I was thinking today about how, after a decade or two working for a living, one reaches what I call the “Post-Dreaming Reality”.
Every kid wants to be a rock star one day, in whatever industry she chooses to call her own.
One day I’ll be a filmmaker! One day I’ll be a famous artist! One day I’ll be a CEO! One day I’ll be a Creative Director! One day I’ll be a Venture Capitalist! And so forth.
Then you get to a certain age and you realize that the time for “One Day” is over. You’re either doing it, or you’re not. And if you’re not, a feeling of bitter disappointment starts hitting you deep into the marrow. Which explains why we all know so many people in their 30s and 40s having mid-life crisis’.
The other day, someone fifteen years younger than me asked me what I wanted to be “One Day”.
I answered, “Doing exactly what I’m doing now, just with more money. And if the money doesn’t come, well, that’s a shame, but it’s not the end of the world, either.”
No more dreaming of “One Day”. I am here and now. This is it. I can highly recommend it. But I had to kill a lot of dreams, a lot of beautiful dreams, in order to get there.
[Apropos:] Bruce Lynn’s “The Death of Dreams”.