I’m noticing the difference between what I say and what I do.

There’s a gap spaced – this wide – between the dreaming and the doing, the imagined and the actualized.

There’s power in this noticing and a certain freedom in the observation.

I know.

I would’ve thought there’d be judgement too, but there isn’t. No blame either.

There’s just me. And those dreams I can see but haven’t yet reached for.

We make time for what’s important to us.

Upstairs, three chests rise and fall, sleepwalking through their dreams while I sit here alone at the dining room table face to face with mine. It’s early. Dark. And quiet. The clock across the room reassures me:

There’s still time. 

I’m tempted to explain. Offer excuses. But that’s only another way to delay. It’s another diversion away from what I say I want. And the clock’s still ticking away up there on the wall.

So here’s what I’m thinking: I choose.

Every single day. I choose the dream and the doing – or not.

Because that’s the thing. They’re two separate actions. Dreaming. Doing.

Maybe some dreams stay dreams living in place on the outskirts of day-to-day living. A dream meant only to delight, to savor. A moment of diversion from all the other doings in our lives..

A dream. The doing.

There’s time for both.