sincerely swaim

There’s this “white dress feeling.” Not a bridal one. But one that evokes an image of an enchanted forest. Walking barefoot through a bubbling brook. White dress flowing around my ankles. Wind creating curly wisps around my braided hair. Sun shining on my skin and illuminating my spirit.

This white dress feeling sparks creativity. It feels inspiring. It’s brimming with opportunity.

And yet it can also feel far away. Like a distant world that’s hard to access. Like a part of my childhood that’s tricky to find again.

Often, when I’m in the midst of this white dress feeling, I’m forced to balance the dreams of a young girl with the baggage of a young woman. Baggage that eeks with an eagerness to remind me of my life’s losses. The loss of taking risks, the loss of believing in my abilities, the loss of my vulnerability.

Suddenly, it’s as if I’m wearing a costume to a party that is full of business and no whimsy.

I look up and see my setting. I notice the barriers I’ve built over time. I remember the hurdles I’ve fallen over in the past. I recreate the times my dreaminess wasn’t an asset, but a liability.

I know my spirit wants the whimsy. It wants to wear the dress. To take the chance. To believe I can do and be anything.

And as it goes, this white dress feeling winds up leaving me with more questions than answers.

Is there a mindset in which this feeling can coexist in both my spirit and my setting?

Can I have conversations to make change?

Will I reembark on old adventures?

Do I have what it takes to believe in myself again?