If You Wish, It Is Not a Fairytale

In Germany, 1902, Theodor Herzl published his novel Altneuland, the Old New Land. On the front cover was inscribed the phrase: “Wenn ihr wollt, ist es kein Märchen” -- unprofessionaly translated as: “If you wish it, it is not a fairy tale.” I grew up with this saying and have always believed it, just as I have always loved and trusted Walt Disney’s version: “If you can dream it, you can do it.” And yet I am eternally amazed whenever I finish a project or succeed in an enterprise that I set out to do. How’s that for self belief?

Me, crying on Mt. Rainier

Four years ago, the sun rose as I marched up the last stretch of steep terrain to the crater on Mount Rainier. I plodded along, like a sheep following her herd on the narrow path, with one thought careening in my head: “I finally have an achievement in life.” At 14,220 or so feet, the tears choking my throat did not help my lungs’ desperate attempts to get enough oxygen into my blood. I stumbled. I wanted to sit down. Instead, I followed everyone else around the crater and up the little summit rocks where I stood, tears running down my red nose, as the guide took my picture holding up my ice ax (yes, my own ice ax!) up to the sky in a weak gesture of “I’m finally here!”

Four years later my list of successes has grown in reverse proportion to my list of failures and unfinished projects. My belief in “If you can dream it you can do it” has remained the same: a slightly hypocritical piece of advice that I can give to others in a display of “Do as I say and not as I do.” I believe it, but I won’t try to check if it can come true.

But hey, this is a little corner of joy, not a little puddle of pity wallowing. And I do, in fact, have a point with my sad sob story. And it is not going to be a moralistic point, but very very wise. Here goes:

I enjoy the little things in life much more than my big, life-shaking achievements. Making the memory books in kindergarten. I loved that. A short, half mile hike at Coe with the children, the ranger’s wife, and my mother and father in which we saw hundreds of wildflowers. I loved that. My son standing straight with the violin under one arm, listening to the teacher. My daughter’s sweet-smelling breath on my cheek as she hugs me. The smell of morning outside when I wake up. The spaghetti and mushroom sauce Dar made for us on our last camping trip. Hearing my friend Ronit’s melodious voice on the phone this morning. Illustrating the Siddur Program for the school. A hug. A kiss.

Little moments of life, seemingly fleeting, giving everlasting joy.

What about you? What moments of joy do you remember?

Dreaming, Doing, Flying!

I love Walt Disney’s saying, “If you can dream it, you can do it.” Many years ago, at a pivotal moment in my life, I caught a glimpse of boundless skies, of the infinite opportunities the world has to offer. In my heart I knew the opening of the world before me stood independent of circumstances or locations, an invitation to release limitations and rules and let my wings spread and fly.

Yesterday I listened as the kids watched the end of the The Tooth Fairy. The movie’s main character, Derek Thompson, is a hockey player who believes dreams are the reason people end up disappointed. When a young fan tells him he wants to play in the NHL when he grows up, Derek tells him to face the truth. There will always be better, faster, younger players than him. Better give up now than be disappointed later.

But is the fact that there will always be someone better, younger and faster a reason to give up? Take me as an example. Next month I will be 40, and I have not yet published a book. Now take Christopher Paolini who published his first novel at nineteen and quickly became a NYTimes best-selling author. Does comparing me to Paolini say anything at all? I hope not!

Comparison seems an ineffectual way to live, whether I’m comparing my performance to others or to my own expectation of me. And I wonder, why the need to compare? Is there no other way to reach my goals? “If you can dream it, you can do it,” Walt Disney said. Perhaps instead of measuring, comparing, judging and criticizing, a better way to accomplish the same goals is by dreaming, doing and believing.

The Tooth Fairy ends with Derek realizing, “You want to fly? You have to believe!” I believe that if I believed I could fly, then I could fly. Every once in a while (and I don’t mean this is in a “we have to put her away in a mental institution before she tries it” kind of way) I feel very close to flying. The air begins to give me that lift, that tilt to the wings, which I just know can release the hold of gravity. And after all, what is gravity but a figment of our scientific imagination?

With my novel, with all my dreams, I know this is true. There is a fine balance, a moment when the dreaming, doing, and believing come together and magic happens. Words fall into place on the page. The man of my dreams comes into my life. I get to send my novel to an agent. And someday one of my novels will be on the shelf of your local bookstore or on your virtual kindle shelf. I plan on continuing to dream better, faster and younger dreams. And with a dash of believing and doing, next time I feel that tilt, that lift to my wings, I hope to let go of gravity, and....

FLY!