Why We Need To Daydream (& How To Attract More Wealth)

I’m daydreaming again, ashamed of my lack of ambition.

I’m sitting here at my desk, a monumental feat on this gorgeous spring day. I peeled myself away from the quaint, gravel paths lining my city, the brazen, neon green leaves unfurling with ferocity now, and the potent air of new possibilities, it wasn’t easy. I coaxed myself inside with a cup of turmeric and ginger tea and marshmallows of course.

Why must productivity and success equal increasing dollar signs, standing in front of captive crowds, sitting for long stretches at a time ticking away our tasks and our livelihood, or anchoring ourselves to an office or a corner with our heads down?

As a writer, I honestly don’t know how I will ever finish a book of 80,000 words. The butt-in-chair approach frightens me. I’m fidgety and foggy after 600 words. Let me outside, can’t you hear me scratching at the door?

I’m ready to catch the secret messages carried by the cool winds blowing through my backyard. I long to lay on the grass and find the faces in the clouds, while licking one of those bright yellow banana-flavored popsicles from my childhood summers.

Can’t life be a continual getaway, where loose schedules frame the day and there is ample margin for lazy barefoot walks down the beach, window shopping, or art gallery grazing?

I’m supposed to be all grown up, but I still feel twelve, the age before the pull began. The pull to make something of myself, live with a big P kind of purpose, and cultivate my passions through hard work, strategies, and spicy goals.

My youthful desires haven’t run off into the horizon though, like I thought they would at this age. They dance around me, taunting or daring me (depending on the day) to come with them into the delivery room of adventure and risk, where my over-analytical, perfectionistic, and controlling tendencies go to die.

My wild heart still thumps for the simple things like curling up with a book on a blanket, swimming and splashing in a pool or lake until pure exhaustion overtakes me, picking juicy berries off the vine, or long bike rides without any idea where I’m headed or when I’ll be back.

Who defined productivity for me? Who said six figures are sexy and fun? Who said desks and screens are the only way to a successful, delicious life?

And why can’t I fall in love with this predictable, linear life?

From what I hear, most people on their deathbeds wish they’d spent more days under a canopy of trees, diving under ocean waves, a book of poetry under their arm, tangled up with a lover under the stars, and sharing laughter with cherished ones under one roof.

So here’s what I say: Lay on the picnic blanket, lick the sticky popsicles, linger in the shimmering waters, give in to the fierce urge to immerse yourself in the good life, feel ambition in its purest form seep into your bones.

Let’s daydream our way into the wealth of whimsical, wondrous days, frivolous experiences, and fuller definitions of productivity and purpose.

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