If money didn't matter, who would you be?
Reconnecting with forbidden joys and buried dreams
As children, our imaginations were limitless. We envisioned ourselves as astronauts one day, actors the next, and deep sea divers the day after. We moved through the world with unfiltered curiosity, asking whatever questions came to mind — unconcerned with how we might appear in others’ eyes.
Somewhere along the line — usually once we reach our teenage years — this way of operating fizzles out. Our wonder, which once burned brightly in the fireplace of our psyche, dims to a barely visible flicker. The dreams we clung to steadfastly during childhood succumb to the pressures we face all around us.
Suddenly, it’s less about unstructured playtime and more about following timelines. We divert our cognitive bandwidth to school, careers, relationships, and the myriad responsibilities that come with adulthood.
Our passions and creative dreams become frivolous afterthoughts, ones we hope to carve out time for “one day,” a day which never seems to come.
Allowing Ourselves To Dream Again
Back in April, I finished The Artist’s Way, which I wrote about in depth here. This creative recovery program was enriching and eye-opening, not solely because it motivated me to reconnect with creative pursuits (poetry, dance, painting, etc.), but also because it helped me address limiting beliefs.
I’d always considered myself a fairly creative person, but there was admittedly a layer of guilt tied to this trait. Why should I paint/draw/practice winged eyeliner when there are myriad “productive” things to do? And if none of these hobbies help me make money, why bother?
Two of my favorite parts of The Artist’s Way were completing the “Buried Dreams” exercise (week four) and answering the “What would I try if it weren’t too crazy/selfish?” questions (week five). The purpose of each of these activities is to answer with whatever comes to mind first, to not overthink it.
When I sat down to take stock of my buried dreams, long-suppressed feelings of glee came to the surface. The seemingly impossible, in that moment, felt… possible. Here are few of the things I jotted down:
Take an improv class
Organize a festival of some sort
Host a radio show
Learn how to code
Wear graphic eyeliner
Bake a rainbow cake
And when I took stock of what I’d do if it weren’t too crazy/selfish, here’s what came to mind:
Get back into dancing/take regular classes
Try acting classes
Model
Write and publish a book
Express myself more through makeup (specifically eyeshadow and eyeliner)
My answers surprised me, because I’d never admitted many of these desires to myself before, let alone to another human. These endeavors might not make me much money (more often than not, they’d cost money), but giving myself the satisfaction of the experience would be priceless.
As I type these words, I think back to a poem my high school AP English teacher introduced us to: “Harlem” by Langston Hughes. He begins with the question, “What happens to a dream deferred?” I’ve come back to these lines often in the years since reading the late Mr. Hughes’ words. Which of my dreams have dried up “like a raisin in the sun?” Which of them have festered, or even exploded?
Though we can’t turn back time and revisit every buried dream, I take solace in knowing we have control over the choices we make now. We can lean into our curiosities and instinctive pulls, so that we replace “What if?” with “I’m so glad I did that.”
Finding Possibilities in the Improbabilities
Here’s another secret: a part of me has also wanted to be a DJ, a performing musician in a girl band (inspired by none other than the Spice Girls), a travel documentarian like the late Anthony Bourdain. I’ve also had dreams of traveling the world, specifically underprivileged areas, to work on different volunteer projects, sort of like I did during my post-college gap year trip.
I’ve had to accept the truth, though, that not every dream is feasible. Logistical and practical matters have to be accounted for. This doesn’t mean we should stop having the dreams, but instead, we can channel them in more realistic ways.
Perhaps the desire to be in a girl band is out of the question. But who’s to say you can’t dress up as them with your friends for Halloween? You could listen to music, read books, or watch movies originating from the country you’ve always wanted to visit.
I hope you never lose your ability to wonder, to let your mind entertain every daydream and fantasy that comes up. I hope you bring your own buried dreams to the surface, and eventually make them a reality. I hope you make memories that you’ll look back on one day and say, “I’m so glad I did that.”
Until next time,
Brina
Reflection
If all of your financial needs would be taken care of (for the rest of your life!), how would you spend your time? What would you want to learn, create, or bring to fruition? What type of person do you imagine yourself being?
How can you bring some of these visions into your life right now?
Creativity Corner
Article: “How to Reconnect With Nature Through Writing” (this Atlas Obscura piece discusses the power of using the natural world as our creative muse, and unique ways we can begin doing so)
Movie: Crossroads (I’m a little late to the party, but this 2002 cult favorite made me feel really happy and nostalgic. There’s just something endearing about road trip movies.)
Book: See No Stranger: A Memoir and Manifesto of Revolutionary Love by Valarie Kaur (a poignant, powerful read that’s especially relevant amidst the ongoing divisiveness we’ve been facing)
Listen, at your age, anything is possible. I never sang anywhere but the shower and a million hours in the car. But I wanted to let it out, and I sang a song as part of a music video I produced in 2020, when I was age 63. My film won Best Film at the 2021 Yuba City Arts and Film Festival—with me singing!! Haha it was very cool. I took an improv class a few years ago, it was enriching and fun times infinity.
To be on the stage non-rehearsed I loved it!
with your talents and work your putting into yourself I expect great things in the future. Never stop believing, Brina.