Being Enough

47 Dreams Left on the Way to Completing 101 Dreams Come True

For the last two weeks,  I've spent many hours in front of my computer going after my biggest dream - to have my fiction novel published. Though I finished the novel and have an amazing agent who loves the story, the novel has yet to see a publishing deal. My agent and I decided we needed to find ways to improve the story. So for the last two weeks, I re-entered the world of my characters and lived their lives, bringing some changes to how they saw the world.

While I was writing the novel, I lived in fear: would I be enough; did I have the talent; could I make it perfect; would this be my last chance? I realized that the dreams that are the most difficult to go after are the ones that take persistence and that will challenge me for years. It's not hard to get on a plane and go to another country anymore. It takes money and planning, but it's something that I've become comfortable doing. Jumping out of airplanes, or hang gliding, is an adrenaline rush that pushes my fear button, but once again I know I'm going to love the moment.

This morning I realized that the dreams that make me doubt myself are the ones that take courage to continue when there's no instant gratification. I have no idea if my novel will be published. My dream to complete my senior moves in figure skating will take years of dedication and hard work; I wonder if I will have the stamina to keep going through injuries, failures, and exhaustion. And the dream to say how I feel without need or expectation is not an easy one for me.

Last Sunday, I sank to my knees and cried my heart out. The pressure I had put on myself had become so intense that I felt wasted and drained. I wasn't a good enough writer and I couldn't make the story what I desired it to be. I hadn't skated much in the past month, how would I ever complete my dream of passing the tests. I needed to tell a coach that I needed someone different, but I was afraid of the consequences of hurting her so I was willing to stay where I was. I looked at the constant risk of going after my dreams and thought, this is kicking my butt.

On Friday, for better or worse, I turned in my novel to my agent. I spent the weekend celebrating the accomplishment. Then yesterday, I returned to the mindset of reaching for my goals and making lists of what needed to be done. Then my pastor said something I needed to hear, "You are already enough. Go sit in the sun and think of the sun as love. You don't have to be anything to receive sunlight. You don't have to be different or better, you just have to be who you are."

I realized that in my passion to complete my dreams and achieve my goals, I'm so afraid that I won't be enough, or that I'm taking the wrong path, that I feel like I must forge ahead without stopping. But it's when I play, let go, enjoy what I'm doing or what I'm working on, that life is sweeter.

I will always embrace challenges. It's a high to be extreme and push myself to the brink, but every once in awhile I need to step back and say, "I don't need to be more right now, I'm enough."

A Vision of Feminism

48 Dreams Left on My Way to Completing 101 Dreams Come True
www.101dreamscometrue.com

Jennifer Sleeman, an 80-year-old woman, from Ireland asked the faithful women of her country to boycott Sunday Mass on September 26, 2010.  She wanted “to let the Vatican and the Irish church know that women are tired of being treated as second-class citizens." Her call moved beyond her own country to a worldwide cry for women to stay at home and pray for change. She claimed that women were the majority of the church and that together they had the strength to tell the patriarchal heir achy that the power of the pews comes from women.

My Pastor was upset when he heard that women of his parish were considering walking out on September 26th. Our church is an open, loving community, where all people are accepted and treated equal. I could see why Father Anthony might be hurt when I told him that women, even in his parish, were angry, but he listened as I spoke. I told him that as women we are taught from an early age that we are second class and that the men of biblical times were important while the women were mainly whores, crazy, or simply unimportant. There are scriptures about women, but few are read during mass that give women a sense of pride. During mass on September 26th, he acknowledged the women of our church and the important role we play so that healing could begin. It was a step towards change with a long journey ahead.

I was born a feminist. By the age of five, I'd decided I'd never take a man's name. I didn't understand why I wasn't allowed to become a priest or even an altar girl. I wanted to know why professional sports were all about men. I was angry whenever I was told that I was a pretty girl and should marry rich. Even the women in my life, who always told me I could do anything, still instilled the idea that I needed to know how to cook and clean to be a proper wife someday.

As I grew into a young woman, I encountered feminist who ridiculed me for how I dressed and lived. They felt because I wore high heels, make-up, feminine dresses, and allowed men to open doors for me, that somehow I lessened the female gender. I disagreed.

There is a power in being a woman. It has nothing to do with hair color or breast size. It comes from the softness of being feminine, and within that softness is a power equal to, if not stronger than, the warrior spirit of a man. A man becomes speechless at the sight of a confident, sexy woman, who knows who she is. When that same woman looks at a man with love and the need to be loved, his heart belongs to her. Since the beginning of time men's Achilles heels have been women and the fear of women's power caused femininity to be suppressed.

Somehow in our need to find equality, women haven't turned to this power, instead they've tried to become more like warrior men. I think this has left many men wondering who they are supposed to be in relationships, in the work place, and in life. They've been asked to be softer, more emotional, and many are unsure if they are supposed to open a door for a lady and pay for dinner or if they are insulting the woman when they do so. It has created a generation of lost gender identities and many men have become what my friend calls, 'flow boys', I'll go with whatever you want me to be. A therapist once told me, "We are trying so hard to build our girls that we are burying our men." This leads to women being frustrated, men being lost, and no one being able to be who they really are. In our search for equality as women, we've somehow decided that men need to be less or different. How is this any better?

I was speaking to my friend Jane from Midlifeblogger, and she said, "The definition of feminism, is that women should be able to be whatever they need to be without judgment while being treated equal to their male counters. If a woman wants to stay home and raise her babies she can still be a feminist." Then she added, "You my dear, are the face of the new feminism. You can be independent, travel the world, like who you are, speak your mind, and still allow yourself to be a feminine, soft spirit."

The more I go after my dreams and seek a life where I believe I can have it all, the more comfortable I become with who I am. I've come to realize that I love being a woman and as I embrace my femininity, my softer side, I feel more power in who I am.

For many years, men have dominated. There are women who believe that it is our time to be on top and that men should be lessened in order for balance. In truth, women aren't conquerors and to become like men would only create more masculine imbalance. In our softness we need to see, that it is in accepting one another for the true spirits we are that we can find balance, equality, and happiness.

Impressionism and a Whirlwind Tour

801 Days to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

"Art is an abstraction; take it from nature while dreaming in front of it." Paul Guaguin

I love the Impressionists. As Robert put it, on my first night in Paris, "Most art is religious or stern portraits of royalty. Most paintings were created to show sacrifice or power. The Impressionist are colorful, bright pictures that make you feel alive."

What he says is true. Impressionism brings the softness of every day life to a place in your heart. With swishes of paint it reflects the light and color of the world. Instead of demanding you see the hard lines of reality, it blurs the landscapes into something serene and almost touchable, as if the world is in a constant state of peace.

To walk the halls of art lined with Monet, Degas, Renoir, and Van Gogh has once again left me in awe of my life. I'm so blessed.

It's wild to watch the other travelers rush through the museum. They stop at each painting for a brief moment and then move on. It's hard for me to understand how they can do this since I find it almost painful to look away knowing that I won't see these masterpieces again for many years.

I've noticed the rushing is true of many tourists, not just with art, but also with the great scenery of the world. I remember sitting at the Grand Canyon and watching people walk up to the edge, take dozen of photos, and then say, "Let's get some ice cream." I wonder if our fast-paced regular life has left humans with the inability to really experience the greatness this world has to offer. I think it's been forgotten how to stop and take in the present moment and in that the memory of how to really live is lost.

Paris is full of tour buses. The tour leaders sit up front pointing out the important buildings and monuments while half the passengers are fast asleep from exhaustion. This is the way most travelers see the world - whirlwind tours set to tight time schedules that leave little space for the unexpected. I want to yell at them to get off the bus and out from the hordes that follow leaders holding up closed umbrellas. Get out and experience the city you're in. Realize you're blessed to be standing in front of true magnificence and take more than a second to soak it in.

Okay enough of my rant for the day.

After the museum I walked to Notre Dame and began to stroll along the Seine to take in the setting sun and the way the light hits the buildings casting a golden hue across the facades. Within moments I was joined by a man named David. He spoke french and I forced the wheels of my memory to move as I listened. Actually, my french began to return a few nights before when an annoying man followed me to my hotel insisting I give him my phone number. Suddenly, my bitch came on 'en francais'. To my surprise he clearly understood what I said and ran away. So when David approached I could actually ask him in french to speak slower so I could understand. He did slow but I learned that David didn't take life at a relaxed pace.

Within moments he had my hand and was racing me through the streets of Paris showing me Hotel de Ville, the best chocolate shop in Paris, and the Royal Palace. He grabbed my camera, snapping pictures of me and then handed it to a woman to take a picture of the two of us. He danced me in the streets, hugged me to him, all the while kissing my cheek as I ducked and swerved my head so as not to be kissed on the lips. His enthusiasm was contagious as he had me laughing while he tried to enrich my knowledge of the french language and pretended we were going to go for a swim in the Seine.

He insisted we take the boat ride along the Seine, but I was tired and hungry by this time and ready to call it a night. I bid him adieu with a kiss on the cheek and made my way across the Seine to home.

Paris Shopping

803 Days Left to Complete 101 Dreams Come True

The last two days in Paris have been a blur. I've walked till I now need to buy a belt to keep my pants up. I've stood at the steps of Sacre Coeur while an artist drew my picture and begged me to stand still so she could capture my eyes. I've climbed the stairs to the top of the Eiffel tower and took in the beauty of Paris by night.

I window shopped at La Fayette, an Opera House turned into the fanciest shopping mall I've ever seen. The Parisians know how to capture a woman's heart. The first floor of this designer paradise was filled with a sea of bright-colored purses, french perfume, and if that wasn't enough to make my heart beat faster, diamonds in every shape, size, and design.

Five floors of luxury shopping decorated with balconies that led the eye to the stained glass rotunda. I walked each floor in a circle taking in the elaborate displays of Chanel, Dolce and Gabana, Gucci, and all the rest of the big names.

I couldn't actually buy anything due to my suitcase restriction, but I thought a little lacy indulgence of French lingerie couldn't hurt anything. I walked through aisles of delicate lace, satin, and embroidery and chose a gorgeous, sexy outfit only to have my excitement dashed by the price tag - $300 for a bra and panties. Oh my.

After shopping and walking for hours my feet ached with spasms. I found myself at the Louvre's gardens, Jardin Des Tuileries, where the locals reclined in chairs around the fountain as they took in spring's first sunny day. I joined them, propping my feet on the stone edging of the pool as I ate chocolate, letting in roll in my mouth as I took in the decadent taste. Ah Paris. I believe I'm deeply in love.