Wednesday, August 1, 2007 at 12:12am
Living a big-enough Dream
Column: New Houses from Old Bricks
Recently I spent time with old friends who farm 67 acres just south of Minneapolis. For someone who grew up in the suburbs and now lives in the desert, that's an extraordinary amount of "green" all in one place.
These friends of mine aren't just growing organic food to feed their family. They are growing a dream of sustainable living — a life that can be sustained as the fossil fuel supply diminishes. Their connection to their neighbors, integration in the local economy, and knowledge of organic methods are truly revelatory to someone like me, whose produce is purchased in plastic and whose car is like an extra limb. I watch wistfully as their young boys grow up outdoors — picking blackberries, caring for chickens, and shucking peas from the garden.
When I was married, periodically my husband and I would visit these farming friends together. We used to talk about — idolized, even — the way they were "living their dream." In their 30s, already they are living a life guided by their values in a way most people never achieve in their lifetime. Those visits inspired my husband and me to dream our own dreams, and examine how we were living our own values.
This recent visit had the same effect — except this time, it was just me and my dreams and my values. That dream of "ours" ended when the marriage did. Perhaps that's why I noticed some different things about my friends' dreams this time around.
I noticed, for example, that money can be tight when you're supporting a family on a small farm, even when you've inherited the land. I noticed the setbacks caused by weather (for example, significant losses in a recent planting of hazelnut seedlings) and changes in the local economy. I noticed the sacrifices in time and energy, and sometimes in other dreams that fell by the wayside.
Through all this, my friends have remarkable energy — when one thing doesn't work (i.e., the seedlings), they're ready to try the next thing. They take the frequent discouragement in stride because they understand something about dreams that I've never grasped: A dream worth dreaming occupies your energy and love and passion, not just for months or years, but for a lifetime. It's not supposed to be perfect, or guaranteed, or ever "done."
In the book "Big Questions, Worthy Dreams," Sharon Daloz Parks calls this a "big-enough Dream," a dream with a capital D. This is the kind of dream that you don't "possess" — it possesses you. The dream of this farm and the way of life it supports — that Dream lives through my friends, rather than vice versa. Perhaps we don't dream our biggest dreams at all — our Dreams dream us.
If the dream is big enough, it doesn't have to be "done" to give us great joy and satisfaction. If the dream is big enough to have a life of its own, even significant setbacks are not enough to defeat it.
So what do you do with dreams that appear defeated? It helps sometimes to look for the Dream behind the dream. For example, my friends keep focused on their values and way of life, without spending too much regret on an individual failed planting. In my own life, behind my failed marriage was a Dream of friendship, partnership and community. Visiting my friends, I could see suddenly that that Dream is alive and well, despite the end of that particular relationship. I see that, like my friends' farm, this is still a Dream worth a lifetime of energy and love, even through setbacks and losses.
Shortly before the farm trip, I watched the film "Babette's Feast," a tale of love and longing and regret. Or perhaps not so much regret after all. ...
General Lowenhielm as a young man falls in love with Martina. Since he cannot have her love, he pursues a successful career instead. Decades later, the old general enjoys a sumptuous feast in the simple home of Martina and her sister (prepared, of course, by the Parisian Babette). He raises a glass and speaks of redemption despite lost dreams and the setbacks of his own life:
"There comes a time when our eyes are opened and we come to realize that mercy is infinite. We need only await it with confidence and receive it with gratitude. Mercy imposes no conditions. And lo! Everything we have chosen has been granted to us. And everything we rejected has also been granted. Yes, we even get back what we rejected."
I trust that this is true, not only for the dreams we have "rejected," but also the ones that have been lost or defeated. And I trust that it is true even on a grand scale: As a Christian, I believe in a God whose dream appeared defeated by Jesus' death on a cross, but whose Dream shines through in resurrection. God's dreams for each person may appear defeated by illness, loss and death — but they are all part of the Dream of abundant and eternal life.
That cosmic redemption renews my faith in the redemption that General Lowenhielm articulates. It encourages me to join my farming friends in a durable, long-haul hope that survives setbacks of all kinds. And it loosens my grip on my small-d dreams, persuading me to surrender them to a Dream big enough to last a lifetime and beyond.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.
These friends of mine aren't just growing organic food to feed their family. They are growing a dream of sustainable living — a life that can be sustained as the fossil fuel supply diminishes. Their connection to their neighbors, integration in the local economy, and knowledge of organic methods are truly revelatory to someone like me, whose produce is purchased in plastic and whose car is like an extra limb. I watch wistfully as their young boys grow up outdoors — picking blackberries, caring for chickens, and shucking peas from the garden.
When I was married, periodically my husband and I would visit these farming friends together. We used to talk about — idolized, even — the way they were "living their dream." In their 30s, already they are living a life guided by their values in a way most people never achieve in their lifetime. Those visits inspired my husband and me to dream our own dreams, and examine how we were living our own values.
This recent visit had the same effect — except this time, it was just me and my dreams and my values. That dream of "ours" ended when the marriage did. Perhaps that's why I noticed some different things about my friends' dreams this time around.
I noticed, for example, that money can be tight when you're supporting a family on a small farm, even when you've inherited the land. I noticed the setbacks caused by weather (for example, significant losses in a recent planting of hazelnut seedlings) and changes in the local economy. I noticed the sacrifices in time and energy, and sometimes in other dreams that fell by the wayside.
Through all this, my friends have remarkable energy — when one thing doesn't work (i.e., the seedlings), they're ready to try the next thing. They take the frequent discouragement in stride because they understand something about dreams that I've never grasped: A dream worth dreaming occupies your energy and love and passion, not just for months or years, but for a lifetime. It's not supposed to be perfect, or guaranteed, or ever "done."
In the book "Big Questions, Worthy Dreams," Sharon Daloz Parks calls this a "big-enough Dream," a dream with a capital D. This is the kind of dream that you don't "possess" — it possesses you. The dream of this farm and the way of life it supports — that Dream lives through my friends, rather than vice versa. Perhaps we don't dream our biggest dreams at all — our Dreams dream us.
If the dream is big enough, it doesn't have to be "done" to give us great joy and satisfaction. If the dream is big enough to have a life of its own, even significant setbacks are not enough to defeat it.
So what do you do with dreams that appear defeated? It helps sometimes to look for the Dream behind the dream. For example, my friends keep focused on their values and way of life, without spending too much regret on an individual failed planting. In my own life, behind my failed marriage was a Dream of friendship, partnership and community. Visiting my friends, I could see suddenly that that Dream is alive and well, despite the end of that particular relationship. I see that, like my friends' farm, this is still a Dream worth a lifetime of energy and love, even through setbacks and losses.
Shortly before the farm trip, I watched the film "Babette's Feast," a tale of love and longing and regret. Or perhaps not so much regret after all. ...
General Lowenhielm as a young man falls in love with Martina. Since he cannot have her love, he pursues a successful career instead. Decades later, the old general enjoys a sumptuous feast in the simple home of Martina and her sister (prepared, of course, by the Parisian Babette). He raises a glass and speaks of redemption despite lost dreams and the setbacks of his own life:
"There comes a time when our eyes are opened and we come to realize that mercy is infinite. We need only await it with confidence and receive it with gratitude. Mercy imposes no conditions. And lo! Everything we have chosen has been granted to us. And everything we rejected has also been granted. Yes, we even get back what we rejected."
I trust that this is true, not only for the dreams we have "rejected," but also the ones that have been lost or defeated. And I trust that it is true even on a grand scale: As a Christian, I believe in a God whose dream appeared defeated by Jesus' death on a cross, but whose Dream shines through in resurrection. God's dreams for each person may appear defeated by illness, loss and death — but they are all part of the Dream of abundant and eternal life.
That cosmic redemption renews my faith in the redemption that General Lowenhielm articulates. It encourages me to join my farming friends in a durable, long-haul hope that survives setbacks of all kinds. And it loosens my grip on my small-d dreams, persuading me to surrender them to a Dream big enough to last a lifetime and beyond.
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Rebecca Schlatter.