A great man once said, “I have a dream,” and he lit the fires of possibility in people’s minds: of possibility for change; of possibility for growth. He had a passion that fueled the imaginations of the people of this country. He had a dream, and he imagined a place where people worked together to build lives where no walls of separation existed and no doors were closed to opportunity.
Can you imagine?
Another great man said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world,” and he, too, lit fires of possibility in the minds of the downtrodden, the underclass in India and Pakistan. Those whose dreams either never existed or were carefully tucked away, hidden from sight to keep them safe. They were shown that their lives could be different; shown that they could bring their dreams out of the closet into the sunlight.
Can you imagine?
What dreams do you have that you have put away for safekeeping? Have you carefully wrapped your dreams in colored silk scarves or in white handkerchiefs? Have you put them in a box in your bottom drawer or some other place to keep them safe? Do you protect them from the outside world for fear they will be ridiculed as foolish, or too risky? Perhaps it’s time for you to bring them out. Perhaps it’s time for you to take that risk.
When I was a child, I was so shy I was afraid to talk on the telephone. I was afraid to stand up in class to answer the teacher’s questions. My life was filled with fear. It was as though I was tied up with thick ropes that were formed by other people’s beliefs about who and what I should be. Ropes that were also formed by my own fears of being hurt, laughed at, and told my dreams were wrong. I was a girl in the 50s, a time when most women didn’t push boundaries. My life was dictated by “keep your head down and don’t make trouble.” Oh – and never, ever wear bright colors. They were garish and trashy.
However, somewhere inside me was someone bigger, bolder and braver. Someone who wanted a life of brilliant colors and all the things I had been told I didn’t deserve, couldn’t wish for and could never have. And I began to make trouble because trouble was the only way I could think of to be other than what I had been taught to be.
I wish I could tell you that I immediately could imagine who and what I wanted to be. But that wasn’t what happened. What I did do was push every boundary I could find, just for the sheer joy of being bad. Completely bad. And doing everything I had been told not to do. I took every foolish risk I could, once coming waaaay too close to being nabbed for distribution of pot by a classmate in college who, I later found out, was an undercover narcotics officer.
I began to break free of the ropes.
At some point in my early 20s, though, after burning through most of the “nos” I had been carrying, I finally began to be able to see what I really wanted. I began to be able to see a life for myself fueled and directed by the fires of my imagination. I got a job at a small stock brokerage house and became one of only two women in the country working on an over-the-counter securities trading desk.
After the birth of my beautiful, beautiful daughter Rachael, I went back to college and began working my way up the corporate ladder at American Express, becoming one of the first women hired in sales at Amex. I took flying lessons and got a private pilot’s license in 1978 when only 11 percent of the total population of pilots in the country were women. Eventually, I got a master’s degree and became the first in my family to obtain an advanced degree.
I began to imagine.
I started life afraid. I started life bound by others’ definitions of who I should be. But I imagined something different for myself and made it happen. I learned to take chances. I learned to be as careful as it is possible to be, while standing on the edge of a life imagined but untried.
I fell. A lot. And hard.
I learned to get up after falling; to keep going. I learned that the end of one dream doesn’t mean it’s the end. It means there’s another one, somewhere, waiting to be found – if you can imagine.
My life certainly has not been lived at the scale of magnitude of a Martin Luther King, Jr., or a Mahatma Gandhi. Those great men, though, are examples to me – the first of massive oratorical skill, and the second of simplicity and doggedness. Both had ideas they wouldn’t let go of.
They imagined for the world. They imagined a world they wanted to see, and they worked to make it happen. They also gave their lives to make it happen. But we don’t have to make that sacrifice. It’s not necessary. All we have to do is learn to bravely be who we are.
Somewhere in your lives is a spark that you can fan that will set your dreams free. Bring it out and blow on that spark. It’s waiting for you.
Can you imagine?
