There is a song that I love about a sailer and a rolling ocean. The sailor is alone at sea amid an angry storm. He is frightened, and doesn’t know where safety lies. Part of that song says
“…give me mercy for my dreams
‘Cause every confrontation seems
To tell me what it really means
To be this lonely sailor”
I think about that song, and that part in particular, a lot. “Give me mercy for my dreams” is a powerful statement. The sailor had dreams of sailing the ocean, but the ocean turned on him, tried to kill him. He needed mercy because his dreams grew large, turned terrifying. Mercy because now the sailor now only wants to survive. Dreams had vanished to be replaced by crashing waves.
The singer of the song identifies with the sailor, identifies with overwhelming dreams, identifies with the loneliness of a vast and powerful ocean that is trying to kill the hapless sailor.
I have dreams. Dreams beautiful and vast. And most of them have turned on me, become terrible and mortally terrifying. I have struggled much, and sorrowed much, over my dreams, dreams for which I need mercy. I have been and continue most days to be that sailor, adrift and alone.
And if the song stopped there, then it would confirm my fears that there is no hope and no escape and no rescue and no safe harbor. But that isn’t the end. The song continues to say
“I should have realized
I had no reasons to be frightened”
and
“And when the sky begins to clear
And the sun it melts away my fear
I’ll cry a silent weary tear…”
Storms don’t last. Skies clear. The sun shines above black clouds and through lightning strikes and thunder blasts. Eventually the sun breaks through that darkness and seas calm. Then the speaker realizes that they’ve endured, they’ve survived. Message? Dreams can survive.
Storms can last a long time, and I feel as if my boat is still rocking and roiling. But all storms must end. I am holding on to the sides of my boat, pulling my slicker closer, and wiping rain from my brow. After all, the refrain of the song has become my anthem:
“But I am ready for the storm, yes sir, ready
I am ready for the storm, yes sir, ready”
You see, storms can kill. The idea isn’t that the sailor is foolish to be frightened, but that once the storm ends and he is alive, then he can rejoice in life renewed. The idea is to be ready for the storms, because they will arise. Every time, waves will surge and hurricanes will rage. But if I am ready, then maybe I can weather the storm.
How?
“It’s an angry sea but there is no doubt
That the lighthouse will keep shining out”
What is the lighthouse?
“And when you take me by your side
You love me warm, you love me…”
“And you will find that in the end
It brings you me, the lonely sailor…”
Love. Love can calm oceans of doubt, despair, and overwhelming depression. Lonely sailors simply need a steady, surmounting lighthouse that will shine out despite all and through all, guiding the sailors back to safe harbor.
I was thinking of this song and dreams, because I had a brief encounter over social media today. I responded to a celebrity post asking “Have you committed to following your dreams?” and I said “yes” not really thinking about it. Then the celebrity contacted me, and I am sure many others who answered, asking “How do you manifest your dreams?” and I really had to ponder that. I don’t have a solid reply. I said “I go after what I want and don’t look back” but the truth is that while I often launch my boat and head certainly out to sea, when the seas grow large I often flounder. I want to look back; I want to head back.
But I have love. And love keeps me sailing, love keeps shining out, guiding me in the right direction. When I need safety, I can find it, because I have love. Love doesn’t always look the way I want it to, doesn’t always feel like I want it to feel, but it is there, often right in the boat with me, a steady hand on the tiller and a strong arm on the ropes, tacking the sails.
In the end, I am ready for the storm. So give me mercy for my dreams, because once again I am headed out to sea.
a simple man 