a childhood ambition - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Childhood ambitions are the rocket fuel for the rest of our lives when they come from our own curiosity and drive. They are the seeds of a passion that creates a life well lived. They are a needed part of a healthy brain. With it comes a healthy self that can make healthy relationships within a community that will come to need the skills they develop, even if they cannot see how at the time. So when we learn to trust these childhood ambitions and see them as the seeds of greatness, we all win. There is only happiness and freedom for one when it exists for all.
It is these childhood ambitions that are our guide to the path that is ours to explore. Every lifetime comes with an adventure that is our lifeline, and our compass is built of curiosity and love. It is when the unknown becomes alluring and work becomes play. It is how a challenge becomes welcome and the resolve to achieve it arrives as if it were a prompt and well scheduled train.
I always wanted to be an author, to write stories that brought people joy. I wanted to tell of the ways to love, how to be a source of greatness in even when your path is filled with sharp flints. I wanted to tell tales of the beauty that is everywhere if you dare to seek it, and that this universal love is enough to sustain you. I guess it's a sort of survival guide to hostile environments, or to a toxic era where the love we need to build our brains and have health is either in short or unreliable supply. So that was my childhood ambition, to save the world one little story at a time and grow the pool of love until everyone could at least see the pain that has been killing us all, to stop blaming other seafarers for the storm and instead help me in the only quest that can save us all.
I never dreamt of powerful professions, only a way to build a life full of love. I never a pursued status other than to be the soulmate of a loving partner and mother to my children. I know that is in part because of my fractured upbringing, that I sought what I didn't have and desperately needed. I respect others who harbour other ambitions, yet I resist the notion that their ambitions are greater than mine. How can there be a greater ambition than finding love, understanding love and helping to create a world with more love and happiness? We need good technological solutions to technological issues, but for a great society we need to know what heals us and makes us well. I had secondary ambitions of course, and now that I have the love I need I'm working on those too.
I always wanted to be a veterinary surgeon, to help sick animals. Likely it's because other people were invariably cruel or cold in some way, or at least that was my perspective. Always others were so wrapped up in their own world, their own problems, that I was an afterthought at best. My function in their lives was to be happy and have no problems, someone to be proud of in front of their friends and other family. Always I should get top grades, win at sports, be polite and respectful. Maybe that's why every pain I ever had slipped inside my chest, building up, never being released. I was what female children are supposed to be, gentle and sweet, playing my role like a good little girl. The only reward for that is being handed more and more to deal with by the ones who shout about their needs.
School was the worst: so many bullies, chronic fear and anxiety. At some point you have to cut your losses and move on while you still have the strength to forge a new and better life. Being alone at seventeen wasn't my choice, but I found my way to a happy in a life so different from any of the ambitions I held growing up...
As a boy, all I wanted to do was to fly around space exploring new worlds. There's a part of me that still wants that adventure and know more about what's out there. But as I grew I realized the price tag that came with that life wasn't measured in dollars and cents. I'd never see my parents again, never be there if they needed me. I wouldn't have a wife and children; I'd never see Earth again. I guess that's part of growing up, understanding the finite nature of every life and with every opportunity you take there are so many others you cannot. If humanity ever conquers mortality I would go, knowing that whomever I left behind I'd see again in the future. Now all I want is a decent job that gives me enough to live on and time off for fun with family and friends. I want the kind of work life balance that has eluded my family for generations.
The mountain lay in the distance like a ridiculous green camel hump or perhaps the nose of a slumbering giant turned to rock. Martha held out her hands to make a “picture frame.” It fitted right in, a perfect photograph; from here it even looked two dimensional. She wondered if the air was thin at the top, if it was the kind of peak you had to take an oxygen tank to like some crazy backwards diver. She imagined herself all grown-up, dressed like a professional climber, one of a team. She'd have the spiked shoes and the pick-axe, a woollen hat and sporty lycra clothes under a fur-trimmed Gortex jacket in dusky pink. It was going to be such fun. But the car turned off on the road to Grandmas, the only adventure today would be apple pie with her firm-to-bite pastry.
Mav watched the news. There'd been a new scientific breakthrough, this little gizmo that cost less that a packet of chips was a water purifier. They were going right into production to be sent to developing nations. Mav grinned wide. "Hey, Mom, did you hear that?"
"Yeah, Mav, thank God, eh?" Mav raised a critical eyebrow.
"God? Didn't see him a white coat at three am working until his mind shut down from fatigue. Bet those brilliant egg heads did!" Now it was Mom's turn to frown.
"I never meant that, Mav. Of course the scientists are the heroes here, all I meant is that they're doing God's work. What do you want me to say?" Mav rolled his eyes, she sure had a funny way of seeing things.
"Maybe, thanks Science? You don't read a great book and say, 'Wow, thank God for that novel,' you say the author kicked ass." Mom almost laughed.
"Sure, son, next time I'll say 'Wow, those scientists are amazing." Mav shook his head, but he was grinning too. One day he'd be a scientist, and he'd make Mom proud.
Amelia put on her whites and tidied her hair under the net. She had dreamed of being a chef since girlhood, always watching cooking shows and trying to make the dinner. She was soon experimenting with recipes and developing her own, compiling a recipe book for when she made it big. Somehow it was taking longer to become famous. She made great food, the customers of the hotel sent back only compliments, so when was she getting the big break? When was she getting her own show and a string of restaurants?
I was a story weaver as soon as I began to speak, fantasy worlds spreading from my mind faster than the weeds grew in the springtime. I made new worlds as easily as others learnt their alphabet. They spun in my cerebral cortex, sinking to the back of my consciousness after their creation. Always there was the new world to form, the improved version. I dreamed of making stories to entertain, to delight, yet no longer. Now I dream of telling stories to heal and unite, to take what is broken and make it work anew. In a way I'm still following my childhood ambition, it's just that I've modified it new "grown up" standards.