A few weeks ago, I watched a movie I haven’t seen in probably over 20 years, but I thought I remembered it quite well – the original Rocky. Released to a broken America in 1976, we were post-Watergate, at the height of the gas crisis, and bruised from the Vietnam war. Everywhere America looked, there was uncertainty. Prior to watching it recently, I would have said that I knew the story. I would have told you that Rocky fought Apollo Creed for the championship title (he did). That he was scrappy and poor in Philadelphia (he was). And that he fell in love with his future wife, Adrian (he did). But I probably would have also told you that he was the underdog who was unstoppable in his pursuit of glory, that he was the little guy out to beat the world, and that despite being down in the 15th round, that he came back and won with a knock-out (nope, nope, and nope).
The parts that I didn’t remember have more to do with his character—his vulnerability and self-doubt. Rocky was a wounded guy who held on to the sweetest corners of his heart and hid them under a rough and tumble, tough exterior. Rocky was complex. He was alone and unseen and feeling like his life was meaningless and his career as a fighter was over. He was a guy in need of a break.
So here’s the thing—I’ve been thinking a lot about dreams again. I know I’ve written about it before, but it’s something I keep circling back to.
When Apollo randomly chooses Rocky’s name out of a registry book of fighters, we as the viewer recognize that Rocky is finally being given his shot. The one he longs and hopes for. But when he’s called in to the office of Apollo’s manager and offered the prize fight, he actually seems quite uncertain. He thinks he’s being tapped to be a sparring partner, not a contender for the title. Sparring partner, he’ll do. Opponent of the heavyweight champion of the world? He is less sure. In fact, I’d say he wants to just say no.
The thing is that dreams make us vulnerable. In a world that so values action and results, to be a dreamer means that you are able to promise nothing. It means that you believe in something that doesn’t exist yet, and it is hard to put your heart into it when 4 out of the 5 people you share your dream with tell you that you’re nuts. When most of the people we meet, even the ones who we love and trust think that they are protecting us by pointing out the high likelihood of failure. They think they are protecting us when they say that our dream is a little nuts. That we should do something that is more doable, that makes more sense. They say they want us to succeed, and so they cannot let us believe something that will only result in our own hearts being broken.
You know what? It’s not you they are protecting. They’re protecting themselves.
No doubt they have had 15 dreams whither and disappear in their lifetimes. Maybe they took an honest shot at it and missed. Maybe they themselves were dissuaded before they could try. But for them to see you dreaming and aiming for something bigger is hard. It reminds them of what they haven’t done. It keeps everyone’s feet planted firmly on the ground.
I maintain that dreams should not be the things that feel readily attainable. They should be the things right on the edge of our comfort and our elation. They should be bigger than us and keep our head in the clouds, while our feet are running to catch them and help them come true. I would say that to qualify as a dream, the odds of failure ought be quite high. This is not an indicator of our ability, it is an indicator of the size of the dream. If it is easily attained, let’s call it a goal and move on.
If we are dreaming, let’s jump in and take big chances. To watch Rocky, with his dream just within reach, struggle to decide whether he wants his heads up in those clouds or not, made me think of how vulnerable it feels to not only have a dream but to reach for it.
The reaching invites us to fail. To falter and for the cynics amongst us to shake their heads knowingly, silently chastising us for even thinking we could pull it off in the first place. But I am increasingly convinced that without dreams, we are black and white versions of ourselves. Dreams are terrifying in what they ask of us and they are vast in their rewards. For Rocky, it wasn’t about winning, it was about going the distance. To even step in the ring was a dream come true. And it terrified him.
But here we are, in a world that can be as technicolor as we ask it to be. As we invite it to be. And so I invite you to ponder what your dreams are. If it is something with set markers of accomplishment and a possible end-date, it’s too small. It’s a goal. Let’s shoot the moon together. Let’s all be the little guy, unknown to the world, feeling the discomfort and vulnerability and let’s choose to dream BIG. To aim high and far and to tell everyone we know and trust what those dreams are. If head-shaking ensues, we will know they are not our dream-buddies. It’s ok. Just like any other points of vulnerability, find the people you trust and stick with them. Leave the head-shakers to their black-and-white, fear-driven decision to do only what is easily attainable.
Paulo Coelho brilliantly said, “One day or day one. You decide.” Let’s decide to make today “day one”. The first step toward whatever outlandish, impractical, unexpected dream you may have. Tomorrow is promised to no one, so let’s make this one count. Let it not be the “one day”, but the first day of your dreaming, technicolor, brilliant life.