Yesterday our backyard was filled with a herd of cattle, and perched on our roof was a mighty dragon. My daughter has got to be the first three-year-old cowgirl to run a cattle drive, and simultaneously slay a dragon. Don’t get me started on having a two-year-old son that herds his cattle via pirate ship. We are a family of many talents. 

In all seriousness, it got me thinking—a dangerous thing, I know. It got me thinking about how simple life can be, how it was meant to be. The world tells us that we are free to do as we please, and in the same breath say there is only one way. It is full of contradictions and facts that are actually subjective truths. We fill our minds with surface knowledge and call ourselves scholars. If it cannot be done quickly it should not be done at all. It is no wonder we’ve grown so impatient and quick to tell each other lies. 

We scour the internet for self-improvement, for enlightenment—something to tell us how to be better at being us. Our personas change with the trends as easily as if it were an act of changing hats; whichever will attract the most eyes. Then we wonder why we cannot think for ourselves, why our minds grow forgetful and weak. We wonder what happened to our inquisitiveness, our excitement for life. 

In a fatigued mind, overwhelmed by the noise of the world, it is easy to become blinded of the life laid before you. So easy to allow strangers tell you who you are— to base your success on some tangible trophy. Sometimes the dreams we have spent years searching for, arrive wrapped up in unrecognizable packages. If they are never fully opened, they may even be over looked completely. 

We are fed lies that simplicity is complacency, laziness. We are told that if it is not done now, it will be forgotten. Our chance will come and go. But, there is a difference between procrastination and stepping aside to enjoy the journey. 

As times change, the definition of success will change with it. It is possible that, by not jumping in the hamster wheel of media tactics, good work will go unnoticed. Playing dragons and cowboys in the backyard all afternoon did not get me any closer to a publishing deal. It did not gain me followers, it didn’t benefit anyone other than myself and my children. And yet, it was when I felt the most fulfilled. 

This is not a written letter giving you permission to give up. It’s not an excuse to not try your best. It is a reminder to slow down. Enjoy the simple things. Don’t fill your every waking moment. It is in the times of boredom that the greatest ideas begin to bloom. Good work takes time. Learn to love your craft again. It is not the followers you gained or the money you made that you will look back and remember, it is the days slaying dragons in your backyard—the days spent truly living.