Memories of A Dreamer

It had been 9 years since I came to Turkey the first time. I doubted it had changed much. On the other hand, I know for sure I'm a different man now, but I didn't explicitly know how, exactly.

I haven't thought about Antalya much at all, but when I walked through Hadrian's gate into the old town, things started coming back. But I didn't feel the same sort of wonder and excitement as the first time.

Part of that is because travel isn't a novel thing for me like it was then. That's normal. But I looked at a palm tree while having breakfast in the old town and realized I could almost see through it. Not like Superman, but the fact of this palm tree was distinctly less impactful than when I saw them before. So I almost didn't notice it. It was less beautiful this time. Like most other things I was seeing again.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, they say. But what does perceived beauty suggest about the beholder?

It's not like my views on palm trees have somehow changed. I think the question then, is, what makes something beautiful? I guess that's partly determined by it's intrinsic characteristics. But less obviously, by what it represents.

So what do that thousands year old gate, the old town's architecture, the palm trees, and the nearby views of the Mediterranean represent? Even the same person might not answer that the same way, 9 years apart. But if you believe that these things are here for you if you want them, that you are in a position, or will soon be in a position to experience these and other such things at will, then the effect of the intrinsic beauty in these things is greatly enhanced. That is to say, something beautiful is more beautiful if you believe it could be yours; if it decorates your dreams.

On the one hand, most people would agree that it would be great if such things were available to them at will. Yet they are not all filled with wonder and excitement when they see them. Perhaps they lack belief that these things could be theirs.

And why wouldn't they? Young people often feel that the world is their oyster. What folly. The world is not anyone's oyster. But isn't it interesting how powerful a delusion this can be? If you truly believed it, imagine the beauty of your dreams. Imagine what you might be willing to do to make them come true. And with that Herculean effort behind them, what if they did come true?

What is the cost of feuling that delusion? I think it depends proportionally on the extent to which you've understood that the world is not anyone's oyster. To understand this is to have understood failure. And such understanding is kryptonite to unsophsticated self-confidence and whimsical beliefs.

So while belief looks naive in the young, to find it in others could suggest something more sophisticated. To understand failure and believe despite it suggests the strength to honestly lift the total weight of those failures and still have leftover strength to make progress.

This is rare. It is difficult. It was what I wanted to find on this trip. I want to dream again. And as I write this on the flight back, I think I might have a shot. Lets see if I'm being naive again this time.