We’ve all heard the expression “living the dream”.
In my adult life, I held the thought that dreams simply are just that, dreams. Slim chance of them coming true.. Otherwise why else would they be called dreams?
As children though, we enact our dreams every day. Make believe, day dreaming, creative play, imaginary friends. Somewhere along the line, as we got older and “wiser” that all came to a stop.
So, which version of “us” knows the secret to living happily, cheerfully, joyously?
Think about this for a moment. What we were unknowingly doing as children, was “manifesting” our dreams.
But of course as we grew up society, family, and our own obsession with expectations and keeping up with Jones’s, eliminated the reality of “living the dream”. The dream that kept us grounded and content within ourselves.
Sometimes, we even forget the dreams we held as 5 year olds. Somewhere between the age of 3 and 13 we started to lose our true sense of “self”. Our dreams were hampered by success, popularity, material gains and all that society applauded. The need to “fit in” wiped out the dream.
What was that dream again?
The picturesque ideal of the Dream.
The beginning of the dream:
The start of this journey fills us with hope and promise, setting the stage for the wonderful things to come.
My infatuation with living in the country existed as far back as I can remember. But it was always the English countryside. The rolling green hills, the old derelict churches, the thatched cottages, and picturesque churches and pubs.
The Australian bush and countryside was never given a second thought.
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I am considered a “city slicker”, I grew up a city kid in the 60’s-70’s. Melbourne was still considered a quiet city. We lived near what now is a major arterial road. A car would pass every 5 minutes. Now the traffic is at a standstill from 5am to 10pm most days. We spent all day outside playing on the streets. I would ride my bike to the corner Milk Bar to get mum her Vienna loaf, climb trees, climb onto the roof of our house, and crawl under the sub floor. I would be woken up before sunrise to the clip clop of the Drysdale horse pulling the milk cart and the sound of jangling milk bottles as the milkman did his exchange of bottles by our front door.
It was nothing like it is today. I guess that freedom and experiences leant themselves to how most kids in a country town now live.
My parent’s were country stock. Having been raised on farms, they still ran self-sufficient lives, using our backyard to grow vegetables and fruits and kept chickens for eggs. It was a rather grounding childhood.
Despite running rampant in suburbia, my dream insisted I free my spirit beyond the suburbs. The desire to run barefoot in paddocks, ride a horse, and buy my 5c bag of lollies from an old bluestone lolly store in a cobbled street was far too powerful.
Strangely though, not once, did I visualise the dream manifesting in an Australian town.
No…. It was always that peaceful English village with it’s village green complete with pond and ducks. Why?
Why the dream?
Well, dear reader, I can only put it down to the most simplest of things.
As an only child, I spent hours reading and dreaming and pretending. And some of the first books I read were written by none other than the most beloved children’s author, Enid Blyton. And the first book I read was The Enchanted Wood. Makes sense doesn’t it? I wanted to live in a thatched roof cottage next to woodland, filled with pixies and elves, and fantastical creatures where the trees spoke to you through their whispering leaves. I wanted to climb trees into the clouds and find myself in different mystical lands.
I did my best to re-enact every chapter in those books. My dolls were Fanny and Jo and Moonface and Mr Saucepan. Naturally, I took on the role of Beth, (the sensible, nurturing one). I would pack a picnic basket, a blanket and stock up with lemonade and berries. The fruit trees lining our back fence magically transformed to an mythical forest. I would imagine myself climbing the Magic Faraway Tree and would turn my mother’s “good room” into a magical land.
In my young mind, I was living the dream of growing up next to a mysterious woodland in England. And I continued that for many years.
It was safe, fun and magical. I badly wanted that dream to become my reality.
what happened to living the dream?
Fast forward to my 16 year old self. The dream had slowly dissipated, (although admittedly I would always dip into an Enid Blyton book now and again for a bit of an escape).
During my final years of secondary school, I developed an insatiable passion for Geography which serendipitously exposed me to endless field trips, and camps out in the rural regions. The weathered miner’s cottages, the higgledy-piggledy general store and the iconic corner pub surrounded with the ubiquitous Victorian lacework verandah bedazzled me. The nostalgia and history were captivating. It was a time capsule.
Occasionally, on these field trips, we would set up camp within the forest. It felt wonderful to be amongst the gums, smelling the damp earth and listening to the bubbling creek nearby. It was incredibly grounding. But never had I considered living out here. My inner child kept whispering reminders of living the dream in The English Country side. Although in all honesty, dear reader, I was already consumed by the urban culture.
The consensus was that a successful life involved a nice pay cheque, a respectable job, and a stylish house in a leafy suburb. The original dream slowly dissolved to make way dream for a revised dream. Something better. Something more impressive. How about becoming an architect living in a modern minimalist home in a trendy suburb within a short commute to the CBD? That sounded like a good idea. Didn’t it? This ideal was loaded with stability, respect, acknowledgement.
The dream of running barefoot in fields of wild flowers was rapidly vanishing in the mist.
Feeling safe and protected, came from a good job and a nice home in the city. No unknowns. No mythical dreams of talking trees.
Revelations towards rediscovering the dream:
It took 50 years of being inundated with society’s influence, re-inventing thoughts, living in a fast paced, rapidly changing city, sitting for hours in traffic, a time poor lifestyle, and stress, to finally come to an awakening. At no time in the last 40 years, did I ever live my dream. I may have fooled myself into thinking I did… But the lack of genuine fulfilment confirmed that all I had been doing was creating goals based on what was acceptable in society. Nothing rang true to me. Who was I?
I had to rediscover my dream. I learnt to meditate for hours to listen to my heart, I had to stop, pause and breathe. I found myself up at 4:30 in the morning searching for quiet and respite down at the local park well before the hectic pace started the day.
Dreams manifest at the most unlikely of times, usually when we least expect them to. The universe has its own timing. Its own agenda.
It has a habit of hitting us at the most inopportune moments.. But is the time ever right dear reader?
We are so engulfed by our over scheduled lives, people pleasing and trying to make ends meet, that we never give our dreams a chance to surface. We are so caught up in comfortable routines, that we dare not change anything in case of failure.
And so, the universe gained my attention by creating a series of events that birthed a period of dissatisfaction, sadness, feelings of loss and being unheard. Feelings not unusual to many women who have lived their lives serving others. Caring for family, nurturing children and ensuring the home hearth was always radiating comfort.
In so doing, there is little time to consider our inner self, and we risk losing touch with who we truly are. All which create inner turmoil and loss of perspective. The loss of the dream.
I found myself weeping tears of confusion in the middle of the night. I felt misunderstood. I felt angry. I felt despondent.
I turned inwards. I questioned my soul and my heart. What was missing? What did I want?
Manifesting the Dream:
After 2 years of soul searching, that quaint village lifestyle, the need to breathe country air, the need to SLOW down repeatedly kept coming up. It was time to make the change; but the change meant leaving the comforts behind. The change involved chasing the dream.
Despite desiring that quintessential English village life, common sense prevailed. The dream had to manifest somewhat in my own back yard – after all, family was still a significant element in my life.
I spent months traipsing the coast, the mountains and valleys of my home state.
The regular escapes gave me the opportunity to connect with the juxtaposition of the Australian landscape. Its harsh, unforgiving terrain and it’s challenging climate, are such contradictions against the gentle rolling hills of England. Yet, there is such raw beauty in the sepia coloured fields, home to gently grazing cattle and sheep.
There is vulnerability in the delicate structure of our forests of gum trees.
We are forced to look up the instant the sun’s golden rays vanish, giving way to rumbling dark storm clouds – that may, or may not bring rain.
Our country towns of of bluestone corner pubs, tin roofed miner’s cottages, dirt roads, cyclone wired front fences, and the wrought iron verandah gracing the front of every house exude a unique romance of their own.
I found myself falling in love with the bush I had camped in as a school student.
I fell in love with the towns I studies as a Geography student.
I fell in love with the Australian Colonial architecture I studied as an undergraduate architect.
I fell in love with the diversity of the landscape, and the iridescent colours of our fauna and flora.
With moments of trepidations and elation, I packed a bag, and made the move.
Gratitude:
Thank you Enid Blyton for exposing me to enchanted forests and whispering trees that are now only metres away from my doorstep. Thank you for making me believe in magical creatures, which I have many of in my garden, known as wallabies, echidnas and kookaburras. Thank you for allowing me to visualise the magical lands that exist in the clouds, because ironically, my home sits amongst the clouds for at least 100 days of the year.
https://houseonharmonyhill.com/the-homestead/
I am in a magical place.
I am Living the Dream.
How to start living your dream
Points to take away
- search deep
- spend time listening to your soul, heart and mind for 10 minutes every day.
- reflect on what gave you joy as a child
- journal your emotions daily. What made you happy, angry, upset, teary?
- journal the events that made an impression on you throughout your life. These are the clues to your purpose.
- plan out the dream
- start with the smallest steps that can be worked into your daily routine and the one that will give you the most motivation to keep going.
- check in with yourself weekly and monthly and ask if you following through? Are there obstacles? Why? Are these physical, mental or emotional blocks. Be honest with yourself.
- Dreams will only manifest if they are coming from a place that stirs your mind, your heart and creates butterflies in your stomach.
- Never be afraid to aim high. You have the ability to overcome the overwhelm and ride the wave to achieve your wildest fantasy.
Are you living your dream?