When I was a child, I dreamed of something completely out of reach.
Every spare moment I had was devoted to lucid and nighttime dreams of the day I would be a writer.
In my naïve way, I believed that when one became an adult, dreams magically became reality. And that was because I thought that adults had the power to create anything out of thin air. I saw it all around me, read about it in books.
All those adventurers, inventors, artists, writers, dancers, and bohemians had somehow created their own destinies. I couldn’t wait to grow up and become master of my own.
Steinbeck, Dickens, Hemingway, Potter, Tolkien, Austen, Poe, Bronte—geniuses of their craft, my heroes and heroines—gave in to their art, gave all to their art and made space for the only way they could breathe.
I not only wanted to write like they had but also wanted to know by what internal force they managed to remain undeterred from their goals.
Reality hit fairly hard when as an adult, I struggled to discover what others knew about manifestation. I decided that I was in the wrong group of adults—the group that had not been handed the right opportunities and skill set for dream building.
More about manifesting here…1 Essential Step to Living Your Dreams. It’s Not a Secret. | elephant journal