On dreaming…..2 weeks ago I sat on my couch with a friend reflecting that the BIG dream, the thing that has been in my heart for always that I want to see happen in Cape Town just doesn’t seem to be happening. It felt like I was always on the edges of people in the spaces I wanted to be in rather than in the actual spaces. It was frustrating and actually had gotten to the point where I didn’t know what to do with the dream anymore. She looked at me and then said: I don’t understand – you are a part of these circles of people. I said, yes, but the dream part just doesn’t seem to be taking shape at all.
My dream is to be a part of the circles of people who are actively, intentionally and in their day to day work spaces talking, telling stories and figuring out what justice and forgiveness looks like. My dream is to see children on the Cape Flats and in poor communities receive the same quality and standard of intervention as the children living closer to the mountain. I know that my voice is a white voice, just too young to have been in the struggle, just too old to be a part of the youth that experienced the change in a more integrated way through schooling, through sport, through life stuff. Yet, despite all of this, the seeking for healing, wholeness and reconciliation has always been a part of my story – whether spoken or not. It’s meant a different awareness of things & it’s something that has happened without feeling like I had to intentionally make it happen. It’s been always been an “is” thing.
24 hours later a child is bought into my practice: Their story is the story of a child growing up with gang violence being normal, rather than random and unexpected. During the session this dream is awakened, with a sense of anger that this child has to be bought to the suburbs rather than being able to access support within their home community. This is put aside in an effort to focus on my client until her community worker who brought the child to me gently asks, “Have you ever thought of starting a practice in the community this child comes from?”
Time felt like it stopped at this moment. This, THIS is the dream being asked about by someone who has never heard it – who I had never met, and yet who pushed straight into my deep heart’s desire. This felt like my Martin Luther King moment where I got to feel what it was like to say “I have a dream…”
I was gobsmacked – lecturing was challenging after this. It is hard to concentrate on teaching narrative theory when it feels like your own narrative is busy changing.