Life fulfilled through living—the body we dream through. ᵈᵒ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ

We are all daydreamers. We were born daydreamers, and each of us will one day die a daydreamer. Why does that matter? Does it matter to you? Should it matter to us all? You’re here, reading this blog post, so I’m hoping it does matter and you do feel the importance of us being beings of daydreams.

Our time on this planet, as we each are today, may seem fleeting when compared with the vastness of time in general. There are moments I fluctuate between believing in the inconsequentiality and insignificance of life and how utterly incredible and awe-inspiring life itself is. I think there’s a profound beauty in the length of our lifetimes and that above all else, life is fulfilled through living. 'Mundane' moments matter—cherish them. The importance of life we can often imply belongs to certain emotions and not to others; then we perform the actions to reach the accomplishments that conjure up the emotions we wish to acquire—to feel & to fearfully hold on to—but fulfilment isn’t measured through achievements or a sustained joy. How much of what we believe is the right way to live is really just through our orchestrated and evolving socialisation? Our sorrows and our general days to days—the rising and resting—are real and wondrous and simply divine—a life fulfilled through living.

There’s so much I want to share, accomplish, and create. It's sad to say, but I've thought before, what’s the point in my life if I don’t create these dreams of mine? Might I as well just die. What's the good of me if I don’t live to help others, if I’m not contributing something? How ridiculous and horrendous—somewhat codependent? The world doesn’t need saving, and it’s not up to you or me or any one of us. There are many lives and so many ways to live, infinitely and uniquely—none can be defined in a decided deliberation as better than the other; we can’t measure the worth of a life, ever. And yet not all are equal either. There are no scales, rulers, or barometers for believing what’s better or parameters for praise or shame. (Note: this is, of course, not speaking of a life lived with acts of cruelty, or of those who intentionally cause others pain).

However you live your life, it will be well lived (just, please, do try to be kind).

Life is fulfilled through living. Breath and blood and the promise of tomorrow. On the day we exhale into the space we often drift off to in our day-to-day daydreams, (when we ‘die’) we’ll exist in our daydreams. I believe so. Alive, now, when we daydream, we transcend space and time and briefly visit the place we remember before this life began—is it shared or private, a personal or social experience?

Now, we exist with our bodies as a physical boundary, taking shape as a vessel to move about the earth and to interact with the planet and each other. I’d like to suggest that you take a moment to thank your body for living with you through your life. With our body we co-create, merge, and change together; soil and skin and synapses; the beautiful body we dream through. Our dreams beam out of our skin, as light dancing through our nervous systems, with a rush of blood to our heart, and a spark of knowing behind our eyes. Our bodies' and brains' capacity for dreaming is as expansive as time itself.

Last night, just before I was about to sleep, this sentence arose: "We are moving backwards in time, progressing to the past." I haven’t quite sat with it yet, but I’ll add it here in case someone else wishes to explore this too.

Last trail of these thought sketches. If I were to leave my songs unsung, would my life still be well lived? Yes! But it doesn't breathe right with me. If there’s something you wish to create or experience, then let it be part of life—don’t deny it, don’t force it. Live, and let life live. Who am I without what I create, whether the creations be visions beheld within, projected from the past, or remembered from the future, or as the physical manifestations of my creativity? Without them, am I still myself? If I don’t allow them to be created through me, am I committing a crime against life?

I didn’t start out writing to get to this question. I planned on a different course, but the words carried me here. I’ll stop. I’ll pause to reflect, or to run away?

Thank you, dear daydreamer, for spending some of your time here. You're most welcome to stay and read more.

Rose.