Risk Taking

Once there was a girl who was twenty years old and looked at the world and wasn’t happy with what she saw. She lived at her home with a father who loved her. But didn’t know how to show it. And with a mother who loved her. But didn’t know how to show it.

She wanted so badly to imagine a world in which everything was lovely. A world in which she could dream whatever she chose to dream. And those dreams would come true. But she knew that world wasn’t possible. Because people who were much older and “wiser” than her said so.

One day that girl went to a yoga class and met a boy who was eight years older than her and appeared to have lots of experience. He had traveled around the world and had seen many things. And while other boys liked to talk to her about the last goal they scored in soccer. Or whatever.

This boy wanted to talk with her about a love that he was connecting with. Not a love to another woman. But rather a love for others and the world and most importantly. Himself. It was a love that had just begun to change his life. It wasn’t done changing yet. But man oh man…

The girl thought the boy was weird. He didn’t belong to a particular religion. He wasn’t trying to sell her anything. And he didn’t seem to have plans to pour alcohol down her throat. Yet he still wanted to talk with her. To know everything about her. And to talk about love.

She asked him why. Her. Why not talk with any of the other girls at the yoga class. And he was very clear with her. It was her eyes first. Then her energy. And then a voice that spoke to him. But none of that mattered really. At least not now. Because he had to know her.

She walked to his house after yoga class – only because it was on the way to her university class. And they spoke for six hours. And the girl told the him that she had dreams too. That she wanted to know her heart. And help people and stuff. But she didn’t know if it was possible.

Because in this world life is hard. And dreams don’t come true. And all you can do really is keep fighting. Even when everything sucks. And most likely everything will suck. Often. Thanks to capitalism. And globalization. And stuff. And that’s just how it is.

The girl didn’t kiss the boy when she finally left his house – after missing her university class. In fact, she didn’t even think about whether she wanted to kiss the boy. Or whether he wanted to kiss her. Because why would he want to kiss. Her. When he the whole world is open to him.

When she went home, she tried to focus on her studies. To ignore whatever had gone on between her and the boy. And ignore her father. Who was screaming at her for something she did. She couldn’t ignore her father. She had to scream back. Tell him that he is an awful man. Just awful.

When she went to sleep that first night, the last thing she thought about was the boy. She’d have preferred for it to be what she studied about the pineal gland. Or what she watched on the television. Because those thoughts would have been grounded in a reality she knew.

But instead, she thought about the boy. About the way he talked. In a language that wasn’t his own. A language that he’d rarely spoken in his life. Searching for words. And always seeming to find the words to say what he wanted to say. While looking into her eyes. Like that.

Her last thought was a question that she didn’t want to ask. That she did everything to avoid. But that stuck in her head nonetheless. The question was this: “Should I risk letting this boy into my life… or should I keep him as far away as possible so that I don’t have to. Dream?”

This story goes on. And there are many other lessons that we can glean from it. But I want to stop here because this is the crux of it all. How do we dream… when we’ve been taught that dreams don’t come true? How do we take a risk… when we’ve been taught that risks don’t pay off?

I’ve been obsessed with these questions for the past few months. As I’ve traveled through countries where people have been taught not to dream. Because it isn’t worth it. Their dreams don’t come true. And it makes me so sad. But it also fills me with hope.

Because if we’ve created this world on the backs of people who didn’t know how to dream. Imagine what we can do when we decide to give up our attachments to the shadows of ourselves that are afraid to dream. And instead, open ourselves up. To beauty. And learning. And love.

I want to tell you how the story ends – it doesn’t end really. To this day, the girl has stayed indecisive. Straddling two worlds. One in which dreams don’t come true and one in which perhaps they do. And she is unable to make a choice. And it’s been killing her. For months now.