When Dreams Take Flight
Lessons Learned from Irish Skies
Two weeks ago, I boarded a plane to Ireland. Not for business. Not for a vacation. This was different. This was about chasing down some long-postponed dreams of songwriting and music that had been patiently waiting their turn.
You see, sometimes life requires a bold step. A departure from the familiar. For me, that meant trading my regular routines for the wild beauty of Irish landscapes and the rich musical heritage that seems to pulse through every pub and street corner in this ancient land.
The decision to go wasn't easy. There were plenty of practical reasons to stay home. Work responsibilities. Family obligations. The comfortable rhythm of daily life. But there were stronger reasons to go—those persistent whispers of "what if" that grow louder with each passing year.
In 10 days, Ireland taught me to breathe again. Not just the quick, shallow kind that keeps us alive. Real breathing. The kind that fills your soul. Between writing and musical pub sessions, between coastal walks and conversations with locals, I found something I hadn't realized I'd lost.
"Life is brief. Beautiful. Sacred. Chase those dreams you've hidden away."
Here's what hit me between the cobblestones and castle walls. We get so tangled in making money and making progress that we forget about making life. Success starts looking like numbers in accounts instead of moments that take our breath away.
Remember when breathing was enough? Before deadlines and notifications became the rhythm of our days? Somewhere in those Irish hills, I discovered that rhythm again. The one that matches heartbeats instead of deadlines and job descriptions.
We enter this world needing just three things: air in our lungs, love in our hearts, and dreams in our souls. Everything else is extra. Yet somehow we've made the extras essential and the essentials extra.
Love isn't just an emotion tucked between meetings. It's the reason for the meetings. For the work. For all of it. Because God is love, and we're created in that image. Maybe that's why nothing else quite fills the space.
The Irish have a saying about time being a gift—not a guarantee. These past weeks showed me they're right. Life moves whether we're living it or planning to live it later.
So here's what I'm bringing home besides melody lines and memories:
Your dreams aren't optional extras. They're road maps to your purpose.
Your breath isn't just keeping you alive. It's reminding you to live.
Your love isn't just making life better. It's making life matter.
Life is brief. Beautiful. Sacred. Chase those dreams you've hidden away. Write that song. Take that trip. Have that conversation. But remember—success isn't measured in achievements or applause. It's counted in breaths shared, love given, and moments when you're completely, wonderfully alive.
Just don't forget to breathe. Really breathe. The rest will follow.
I'm back now, breathing deeper than before and looking forward to writing again. The Irish air may have left my lungs, but its lessons remain. Here's to the next chapter, the next song, the next breath. â—¼
