I’ve lived my life on a very short leash. What was acceptable and not acceptable was all well defined—at least in my mind. I liken it to the plight of circus elephants that are tethered to a post at a very young age. They might struggle to get free but they are too little and the tether is too strong. As they grow to adolescence they might keep trying, but eventually they give up. By the time they are adults they are so used to the constraint that they don’t realize they could easily break free.

I’m the youngest in a family of four. I arrived, like all of us do, into power dynamics that existed long before I was born. Birth order plays a role in all families, as this fascinating article describes. Although tangible memories from my childhood remain sketchy, body memories inform me of some of the emotional challenges I must have experienced as a child. Acute anxiety permeates my body when I feel the need to approach sensitive topics with my loved ones, and I sometimes find myself reactive rather than responsive, which is what I’m aiming for.

Much of this has been the focus of my therapeutic work over the years. At one point, when I was casting about for ways to expand my thinking about what might be possible, I considered going back to school. My therapist replied: “It’s not more education you need, Amy, it’s more courage.”

David Whyte describes courage as “the measure of our heartfelt participation with life, with another, with a community, a work; a future.” Heartfelt participation with a future actually requires us to dream. Like the elephant that learned early that fighting for freedom was futile, so I learned also that keeping expectations low and my feelings to myself meant less risk and fewer disappointments. Dreaming was out of the question.

David goes onto say “To be courageous is not necessarily to go anywhere or do anything except to make conscious those things we already feel deeply and then to live through the unending vulnerabilities of those consequences.”

Thirteen years ago I strayed beyond the acceptable boundaries  with my brother, Marc. He severed our relationship and has rejected all my overtures of reconciliation since then. My biggest sorrow about this disruption is for our family as a whole. My mother’s (clearly unrealistic) wish was for a “family that loves one another.” Perhaps I am still carrying the torch for her, even though she’s been gone now for almost 34 years.

I am, however, slowly learning how to dream. Walt Disney said “All our dreams can come true; if we have the courage to pursue them.”

One of my dreams is that our entire family gathers to celebrate my sister Abby’s 80th birthday next year. It is a dream, not a requirement. I will be there for sure, and it would be wonderful if my brother were also. These lines from a poem of Rumi’s express what I would say to Marc if I could.

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

Is there something you would like in your life that might take some courage to dream into existence? Let me know, I’d love to hear!