If You Dare Nothing
by Louise Gallagher

If life were a poem
would you dare
to dance on rainbows?

If life were a song
would you dare
to sing the morning awake?

If life were a canvas, 
would you dare 
to paint the sky vivid green?

And if life were a story
would you dare
to paint your dreams alive?

If in your life you dare
nothing,
ask yourself, Why Not?

This past Sunday marked a milestone in my life; I mustered the courage to sing in front of a group of over 150 people.

This wasn’t just a spontaneous act. It was the realization of a dream I had nurtured for nearly two decades. Seventeen years, to be precise. And while it may have taken me longer than I initially thought, I’m reminded that the timeline of dreams is less significant than the perseverance to pursue them.

At the age of 16, I had a taste of the spotlight when I won second place in a talent contest. My big brother, ever the protective sibling, perhaps feared that success might go to my head. So, as we walked home after my performance, he sought to ground me with a reminder: that in his eyes, I couldn’t sing, and to him, I appeared as nothing more than a silly little girl. He even went so far as to suggest that the audience were on his side and thought so too..

I tried to brush off his words with laughter and feigned indifference. “I’m going to sing regardless,” I defiantly claimed. But internally, I was shattered. His words held weight, and I retreated from singing in public.

Four decades would pass before I would confront that memory again. Seated in a seminar room on a Sunday morning, I watched another trainee stand up and sing in front of an audience. I wasn’t listening to their skill or pitch. I was mesmerizedby their bravery.

And in that moment, a dormant dream reawakened. I wanted to reclaim my voice, not for the sake of singing perfectly, but to heal that wounded young girl’s spirit and prove to her that she is worthy of her dreams.

So, on this past Sunday, in the Discovery seminar room where I had encountered my shattered dream almost twenty years ago, I sang. I sang not for validation but as an act of personal liberation. It was a triumphant stand, my declaration of independence, against a belief that had held me back for so long: the mistaken notion that I didn’t deserve to see my dreams realized.

My song that day? The very one I sang all those years ago – Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now.”

It was a full-circle moment, symbolizing that while perspectives change over time, dreams – when pursued – can truly come full circle.