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Home  Write Spot News Death of Dreams
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Death of Dreams |
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Written by Brent Hundley
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Thursday, 21 September 2006 |
When did the dream die? As a child, each day was an adventure. I embraced the morning, expectantly waiting for wonders to unfold. There was anticipation and satisfaction in a bowl of cereal. Sunlight and birds or rain and mud brought equal delight. Every experience was savored and enjoyed. Who was the assassin of innocence, the killer of joy?
Dylan Thomas, in his poem “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night” spoke of those who would “rage, rage against the dying of the light”. What then, is that light which is dying? The wise and the wild, the good and the grave all seek to hold on to that light. Is it death of which Thomas speaks? For me, that dying light speaks of the death of dreams.
Everyone has them. I’m not referring to the dreams of night. Rather I refer to the dreams of life and light. Each of us cherish our own. They are made up of expectations and desires. Expectations that life will get better, that I will achieve, grow and enjoy. Yet, as we get older are those expectations realized? Does each new day give rise to joy? Is our life better?
There is that within me, which I seem unable to articulate. It is a frustration and anger, gnawing and growling to break free. It is my pain in the knowledge that somehow life is not what it should be, nor what I desire. Maybe it is my rage as I witness the dying of the light.
“Grow up!” “Go away, I’m playing with someone else.” “Act your age!” “You can’t do that.” “Stop trying, you aren’t any good.” “I don’t like you.” Every day, actions and words cut like knives. They bleed the light from our souls. Thoughtless, intentional or careless, it doesn’t matter; innocence and joy are lost.
Why? With something so precious and dear as the light of life itself; we squander our own and steal it away from others. Events, over which we exercise no control, tend to beat us down. “I’m sorry, but your sister is dead.” “The promotion went to Matt.” “My wife is in the hospital.” What is within us, that faced with daily tragedy we still actively seek to extinguish the light around us?
In Walden Pond, Henry David Thoreau wrote “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” By observation and personal experience, it is a view to which I agree. Whether our life becomes a quiet desperation or we rage against the dying of the light; our light appears to be seeping away into the darkness of the void. Articulating the problem brings us to the point of decision. Do we slide into that eternal night or do we rekindle the light?
Every smile, laugh or act of kindness brings the light back into life. Each act of love breathes joy back into a bleak world. I’m tired of quiet desperation. I am not satisfied with impotent raging. I want change. If life is to become better, it must begin with me. I shall smile and laugh. I will act out kindness and compassion. I will love.
Rage if you want. I’m going to grow light in the darkness. |
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Last Updated ( Thursday, 21 September 2006 )
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