On broken dreams & being pregnant

Psst: I’ve moved. Visit me here http://streetsideconvos.com. Maybe the new blog will be for you. Maybe not.

“Hi nice to meet you, my name is Ebele.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

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“Tell me about your broken dreams.”

Maybe that is one of the questions we should ask these days instead of the boring “what do you do?”.

Without sounding dramatic I am surrounded by broken dreams. By these dreamers fighting not to be disillusioned but not knowing what to do with the heaviness that comes from dreaming.

“Why do I dream too much?” I asked Emeka in frustration.

“That’s what I love most about you” was the response.

So many hopes, so many ideas, so many blueprints for the future.

Yet all we have is today and no idea of what tomorrow will look like.

Listen in and hear the broken dreams all around you. The hopes getting sore from lifting reality-sized weights.

I hear them.

I also hear hundreds of millions of people in my age range are unemployed.

Suddenly it seems the map the teachers and parents and uncles and aunties gave us aren’t enough for navigating a complex world.

No this is not blaming. This is owning.

Owning all the little broken dreams that I once cried over (in retrospect they weren’t even mine).

Mourning and celebrating simultaneously the journey to embody the new dreams I’m now pregnant with.

I’m not a very realistic person and somehow that has worked for me.

So back sore from trying to push back against “reality” I hold on.

This must be spiritual, emotional, mental strength training.

My tribe mourns together. We confess our losses. We face the rejections that keep us up all night crying but we’d dare not admit because what if we came off as depressed? At least we have ourselves to confess to.

In one breath we talk changing the world and in the other our job search. In one phone conversation we talk being broke and in the next creating value. In one moment we are so scared in the other we are so courageous.

We celebrate too. Those little ways we are dropping the fear. That tiny step forward that no one else may see. In the midst of our broken dreams, there is something in us that knows so well that we are making the future with those broken dreams. That they are stepping stones not stumbling blocks. After all they didn’t die, they broke – wide open to set us free to dream closer to the centre of ourselves. They set us free to soften into more humane versions of ourselves. They set us free to learn grace.

We move forward into a future that may not applaud us for anything. We applaud ourselves; we’ve come a long way. There’s a long way yet. We’ll cry some more. We’ll laugh some more; and something about it all will have us all saying “it’s all good”.

To my tribe of dreamers.

You are one of them.

Here’s another : http://thetruecornerstone.wordpress.com/2013/09/16/fear-of-the-unknown/

 Pssst: Don’t be shy, leave me a comment 😉

What they didn’t tell you about change

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My first week in Calgary- somewhere in Inglewood

If you know me decently enough you will probably know that I moved to the States recently. Please forgive me if I am behind on responding to emails or comments, its been busy 😉

Last week I met up with friends to say goodbye and it finally dawned on me that I would never call Calgary my home again. Next time I’ll come as a visitor and while I would still know all its corners so well, it wouldn’t be the same. Some people that I met in Calgary will go just like me. Everything will reshuffle.

While I have made so many major moves in my life, it seems that as you grow older you start to be more reflective about choices. It don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

Especially since I will be in Colorado for a while, I had those moments of wondering-  should I or should I not, will it be worth it? Don’t I need to just dig in my roots somewhere?

Am I sure? Really sure? Really Really sure?

While I don’t have an answer to that question, one thing I know for sure is that this year God has been calling me forward into that sense of focus that comes from trust.

Life only happens once so how could we be sure of anything?

We could never really be sure of every move. We could never predict if it was right or wrong, we can never predict how it will change us, we can never predict how it will work out, we can never predict how it will impact our relationships. The best we could do is trust and to die trying to follow that sense of calling that only us can really understand.

I knew those tears were coming eventually, I just couldn’t really figure out when. Its always been the same. It would start with apathy and just doing all I needed to do but my breakthrough always came after I cried it out, grieved that part of me that is dying and finally embraced that part of me that is reborn.

Even as I sorted through clothes figuring out what to take and what to leave behind, so would my emotions and personality and relationships be sorted out too, sieving out what’s not helpful anymore and strengthening new connections.

With every transition, whether it is committing to a relationship, moving to a new place, moving houses, welcoming a child or saying goodbye to loved ones who pass, that liminal space between one end and one beginning can be very complicated.

While we are told that its for good, and to be strong and to be excited, I think we also need to begin to say that its okay to not be excited. Its okay to not be sure. Its okay to grieve even when we are supposed to be excited about good news. Grieving simply means we are closing one chapter and in the same way letting a new chapter unfold.

So if you are like me and you have moments where you think you are supposed to be excited but find only apathy or maybe apprehension, remember that it is more complicated than that. Give yourself room to grieve. Then let go- and TRUST.

My tears are so powerful. After them I become ready to move on and start another new beginning.

in Stanley Park, Vancouver

Silence

She saw more than she would ever tell

it was obvious the secrets she tried to hide

and how well-hidden they stayed

She knew more than I would ever be told

and her silences were more telling

than the words she used to paraphrase them

So there we sat in silence; silence upon silence

the occasional tear like rain on sun-scorched earth

trying to break through in vain

When she recalled the futility of tears

she would wipe them away briskly

with the back of her hand, pretend to forget

but was it possible to forget?

Not one, not two, not three

that she loved sacrificially, loved severely

loved beyond reason; gone, taken, one by one

somewhere beneath the same sun scorched earth

so there she sat, trying to break through

with tears; in vain

 

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