Your ToDo List Is Where Dreams Go To Die

Let's come clean about our ToDo lists right here, right now. If you'll show me yours, I'll show you mine.

I'm not interested in the glossy part of your ToDo list, though. It's pants down and show me the unsexy undies.

Yes, I know you got a lot of things done these past few days. The things on your "ToDo one day" list also look really conscientious: clean the fridge (what is it with me and fridges lately?!), tidy up in the attic, fix the door on the back closet.

But where there is one ToDo list, there are more. They breed like rabbits.

What about the ToDo list where all your high and mighty goals go to die? Care to show me that one? You know, the one where it says "write a book", "heal my relationship anxiety", "start a movement for more mental health awareness in schools".

That part of your ToDo list is more like a hospital wing full of comatose patients than a thriving garden of wishes and dreams. Things smell weird around there. There's no hope, no plan, no real spark, and certainly no coffee in the vending machine.

Nothing moves, neither the patients, the air, nor your not so sparkly anymore dreams that never come true.

Somehow, we have all accepted that it is normal to have a ToDo list like that. Burying our dreams or at least keeping them on a ventilator until further notice seems to be a rite of passage. You're not really a responsible adult unless you have added at least five patients to the ward. You know, giving up on enough "silly things" seems to be required to be admitted to the holy realm of picket fences and suburban gardening committees.

Fuck. That.

I am not saying that you need to make everything you dreamed of as a child come true. Some of my dreams were definitely bad ideas (hello, extreme sports), at least for me. Some of my dreams were downright impossible (I am looking at you, "fairy dust"). But some of them were really good dreams.

They don't deserve to die alone.

They might not become fully-fledged supernovas, but honestly, I can do better by them than just letting them rot. You know. I can visit them. Take them out for a walk around the yard. TRY them out again.

Perhaps I won't be a super famous singer, but I can still start a band and release my first songs at the ripe old age of 34.

What are you hiding on your ToDo list?

Maybe it's time to make the first step. Take a class. Write a poem. Catch a bird. Travel to the next village over all by yourself.