The 3 symptoms of the death of our dreams. Paulo Coelho.
"The first symptom that we are killing our dreams is lack of time. The busiest people I have met in life always have time for everything. Those who did nothing were always tired, could not do the little work that had and constantly complained that the day was too short. In fact, they were afraid of facing the good fight.
The second symptom of the death of our dreams are our certainties. We do not want to see life as a great adventure for living. We began to think we are wise, fair and correct in how little we ask of life. Looking beyond the walls of our daily lives and hear the sound of broken spears, the smell of sweat and gunpowder, the big drops and looks thirsty for victory of the warriors. But we never feel the joy, the immense joy present in the hearts of those who are struggling, because they do not matter neither victory nor defeat, imports only part of the Good Fight.
Finally, the third symptom of the death of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday afternoon and did not ask us for great things, not demand more of what we give. So we think we are mature, we stop aside the fantasies of childhood and reach our personal and professional fulfillment. We are surprised when someone our age says he still wants this or that life. But in reality, in the depths of our hearts, we know that what happens is we gave up fighting for our dreams, to fight the good fight.
When we renounce our dreams and find peace, we have a little period of calm. But the dead dreams begin to rot inside us and infect the whole environment in which we live.
began to be cruel to those around us and eventually headed the cruelty against us. Emerging diseases and psychosis. What we wanted evitar en el combate y la derrota Decepción-la-se convierte en el único Legado de nuestra Cobarde. Y a lovely día, y los sueños muertos vuelven podridos el aire y comenzamos dificult to breathe de desear la muerte, la muerte que nos de nuestras certezas free, ocupaciones de nuestras y de paz de las Aquella terrible tardes de domingo. "
(sorry for the translation is not quite perfect ...)
"The first sign that we are killing our dreams is lack of time. The busiest people I have encountered in life had always time for everything. Those who did nothing were always tired, could not realize the little work they had and complained always the fact that the day was too short. In reality they were afraid to confront the "buen combate".
The second symptom of the death of our dreams are our certainties. Why do not we want to see life as a great adventure to be lived. We begin to believe it wise, just and correct in what little we ask for life. We look beyond the walls of our everyday life and feel the noise of the boats that jingle, the smell of sweat and dust, the great falls and looks hungry for conquest of the warriors. But we never hear the joy, the immense joy in the hearts of those who are struggling because they do not care for either victory nor defeat, they only care to participate in the "buen combate".
Finally, the third symptom of the death of our dreams is peace. Life becomes a Sunday night and do not ask us for great things, nor does it require more than what we give. So we believe we are mature, we abandon the fantasies of childhood and reach our personal and professional fulfillment. Surprising when we hear someone our age says he wants out of life yet this or that. But in reality, in the depths of our hearts, we know that what happens is that we give up fighting for our dreams, to defend the "buen combate".
When we renounce our dreams we find peace, we have a small period of calm. But the dead dreams begin to rot inside us and infect the whole environment in which we live.
begin to be cruel to those around us and, finally, direct this cruelty against us. Emerging diseases and psychosis. What we wanted to avoid in fighting - disappointment and defeat - is converted in the only legacy of our cowardice. And one day, dreams are dead and rotten into the air difficult to breathe and we begin to wish for death, death that frees us from our certainties, from our occupations and from that terrible peace Sunday evenings. "
