DREAM HANGOVERS
Even for those unfamiliar with St. Ignatius of Loyola, the story of his dream life going "off the rails" resonates. Ignatius, a soldier who dreamt of being the GREATEST soldier/ladies man, had his dreams crushed when his leg was shattered by a cannonball in combat. Confined to his bed and stuck with the only reading in the house (religious literature--not his jam), he began, instead, to dream of a life of service.
This might be a pious little tale, except that Ignatius came to this conclusion after letting himself feel the aftereffects of his old dreams. Achieving fame, fortune, and romance, left him feeling empty. The chance to help and serve others left him with a different kind of feeling -- one of felt peace and consolation. He sat in bed long enought to REALLY notice how he felt. Yikes!
How many of us have gained something only to feel empty afterwards? Sitting with the "hangover" of achievement invites us to engage more deeply with our desires -- both positive and negative. Those desires that leave us with a kind of soft quietude are often a map to our true vocation in this world. The actions we take that leave us feeling peaceful and connected are the ones pointing to our deepest vocational call.
As the season of Lent begins, a season that calls pilgrims to "change the direction we look for happiness" (my favorite definition of repentance), take a while to look at the dreams you have achieved in your life, or those you hope to achieve. How did they leave you feeling? Sit with that, even if it's uncomfortable. Think about the last time you felt deep peace and connection. What had you been doing? What voice had you been following?
Even if Ash Wednesday is not part of your faith path, think of it as a time for pause, a time to remember that we, too, are passing. What is our work to do? Are we doing it? What will increase peace and connection both in our lives and in our worlds? Discomfort is not a bad thing -- and in fact, it can be incredibly useful.
For a Lenten challenge, take twenty minutes today in silence and really listen to your life. What do you hear?
— Alison Umminger Mattison