Thursday, March 13, 2014

72/365 • the vulnerability of hope

Do you know what's scary about wanting for something, and admitting you want something?
The vulnerability.
The chance that that thing you are wanting might not happen.
You put the words out there and they hang in the air, and you expect them to crash and fall, and you wish you'd not come clean with your wanting, not even admitted it to yourself.

I realised not long ago, that I hide my dreams behind my phlegmatic, indifferent, easygoing personality. 
I lie to myself about what I need, or want. 
I pretend the dreams aren't there because they probably won't happen anyway.
I don't want to strive, and fail.
I don't want to need those dreams, because if I hope, surely there's disappointment attached.

But this discipline thing? 
It's got me doing, and being, and working and yes, maybe even a little bit of striving. 
A reaching, a stepping out... a vulnerability.

And yesterday, when an email arrived in my inbox, announcing that I "am a VOICE with influence" and have been nominated for the Kidspot Voices of 2014 Top Blogger Awards, I felt a combination of exhilaration, gratefulness, excitement and fear.
Because I had to admit that I want this! I can't dismiss it. 
I can't hide it behind a cool shrug of the shoulders.
I want to write. I want to get paid to write. The dream.
This nomination means I might get recognised for doing this thing, daily, that I love and that would be the biggest blessing of them all!

But I don't want to want it, and even now my heart beats quicker and my stomach is asking to jump out of my throat and I don't even want to hope that I would make that top 90.
Because I probably won't. 
And I'm grateful for the nomination (to that lovely who nominated me: wow! thank you!)

But I'm not gonna lie. As scary as vulnerability is. 
As wanting something is...
...there is a smidgen of this thing called hope.

And. Maybe we should hope for our dreams. We should give them our very best.
Who knows what we are capable of, if we hide from our hopes in those dark, lonely corners.
I think we are best in the light! We are best when we live large.
I think you are best, living large, in the light... so perhaps I am too?

Counting blessings, giving thanks.


PS I love when my rosemary is in flower. 

1 comment:

I love that you visited, and love LOVE that you took time to say hello!