Die for your dreams

A few weeks ago while walking downtown to meet a friend for an afternoon coffee, a stranger asking for directions approached me.  At least, that’s what I thought he wanted. Pulling out an ear bud, I paused and waited for his question.  After a few seconds, he conceded that he didn’t have one – he just ‘thought I was cute’ and that ‘we should chat’.  And so, in spite of the sweltering heat,  two strangers slowed down and quickly uncovered some commonalities. 

Will had come to Toronto from Germany to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, a quest that was currently being conducted from the couch of a friend.  I had just returned to Toronto, fully engaged in a similar quest, based from my brother’s couch.  Both of us had professional degrees, had traveled extensively and were deeply committed to finding a meaningful place in the world.

The day before, Will got a tattoo.  As our conversation progressed, he rotated his forearm to give me a better view.  In gothic script it read ‘die for your dreams’.  Of course this pleased me greatly – not live, but die for your dreams - what verve!

Since our encounter, I’ve thought about these words a lot.  First, the fact that I was sought out by a stranger who had tattooed on his body a message whose essence I have adopted as a mantra reaffirms my strong belief that somehow we are all connected.

Secondly, I’ve been reflecting on the power of such a statement.  It demonstrates a willingness to put all of yourself on the line for something.  I’ve always admired that type of determination and in some ways have been waiting for the ‘something’ that would put me to that test.  That Will, who is still searching for ‘something’, is so unapologetic in his commitment to this search is inspiring.  What does it matter what your dream is? We are all going to die, that is for certain.  But what if in the meantime we all gave ourselves permission to put every ounce of our energy into things that we believe in and that inspire us? What if we died for our dreams?

Let me be the first to acknowledge that living this way would be extremely hard.  In fact, I consider it the challenge of a lifetime.  But I am back in Toronto and working to live up to it, beginning a path filled with uncertainty and requiring me to be more honest, genuine (and, frankly, brave) than I ever have been.  Every morning I wake to a call to action that is inked into a forearm of a kindred spirit somewhere on this planet.  Every other morning it alternates between sounding totally insane and intensely worthwhile.

I started this blog as a way to let those interested in my travel adventures get a sense of where I was going and what I was doing.  Each time I’ve moved overseas, I’ve renewed my commitment to it.  Looking back, it’s clear that although the scenery has changed a lot, the stories have always been about the people and thoughts evoked by the experiences I’ve had rather than about the places themselves.  Luckily, as the random conversation I describe here suggests, those stories happen everywhere, a place where I always am.

Fittingly, I think I am about to embark on my biggest adventure yet.