pulses

'Those people are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do' – Steve Jobs.  I suppose you could call me a dreamer at heart.  My hopes and dreams often aren’t visible; but while you’re sipping hot chocolate in front of the fireplace, (attempting) to talk to me, I'm dreaming; like this:

I hope to wake up each morning at 5:00 a.m. in my cozy, colourful apartment and spend time with God, praying, reading His word, studying the Bible.  I'll scamper downstairs after a refreshing shower (or bath if I have time) and make myself muesli and have yoghurt, fruit and orange juice. After that I head to Starbucks and get a steaming cup of tea and read a good book.  It's 9:00 now.  I whip back home and pick up a few extra books, my camera and music sheets.  Then it's off – riding my bike, of course -- to the Royal College of Music.  It's about a 35 minute bike, but that's okay because I'm wrapped up warm; a scarf is wrapped around my neck, a snug hat rests on my head, a wooly sweater tightly clasps me and boots are on my feet.  A basket on the back of my bike carries my books and camera safely and snug.  

I arrive at RCM.  I clutch my books and camera tightly in my hands and swing open an old wooden door, which creaks at every jolt and smells musty - it's an old, familiar smell that makes me nostalgic. I head to class (it starts at 10:30 a.m.)  But before class starts, I head over to the nearest Steinway grand piano that sits in the left hand corner of the classroom.  Slowly, then all at once, a rhythm finds its way into my heartbeat and pulse while I play Chopin's Nocturne in Nocturne op. 9 no. 1 in B flat minor -- it's whimsical and fresh and light and airy and it speaks to my soul; I am encapsulated in a world of majestic sound.  Classes go by and I receive instructions and training from my tutors.  It’s really all very wonderful. 

Hours pass by.  

Lights twinkle and adorn the dusky streets of London as I whirr down the cobbled road on my bike.  Upon my arrival home, I put the French Artisan bread that I had prepared earlier in the oven bread and make some spaghetti and toss up a salad. Carefully, I slice steaming fresh bread into pieces and dish out spaghetti (of course, I top the plate with a basil leaf). I invite a friend or two over for the meal and we talk about life and books and aspirations.  After that I slip on my favourite CD and we just close our eyes and pray and think together.  

Life is beautiful when we hope and dream; it really, really is. 

What are your dreams and aspirations?