, I’d be incapable of doing anything. I’m good about acting on my instincts, about listening to my heart, but I have so very much to learn about taking the necessary steps. I have so very much to learn about trusting myself.

I used to think that without anyone else in my life, things would be easier. I know that it’s illogical, but part of me wished that I didn’t have so many ties to loved ones. It would be so much easier to be free. It would be easier to pick up my things and leave to travel the world. It would be easier to have no plans and no definition of myself. I felt like it would be easier to change my life if so much of it wasn’t already happy.

I know that it sounds awful to say such a thing. Why would anyone want to give up happiness? Well, I don’t know, but a part of me always has. A part of me would rather constantly dwell in possibility, in what could be, instead of what already is. It’s somewhat difficult for me to accept contentment in my life.

I am, in so many ways, content. I am joyful and blessed and happy. I am lucky enough to like my life. Still, there’s always that possibility of more. And I hunger for it. I long for those things I have yet to discover. I long for that life I have yet to live. I long for change.

But those changes are yet to be defined. Maybe out of fear. I could write out a whole list of things I want to do before I die, but I’m afraid of the sadness I’ll feel if they never get done. I’m afraid of the possibility of failure. I’m afraid of that possibility in which I dwell.

Dwell in possibility. I suppose that means both the good and the bad. I suppose all of life is taking risks. Some things work out, some things don’t, but the only regrets to be had are those not tried. Sure, it’s a generic idea, but an important one to keep in mind. It’s important to remember that every thought and action and dream presents the potential for more. It’s important to take each chance no matter how great the fear behind it. It’s important to dwell in possibility.

Dwell in possibility.