A while back I read The Art of NonConformity by unconventional rule breaker Chris Guillebeau and it struck a chord in me. A deep chord that resonated down to the inner cave where I kept hidden, way in the back, over behind a pillar, a pile of precious dreams.A pile of dreams that I'd stashed there - inside a worn steamer trunk, covered in mirrors and starfish - back when I was 12, when I was 20, when I was 29...Each time that I gave up, each time circumstances seemed bigger than I was, each time it seemed that the world might not be able to deliver to me the life that I thought, until then, I was going to have, I stashed a little bit of my heart, my soul - my self there.I gave up. I sighed. I closed the door on myself.Chris's book arrived on a wave that was already taking me apart. My youngest child had left for college; I was sketching out a new way of living - without carpools and recitals and basketball games; without pressing back my own needs in order to meet the needs of two others. I was outlining a book of my own; planning a trip back to Paris; I'd re-enrolled in the Master's program I'd neglected.Then, my mother had open heart surgery.As she struggled to stay alive, I sat at her bedside, struggling to stay in touch with the thread of myself so recently re-discovered. As she fought to breathe, I fought, in a different way, to live, too.Somewhere in the muddle of that year, I stumbled upon Danielle LaPorte's study-yourself-program, The Firestarter Sessions (it's called The Spark Kit now) and plunged in. Stealing precious pre-dawn hours to be with myself, a white mug of tea warming my hands, I pondered her brilliant questions - my favorite, What do you obsess about?What do you obsess about?A  question that led me down rabbit warrens of truths toward the door of that inner cave where my lost selves were stashed.What did I obsess about? Such silly things...... my weight, this crooked tooth here, the way that the right side of my face seems to be shifting toward the left. And of course, money and how there seems always, just enough to maintain but never that 'little bit more' it would take to shift.I obsessed about shifting.I was already dancing.Dancing with a shift into 100% Raw with Susan Powers' Rawmazing recipes. My body telling me how much it loved this deep tissue nourishment.Dancing back out again.Shifting into %100 low-carb and out again.Dabbling in yoga, giving it up. Coming back to the mat. Quitting again.A dance of excuses and also, of real-life, can't get out of them, obligations.A dance of "will I ever choose a path and stick to it?"A dance with my shadow and my soul.Learning.Experimenting.When I started reading The Art of NonConformity a gong rang through me - a wake-up call; it's like all of Chris's work, it's a bright beacon of hope to all of us 'unconventionals' who pretend that we are just like everyone else; who pretend that we fit in, that we are, you know,normal.If there is a normal, it's this:  'everyone else' is just pretending, too.One morning at 6:15 a.m., I was bundled under my jacket in my favorite cafe corner, reading Chris's book when a verse from a Mary Oliver poem drifted toward me:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

I have had that question taped to the inside of my vision notebook for years; I want to use my one wild and precious life well. But suddenly, the confluence of all that I am - fueled by a Firestarter and a truly unconventional teacher - I woke up to who I am.

I took a stand for myself; and for my life: This moment matters; this life matters. I was through with throwing it away on obsessions that didn't mean anything. That day, I decided: It's time to obsess about the real things. Time to form the vision of a future that is worthy of me, worthy of the expense of my one wild and precious life.

Doing this pressed me up against some deep fears:1) That I am more powerful than I can possibly imagine (or keep tabs on).2) That when I manage to wrestle my wild mind into anything like focus, I will be able to create a powerful magnet that will, inevitably, draw my sailboat joy life toward me.That's what I called it: My sailboat joy life. And the thought that it might be out there, waiting for me, was the most exhilarating and terrifying thing.But it was something worth obsessing over, something worth fighting for; worth wrestling against my tendency to give up, to make excuses, to zone out, to vote for a smaller life.I thought you might like to see some of what I wrote that day (this is only a summary. The actual vision that I crafted was over two, single-spaced pages long.)After you read it, feel free to use the comments section to share some of your own wild and precious dreams with me.

My Sailboat Joy Life I rise with the sun I sit on the porch of my beautiful new home on the East End of Long Island – overlooking the water, pinching myself with joy and counting my blessings. I have just returned from Paris, where I spent a month writing in cafes and getting reacquainted with the city I fell in love with 30 years ago. My book has been published, another is with the publisher. I am offering a workshop which I am calling Sanctuary: A retreat for the soul I am fulfilling my purpose My relationships are honest, clean and fiercely loving. My children, launched into their own lives, are thriving. My body is healthy and strong. My skin is bright and clear; my eyes shine with peace and health. I am fully feeling my life I am opening and opening and opening the heart. I am teaching; I am learning. I am serving. I am opening and opening and opening the mind. to faith to the wisdom of the elders and the ancients to the mysteries God shows to me to the light/love/life energy is flowing through me and from me as I do the work of my soul, writing, teaching, loving - in partnership with the Divine.

---So that's my vision, what's yours?What life calls to you? What dream do you have hidden in the caves and closets of your heart? What do YOU obsess about? What will you make of this one, wild and precious life?