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Daydream Believer

I wonder a lot about everything.  My curiosity is a trait that I value because it makes me feel alive, which often manifests in excited enthusiasm, once seen as a symptom of mania in the world of mental illness.  I guess you could say I’m driven by an overactive sense of interest and fascination. It’s been fifty-seven years since I was three years old, but I have not stopped asking “Why?” I am a very passionate learner. About everything. There was a time in my life when that was stifled by adulthood, but I am grateful that it has resurfaced.


When I was in grade school, my teachers would scold me for being a “daydreamer” at school, and my mom would call me fidgety at home. Eventually those conditions were folded into the category of Attention Deficit Disorder and medicalized. But back then it was merely a sign that my mind had quickly grasped the rote subject matter and lesson that the teacher was trying to convey, so it drifted beyond, wandering to that “why and what if” space, a much more exciting destination called my imagination. It was the land of unlimited possibilities where creativity thrived. And I liked it.


I’m grateful for my counterparts in this realm. We are the visionaries, the inventors, the thinkers outside of the box, the dreamers who tinkered with parts in our parents’ garage until we stumbled onto some brilliance never seen before that eventually everyone had to have. The fresh idea that everyone wanted. That, my friends, is genius, not rebellious behavior or oppositional defiance. The difference is only in the words, but how you approach and define them will have significantly different results. Will they get a dreamslayer or a cheerleader?


In my career, I experienced the joy of listening to thousands of college students individually tell me their dreams, which usually had little to do with their academic achievements. Their eyes did not light up when talking about their grades. But get them talking about what they wish to contribute to the world, and they are blazing. This holds true with most people, college trained or not. Smile, be friendly and let others tell you their hopes and dreams and listen with curiosity. That is how love, laughter and learning happens. And how the innovative spirit is birthed into the world.


I shudder at what would happen if everyone stopped wondering.


FROM THE SANCTUARY

As spring quickly approaches, in my neighborhood, so do more bulldozers and excavators. Trees are disappearing quickly as the already sparse woods are reduced to rows of trees in developments and shopping centers. The increase in population and traffic relegates garden space to crowded plaza parking lots. Last summer I discovered a tiny village in southwestern Ohio surrounded by farmland and untouched nature preserves with no big box stores, one traffic light and minimal population. My dream of a bigger Sanctuary will be realized here. Keep your eyes open for my digital detox version of mental health, known as the Twelve Angels resource center.


Meanwhile, here Mother Nature is recycling herself in the form of abandoned bee hives, moss, shapely stones, withered feathers and hardy surviving pricker weeds and clinging rose hips, waiting for a chance to be renewed. An inch of my daffodils had the courage to make a valiant effort during a February thaw until they were covered by a seasonal snowfall. Left to its own devices, there’s always so much activity happening in a garden. Meanwhile, the deer come daily to play and forage on whatever they find. And speaking of playing, my squirrels obviously have been “fooling around” as they are gathering leaves in bunches and busily racing them up a pine tree all day long to put that nest together, a sure sign that those fur babies are on the way.


Wishing you much joy and love and lots of daydreaming.





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