Daily Step – How big are you allowed to dream?

Do you allow yourself to dream big?

What about big…er?

I had a wonderful conversation with a friend this weekend who said something that stuck with me long after we had parted. She said: “Gretchen we just don’t dream big enough.”

Why not?

St. Ignatius was, for me, a great mentor in the art of dreaming big. He let his imagination run to the ends of the earth as he contemplated what was his to do. While he dreamed these big, audacious dreams, he paid close attention to his feelings. He noted which dreams filled him with hope, excitement, and joy. He noted which dreams made him feel listless, dull, and apathetic. 

He used his dreams to guide his direction.

And he never failed to dream big…er.

Neither should we.

After our conversation which included a cool analogy using a chicken and an eagle that I can’t do justice recalling, I jotted down this poem to help me (and maybe you?) to never forget to dream as big as possible.

Dreaming Big…er

In the corner
of a backyard
stood a coop
where six hens
lived and played
and laid
their multicolored eggs.

Six content hens just
living their best life.

Then one day,
the coop was opened
to let the chickens
roam the yard.

It took a minute
before they waddled
suspiciously
toward the door,
anxiously wondering 
what lay beyond
and how far 
they were 
permitted to go.

Eventually,
one ventured out.

She placed one foot
and then another
out into the yard,
pecked the ground,
and swung her head
back and forth,
surveying it all,
until she felt 
comfortable enough
to run.

Around and around
the yard she ran
finally free to roam,
free to explore,
free to nibble 
on the fresh grass.

One after another
the other five 
left the pen 
and found 
freedom
in the yard.

It was 
bigger than 
they ever dreamed,
this large, rectangular 
piece of earth.

They could imagine
nothing more…
glorious.

That is until
they heard
the softest whoosh 
above their heads.

They looked up
and their breath
caught
as they watched
an eagle
spread her wings
and soar.

(© 2022, Gretchen Crowder)