“What happens to a dream deferred?” Langston Hughes once asked, a good and relevant question for us. How is a dream itself changed by lack of fulfillment, by waiting and anticipation? If it remains on journey and never arrives does it become more refined, more covered with grime and bruises, or a bit of both? What new forms might our dream take as we shape and reshape it on the spinning potter’s wheel with our hearts and minds? And if a dream were no longer deferred but realized–if it came true–would it even still be a dream? There are a lot of dreams in the Bible; many of them seem to have been given by God. To what end? For satisfaction and stasis, or for dynamism and journey?
I have a dream for a new endeavor and community named Tau, the Greek letter that symbolizes new and abundant life and serves as a symbol for the Franciscan tradition, known for love of nature and of animals, for living simply, for childlike joy, and for traveling to share God’s love through through a holistically winsome lifestyle. When the dream first struck I had just returned to gridlocked New York City from a month in a wilderness archipelago off the Caribbean coast of Panama. The dream was grandiose and seemed impossibly distant: stewardship of off-grid eco-retreat centers around the world for modern people to have transformative and immersive experiences of shalom–harmony with nature, self, community, and God. I imagined people as starved for such experiences and believed paid retreats could fund free renewal retreats for those in need, particularly clergy. This would create a loop wherein clergy could share their Tau experiences with parishioners and leaders (who might come), then churches could catch a vision for environmental stewardship and creation-care not through argument but by new appetite for shalom, gain respect for and humility in relationship with indigenous and diverse peoples, and learn to love the wonder of the world again–particularly their own part of it.
Could I ever become what I intended to offer, a person of well-being living out shalom?
The immediate question my dream and community put to me was this: Would I move my family to Panama or not? Was I being called to follow the example of St. Francis and fully immerse in the dream? If not, could I ever become what I intended to offer, a person of well-being living out shalom? More to the point, my wife and I (along with at least some of our kids) were hungering and thirsting for a new way of life, one that came easily in a place like Bocas Del Toro, Panama, but that was very difficult to experience in the chaos of a global megalopolis.
When the ancient Israelites tasted the fruit Caleb and the spies brought back from the Land of Promise, did it taste to their dusty tongues like a ridiculous dream? Did it force decisions? Was the immensity of the grape-cluster or the toothsomeness of the sweet fig or the fresh pop of the pink pomegranate seed enough to dispel their fears, to keep the dream from becoming a haunting nightmare? Did it keep them going as they went about their daily peripatetic chores, hungering and thirsting for something more, for a life and land they’d been promised though their trudge through the wilderness only extended year after year? For some of them, it must have. How often? Daily, monthly, only at Festival? For a precious few of them was it an ever-present hope? Maybe some were wholly disinterested. Probably many were afraid of the dream’s challenges and became disbelieving and preoccupied, the long desert pilgrimage having become familiar and fact, having slowly step by step turned into a way of life, a culture, an identity.
I used to think God’s mission was to use me to change this broken world. I now think his mission is to use this broken world to change me.
I used to think God’s mission was to use me to change this broken world. I now think his mission is to use this broken world to change me. Perhaps my Tau dream is as much for me as it is for the world. Since receiving the dream in the Spring of 2021 my appetite for more wellness and wholeness has only increased. My family’s longing has grown for a strange land and life that tastes of fruitfulness and peace. Our hearts and minds have been spinning with desire for more regular experiences of childlike joy, of awe, discovery, connection with nature, God and others. Shalom. But the full realization of our dream is deferred. We have kids committed to school here. We have parishioners we love and want to walk with in a season of upheaval. We’ve lived in and loved New York City longer than any other place in our lives. And so I’ve settled for long, monotonous, post-industrial walks to the East River to smell the saltwater and watch the current, for monthly (at most) surfs at the end of an hour’s death-drive. I’ve nearly died with longing to escape to deeper retreat, but instead of hearing a voice of release I’ve felt the call to work out my shalom right here with fear and trembling. To build it into the busyness where I am. Shalom is often easier to experience on intentional retreat in special places; it’s harder at home, in modernity, in relationships, in responsibility. I have been laboring for years to build habits, ways, and perspectives that enable me to survive in the hustle and bustle of New York City. Many of these ways of life are contemplative or inspired by the Franciscan tradition. I want Tau and our retreats to help people create practices of “sustainable spirituality” in their life at home. Maybe, for now, my dream is meant to change us rather than to change the world.
We sing of New York, “If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere.” If I can find shalom here, can I find it anywhere? Maybe the dream is deferred until we have eyes to see and ears to hear the kingdom of peace where before we only discerned brick, mortar and urban din. Perhaps the dream is meant to help us perceive that even in our haphazard wandering the chaos is not chaotic to God. Come, King of Peace, and help me to become what I want to offer. Help us to keep faith and carry the delicate dream all the days of our sojourn. Tau is me. Tau is now. Tau is wherever you are, fellow pilgrim, for there you are and God is with you. You have everything you need. We are the dream and the dream is already among you.
Jamison Galt is a pastor and one of eight Dream Pod Members in Goldenwood’s 2022 Dream Forum. This reflection is part of Goldenwood’s #InsidetheDreamPod series.
About Jamison’s dream, Tau: My dream is to love the world by guiding people on transformative journeys toward shalom, which we understand to be cosmic, communal, and personal well-being and the intended destination of all things. We offer paths forward through immersive experiences of Wilderness (off-grid eco-retreats and adventures), Wellness (holistic thinking, being and doing), and Way-of-Life (habits of sustainable spirituality). More: www.taujourney.com. Contact me at: jamison@taujourney.com