Jamie Ridler Studios

Here we are a star, a star.
First we glimpsed afar, afar.

Mapping, tapping, slogging, gook.
Paving, craving, and it took.

Wish upon a long ago
and in seeing made it so.

A star, our star, and we shine.
We are here, your hand and mine.

Wish and work and it does too.
Dreams come true, they do, they do.

David Cohen has lots of magic markers.  When he’s not drawing his joyful doodles he’s busy helping business owners to build a deeper, personal, more meaningful connection with their businesses. He calls this work Brand Therapy because in his words, “you have to go through the head and the heart if you want to tell the story that turns your business into your legacy.”

Find out more about David by visiting http://www.EquationArts.com

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photo credit Tibchris

I was vacationing on the island of St. Maarten and decided to go horseback riding one day. The path we were taking stretched down a mountainside onto a private beach.

I’ve always loved horses and have ridden casually since I was young. I believe that I was a cowpoke during one lifetime, riding the range on my paint. I feel such a kinship with this lifestyle, even though I was raised in average suburbia.

I mounted up on this sunny, humid afternoon and ambled along behind the lead horse. There was a slight breeze but nothing else to distinguish this day from any other; no hint that something amazing was about to happen.

Do you know what a peak experience is? We all have them – it’s the moment when you realize, “Wow, life just doesn’t get any better than this!” Your peak experience may be unexpected or part of a larger plan. You may encounter one alone or in partnership with someone else.

For some reason, my peak experiences most often involve either music or nature. I had one when I first heard Paul McCartney in concert. After decades of listening to his records, tapes and CDs, I finally had the opportunity to hear him live. He took the audience on a 40 year journey through our shared past and it was a celebration of love and hope and perseverance over tragedy and loss. And that’s what our most outstanding personal experiences do for us. They bring us to a moment of intense appreciation that can be remembered and relived for as long as we’re able.

My nature “fix” is the ocean. There’s just something about the combination of surf, sun, sky and sand that takes me to a place of deep introspection, powerful insights and an almost transcendent way of being.

And now here I was in St. Maartin, on the back of a horse overlooking a pristine beach. It was perfection. We began to descend. I brought my attention back to my horse as he carefully picked his way down the rocky path, shifting my balance as he did. I was totally focused on the descent.
As we reached the bottom, there was a sudden explosion of movement. My horse took off across the sand so abruptly that I only had time to grab hold of his mane.

Oh. My. Lord. I could hear the pounding of his hooves as we galloped in seemingly slow motion across that stretch of beach. The wind was blowing tears from my eyes as I both laughed and cried. Always, always it had been a dream of mine to gallop a horse across a beach but this moment was totally unanticipated and completely magical.

I’ve since done it again, in Costa Rica. The ride was equally wonderful, but not as magical as the first event. Time didn’t disappear and there wasn’t that out-of-body sensation of a dream made real but yes, there was the conscious thought of wow, it still doesn’t get any better than this.
May you have a lifetime of peak experiences and be aware of every precious moment!

Sunny Schlenger is an author, professional organizer, and life coach. She has written two popular books: Organizing for the Spirit (Jossey-Bass/J.Wiley & Sons/2004) and How to be Organized in Spite of Yourself (Penguin/1999). For over 30 years, Sunny has worked with large and small corporations, non-profit agencies, and individuals to creatively and effectively teach the art of managing both time and space. Her program has been licensed by Harvard University’s Center for Training and Development. By combining specific how-to advice with dynamic philosophy, Sunny offers a unique and successful approach to mastering the dual challenges of staying productive and feeling good.

Enjoying these Dream Really Do Come True guest posts? We’ll be compiling them into a free inspirational e-book for you! Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to find out when it’s available.

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The dream would sweep through me -
a tsunami of calm,
a flood of peace that
soothed synapses, numbed neurones.

But I would always awake to the feverish realm
of reality. Landlocked in suburbia.
Trapped, boxed in;
no room to breathe
no room to be.

“There’s no air in here,”
I would scream.
“I’m drowning.”

Intense pressure bearing down on all sides,
and every day,
my purpose diamond clear:
Get through the next 24 hrs
in whichever way you can.

Months passed with respite only found
night after night, in dreams
of waves and water.
Precious hours adrift on the tide.
My sanity for a breath of sea air.

And then a shift in the currents.
My spirit set free -
a seed finally released
from the confines of desiccated husk.

When I found myself staring out
at my new sea view
an ocean of serenity swept
right through my whole being.

Here I am.
I’ve found my place at the edge
of things, where land lays down
with the waves
and both sigh in remembered rapture.

Here I am.
I have made it through.
I’ve found the harbour of my dreams,
my haven.
And here, I rest.

A true lover of stories, Amy Palko spends her days reading, writing, knitting and dreaming… well, that is when she’s not being kept busy home-educating her three kids! She is the creatrix of the series Ancient Wisdom for the Modern Goddess, exploring goddess myths and moon cycles through story, journalling, visualisation and creative exercise.

Enjoying these Dream Really Do Come True guest posts? We’ll be compiling them into a free inspirational e-book for you! Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to find out when it’s available.

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Wow, I have so many to choose from.

That was my first thought when invited to write on the topic of dreams coming true. I tried to let it sink in. I explored my memory for a real “story worthy” dream, a big awesome dream…but I just couldn’t get past the awe. There are so many dreams that have come true. So many dreams that rocked my world in big blooming booms and sweet tiny quivers. I don’t know who I would be without these dreams. These dreams have anchored me home, to the truth of my own heart, time and again.

After the awe came the tenderness. It slipped through my lips like a breath and curled into a ball on the floor. Believing in dreams isn’t always easy for me. I can see tenderness show up as I write this, a tenderness that still wants to be reassured that it’s possible. Even though my life has proved over and over again that dreams do come true, the tenderness stays. Isn’t that amazing? Here I want to tell stories about how dreams can come true, and my own heart races in to sit in the front row with a pen, ready to take copious notes.

Well, take notes, heart of mine.

A dream come true is a feeling.

The feeling of recognizing a dream come true is a lot like love, you just know it when it happens. It was a Saturday morning in the summer of 1981 and I was laying on the floor in the basement with a bowl of Cheerios, watching an episode of The Brady Bunch. In that episode the Brady family went to an amusement park. For a half hour I was lost in dreams of being at a fun park, going on rides and eating cotton candy. It felt like such a delicious fantasy. I marched up the stairs in my nightgown to the living room where my parents were enjoying their coffee and reading the newspaper. I knew this was a long shot, in fact, you might say I had thought this would be impossible. But I declared that I would like to go to a fun park and asked if my parents could take me.

I remember the startled way they looked at one another, and the almost suspicious way they looked at me. It turned out that in fact, thatwas the plan for the day. My little 6 year old mind was officially blown. This was magic! And more importantly, magic can happen to me.

There is something about that word, magic. It’s a word that wraps mystery with delight. When I think of dreams coming true, I also think of how I’ve been surprised by them.

One of the delightful things I’ve noticed about dreams coming true, is that often what ends up coming true is even better than what I’d dared to dream in the first place. For example, my 6 year old self was secretly hoping that maybe we could plan a trip to a fun park. I didn’t even consider that it would be an option to go right after breakfast. When I was at a soul sucking job listening to a program on CBC radio about this new thing called life coaching, I began dreaming that I could one day hire one. I didn’t even think to dream that I might become one.

When I dreamed of one day seeing Prince in concert, I didn’t dream he would play Massey Hall, my favourite venue in Toronto (not a big stadium, but an intimate theatre). I surprised myself at that concert by screaming like a slasher film starlet when I saw his silhouette emerge from the black ice. I didn’t think I would ever react that way to the presence of another human being, but there you go. Dreams coming true can have that effect on a gal.

There were dreams I’d carried with me for years and dreams I’d given up on.

I dreamed of making a pilgrimage to Mexico to see Frida Kahlo’s house when I first fell in love with her. I even saved my money three different times to go, but something always came up and the money was needed to pay rent. Eventually, I shelved that dream and life moved into different directions. I found a partner, bought a house, and many dreams of my 20′s started gathering dust in the attic while new dreams were being created. I settled for books about Frida, and the little framed black and white photo I keep of her in my studio. One day, my partner sends me an email with a link to an article about how there will be a special exhibit in Mexico City to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Frida Kahlo’s birth. He suggested we go. I had shelved that dream for so long, it didn’t even occur to me that we could go.

Twelve years after I first dreamed it and there I was, standing in Frida’s kitchen. There I was, walking through my dreams and her garden at the same time. There I was, wishing I could camp out in the gift shop. There was her bed, her studio, her handwriting. Being in Frida’s blue house was a sacred experience for me. Discovering her story in my early 20′s changed me. Her story birthed a new story in me, and never before had I been so drawn to journey the way I was drawn to visit her home. This is the woman who became my unofficial patron saint in 1996. Frida is my Mary. This was, without question, a dream come true.

As amazing as the Frida dream is for me, the dreams that interest me the most are the dreams come true in strange ways, ways that don’t look anything like what I might have expected.

If you know me, it should come as no surprise that I’ve done my share of journaling and exploration around dreams. Many years ago, I made a list of 100 dreams, making sure I listed dreams that seemed attainable along with dreams that seemed impossible (this is a great exercise to do, because it can make you feel like dreams are within your reach while also stretching your reach to places that test your trust in dreams). So on this list, I wrote show my art in Japan.

To be honest, I probably threw that one in there just to say to the universe, see? I’m playing fair, there’s one of those silly big dreams that doesn’t make sense. Clearly, I had some smarty-pants doubt about this whole ‘dreaming big’ thing.

Years later, with no effort at all on my part, my art was shown in Japan — though not in the way I might have imagined. In fact, I wouldn’t have ever found out, had it not been for my cousin Jacqueline who was living in Japan teaching english. She came across a travel publication in Japanese, which she didn’t understand. There was a lot of text and a bunch of small stamp sized images of different restaurants and attractions. She noticed one and thought, Oh look! That’s Toronto. Oh look! That’s the Rivoli on Queen Street. Wait, is that Danette’s artwork?!

The photo used in this publication was taken while I had a solo show hanging on the walls of this popular spot in downtown Toronto. The photo was taken around the same time I wrote show my art in Japan on my list of dreams, but showed up in print years later, in Japan. Somehow, through all of that, it landed in my cousin’s hands and made it back home to me. I felt so fortunate that she found it, and it made me think of how close I had come to never knowing this had happened. That makes me wonder how many other wonderful things like this are happening right now, that we can’t see?

Magic. That’s the feeling it gives me. Especially when it shows up in these peculiar, playful ways.

This dream of having my art shown in Japan felt like a wink, inviting me to dream a little bigger. If the universe was being played by Sofia Vergara, she just gave me a nod and showed me a little leg. When the universe winks at me like this, I listen.

I believe in dreams. I see them unfolding and bursting in my life, like enchanted flowers. Though even with encouragement, dreams can be tender. They challenge us to also believe in ourselves, specifically, how worthy we are of our dreams.

Only when I see my own forgotten dreams coming true for others do I realize how painful it is to believe that for some reason, I am undeserving of such magic. It is often easier for me to reassure others that of course, dreams are possible…for them. I say this to let you know that if you tenderly question whether it’s possible for your own dreams to come true, that tenderness is shared by me. I think that tenderness is just a way for us to understand how much our dreams mean to us. It tastes a lot like the fear that arrives when you open yourself to love; when you have everything, you also have everything to lose. This feeling of tenderness is actually the whisper of how precious your hearts desire is.

It takes courage to believe in dreams.

Dreams are gorgeous, magical compasses that bring us home to our hearts. And the best part is, they can still come true — even when you give up on them. Dreams don’t give up on you. You are all they’ve got.

So give your own dreams a little wink. Let them know you’re interested. Invite them to blow your mind.

What’s the best thing that could happen?

Danette Relic is a life coach, writer and creative lover of life.  She lives in Toronto and works in the metaphorical space she calls Radical Creative Sanctuary.  Spaces delight Danette, especially safe spaces that encourage others to be themselves, ask breathtaking questions, share stories and open hearts.  She believes that self love and enlightened selfishness is the doorway to all love and connection.  She admits that her own work is a selfish act, because she simply wants to see more beauty in the world — and that includes all the colours in each beautiful, personal life.  Danette does her best writing in cafés that play great music.

Enjoying these Dream Really Do Come True guest posts? We’ll be compiling them into a free inspirational e-book for you! Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to find out when it’s available.

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A summer in Italy–it sounds like some kind of romantic, dream come true scenario, doesn’t it? Perhaps you’ve turned the idea over in your mind, but quickly dismissed it. How could you take the time off of work? Where would you get the money? Who would watch the children?

On three separate occasions, I either traveled throughout Europe or stayed in Italy for at least 3 weeks, or more. In the particularly glorious year of 2009, I spent most of the summer in Italy, stationed just outside of Florence.

That summer, my days knitted themselves together something like this: Waking early in the morning in a little villa just outside Florence, opening the windows to let the light in. My feet were bare over a cool cobblestone floor. I’d shower and get dressed and make the ten minute walk to Pasticcheria Buschioni (do a search for it on Google Maps–the cappuccino and coronetti there are amazing!). They were friendly, never treating me like a stupid tourist, and they complimented me on my Italian, even as I knew that it was grammatically incorrect and they were just being polite–but like gentleman, Piero would insist that my Italian was “molto buono.” I’d order another caffe latte.

After breakfast, I’d hop a bus into Florence. I’m a “no agenda” kind of traveler; I like to walk and observe, stop and write when I’m tired, take naps in the sun, and I take pictures when it suits me. I made it my mission to figure out the best gelato places in all of Florence (my vote goes to Grom, which is hidden off to a side street near the Duomo–and apparently, which has made a recent US debut! ( http://www.yelp.com/biz/grom-gelato-new-york )

But how–how did I do this?

First, the work question. Two of my sojourns were scheduled during the summer months, and I was primarily getting my income from being an English professor, at the time. Simple enough: I gave my coaching clients lots of notice, and I wasn’t scheduled to teach.

But what about people who work a 9-5? I ran into a lot of those travelers–other Americans who didn’t have the luck of a “free” summer. Some had simply saved up every single vacation day to make the dream happen. Some had decided to take a loss on income while away, and had saved money throughout the year to not feel the financial pinch. Some had made work arrangements that involved tele-commuting, and they were spending the hot, humid siesta hours inside a cool hotel or apartment, getting a little work done before venturing out again for gelato when dusk fell. (And it’s worth noting: In October 2010, I spent 3 weeks in Italy during a teaching semester–I got permission from work, and arranged for a substitute).

What about kids? I met a few women who had left the kids with dad. Whenever I heard this, some part of me went: hurrah! There are so many moms out there who spend all their time sacrificing for their children, and no time filling their own well. I loved these courageous women who dared to take a week or two for themselves. Other people? They brought the kids along.

Friends of mine rented a villa and brought their young son with them. Our trips overlapped and I visited them in nearby Arezzo, smiling with delight as Elias rolled Italian words around like marbles in his mouth. “Ho cavuto!” he yelled after he had fallen down and decided, tears dry, to get back to the business of running around the playground.

What about money? “Rented a villa, Kate? Maybe you have a trust fund, but I don’t!” –perhaps this is what you’re thinking. Now here’s some shocking news:

Renting a room in a villa in Italy is often cheaper than staying at a hotel.

Let me reiterate that: renting a villa (or an apartment) is often cheaper than staying in a hotel. This is especially true if you come during the off-season.

The summer of 2009, I paid about 700 EU for a six-week stay at a villa, which at the time translated to a bit less than $1,000 USD, and that was even less than I paid for my plane ticket. It’s also worth noting that in 2009, my income came to something like $35,000 a year, and I live in the San Francisco Bay Area, where rent runs about $1,000 a month–so of course, many choices to save and sacrifice were made along the way.

How did I find a villa? I put an ad on–of all places!–CRAIGSLIST Florence. I was promptly flooded with emails offering *me* prices and dates and details on the accommodations.

The room I rented had a kitchenette, which saved money on eating out, some nights (the gelato budget, of course, could not be sacrificed in the name of savings).

All told, it cost me approximately $3,000 for a summer in Italy, between airfare, accommodations, and food–and certainly, there were any number of places where I could have shaved euros off of that price (eating out less, the cheapest possible plane ticket, using couchsurfing.com, etc.)

And what did I gain?

Everything. That summer in Italy was the most transformative of my life. It was during that summer of pleasure, of rejuvenation, of sleep, or play, that I articulated what exactly I wanted to do with my coaching practice, which was then only part-time. It was there that I talked to the owners of the villa and negotiated prices for bringing a retreat there, a dream that I made happen the following year, in 2010. It was there that I wrote what would later become the introductory chapters and concepts of The Courageous Living Guide.

Here’s what I know about making dreams come true: Everyone (!) has the same initial objections. Time, money, what people will think, what if I fail…the list goes on, and they are monotonous in their ubiquity.

The choice to make your dreams happen is one that will bring up challenges and obstacles, but I also know from personal experience that it is one that reaps rewards.

You really don’t have anything to lose if you take a chance like this–if things don’t go well, somehow, you’ll earn the money back. You won’t get back the time, but you will get the benefit of some kind of lesson, or of knowing that you met a personal challenge.

So–let me ask you a delicious question–if you were planning a summer in Italy, what would you do? What would it look like? How would you afford it?

Start asking these delicious questions–and see what dreams blossom.

Kate Swoboda is a life coach, speaker and writer. She’s the creator of The Coaching Blueprint and Courageous Living Guide, the Courageous Play and Create Stillness retreats, and the upcoming Blueprint Circles and Breathing Space tele-circles. Learn more at YourCourageousLife.com.

Enjoying these Dream Really Do Come True guest posts? We’ll be compiling them into a free inspirational e-book for you! Be sure to sign up for my newsletter to find out when it’s available.

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