14 – The Fantasy Of It All

3/14/21

Out of curiosity, what did you dream of becoming when you were a child? What did you see in the world around you that caught your eye? I’m not talking about our capitalistic tendency to incorporate work and money-making into our lives from a young age; I’m talking about being. I was always amazed by people who controlled and perfected some type of movement in their bodies — still am. Specifically, ice skaters, dancers, and gymnasts made my jaw drop. The grace! The emotion! The skill! 

In my pride, in my refusal to take on failure as a possibility, I built my life upon skills housed in my heart and in my mind. I left tangibility at the wayside. And that’s okay — I’m learning not to judge little Leah for her fear.

At times, though, I get caught up in the fantasy of it all. I find myself wishing that someone else’s story was my own – it’s kinda like the grass is always greener but not quite. It’s like an author was writing my character and she went one direction and got halfway through and questioned her choice. It’s like standing on the edge of something really big and really beautiful and learning to notice all of the big, beautiful, messy bits but never getting to test your chops. Not knowing if you would’ve been great or if you would’ve failed big time. Watching each of your friends pick up and enter into a club with a bouncer who’s got it out for you. I’m here doing my things, the things that bubble up and spill out of me, the things that are like breath in my lungs, the things that bring me joy. The things that I’ve built my life upon.

But sometimes I wish that my things were yours. That I was pirouetting in pointed shoes, that I was editing the next East of Eden, that I was standing on a stage in front of a crowd of thousands with a guitar in my hands. A tennis pro or a Michelin star chef or a photographer who captures the ins and outs of life in ways that my words never will. 

There’s beauty in fantasy. There’s fun, there’s hope, there’s a stir to action. There’s appreciation for the things that are part of my life, and there’s appreciation for the things that are in yours. And maybe this is just an elaborate way to say that I really need to learn to play the guitar in the corner of my room, I don’t know.

I’m thankful to each of you who are reading this right now — you are a gift to me, and you’re a gift to the other people in your life! Happy Sunday.

Lightly,
Leah