When I listen to the stillness lurking behind every frenzied activity, I hear the murmuring of discontent. It’s a familiar discontent that has haunted me ever since I began to dream. The curse of being a dreamer is you’re hunted by unmet dreams. Your life becomes less about chasing dreams and more about silencing them. You remind yourself there are legitimate reasons for putting a pause on all the things you said you would do. But that rationalizing does little in placating the deep-seated feeling that you’re meant to do something great. So, when you’re clearing the snow from your driveway because your postal deliverer left a note asking you to clear it, you grumble at knowing the last ounce of energy is being spent on yet another menial task. (The night before I spent several hours awake tending to a teething toddler and a whiny-ear-ached Kindergartner so it’s understandable that both the physical and mental energy required to scrape unforgiving packed snow from cement would wipe me out for the rest of the evening.)
But here I sit writing words as an act of defiance.
I’m tired and am still fighting a cough that’s more relentless than any telemarketer I’ve encountered. I feel anxious about all the tasks I need to complete tomorrow and the stress-inducing decisions I will need to make. My biggest panic is worrying that tonight will be a repeat of tomorrow night. Please, Dear God, release a million milligrams of heavenly melatonin into their little bodies!
There is little control I have these days and yet I’m fully aware I create my inner world. I can’t negotiate my insecurities and disappointments with the outside world because it is harsh, indifferent, and unforgiving. Instead, it’s my interior life I need to pay attention to. It’s here where Creator meets me and says, “Settle down, Omar-you’re being overdramatic.”
The highlight of today was when I picked up one of my sons from school. His eyes smiled as wide as his mouth when he saw me outside his door. I’ll treasure that. When we drove home I sang him songs my Dad used to sing to me. Maybe that’s a fraction of what greatness is: being able to pass something to the next generation in line, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. It’s a silly song but it’s a song that makes him smile. Tonight when I sleep and listen to discontent begin its gentle growl, I’ll remember my son’s smile and I’ll smile too.
You write with such force and beautiful poetry my friend. Your words are part balm and part energy-drink. Thank-you.
You are a great example and inspiration to me, my friend. You offer sage advice worth remembering.
Ah! Thanks, my friend.
So good Omar, thank you!
uuugh, yeah.. there are so many routine tasks that are required to stay above water. and sometimes they seem like they are in direct opposition to our dreams and passions.
I often have to step back and try and look at the wide shot, instead of getting bogged down at all the closeups.
Be encouraged. you are a great father, you kids know it and feed off that as they grow taller. You are pursuing your dreams, something not many can say. and you are encouraging and loving others along the way. Id say thats pretty damn good.
Ive also been encouraged in my art career. Its been a slow progression. one that i could have been discouraged along the way with unmet expectations or unrealistic goals. but instead, one day at a time, slowly doing things for the right reasons, and following our hearts, and then soon enough we look back and see the change/progress as we are standing in our dreams, not just desiring them!
Love you brother.
Greatness is a myth of the present, Omar. Keep living into the little moments with care, tenderness, and passion. Keep touching all the lives around you in subtle ways. Keep taking care of yourself. If history writes you as great, then so be it. But, in the lives of those you love and walk with, the memory of who you were will be great. To them.
Thank you for your continued vulnerability. May you be blessed and at peace as the weekend approaches.