Less than six weeks ago, a good friend and I had a conversation about one of her deepest aspirations. She’s been on the staff at her church for many years, but she confessed to me for the first time that she’s listening for a call from God to be an ordained minister.

I understood this was big.  Like me, she’s a daughter of the South and the modern feminist movement, a woman molded as much by the hospitality and charm of Southern Living as the ideals of Ms. magazine. Like me, she was directly told by her parents that she could do and be anything. So she certainly has the self-confidence to take that pulpit by storm. Yet she’s very sensitive to her church’s history and even its lingering present-day reluctance – in some circles – to completely embrace women as leaders. It’s a complex situation, but one she expressed faith in waiting out. “I’ve written about it,” she said, surprising me just a bit. I mean, I’m supposed to be the writer. She emailed her essay to me and I understood even better what motivates both her desire and her patience.

But she may not have to be nearly as patient as I was anticipating. Last week, she shared some big news: an opportunity working for her denomination at the state level has opened up, and she has been asked to apply. She wasn’t scanning the classifieds looking for a new job – this opportunity came to her. The job description looks like it’s been written for her. It even mentions that a woman is desired, and no woman has filled this position before.

Is this coincidence? I think not. Call it the universe, call it karma, call it a God-thing, I think my friend opened up this opportunity for herself when she admitted her dream: first in her mind, then on paper, and then to a friend she knew would support and encourage her.  We both acknowledge that it’s too early to know if this opportunity is really the one, but it’s undoubtedly going to lead her to further conversations and contemplations that will build momentum for her dream.

There is power in admitting your dreams.

Is doing so risky?

Hell, yeah.

Admitting your dream means opening yourself up to the naysayers, and the people who just don’t understand, and probably to some part of your own self that says your dream is too big because…you’re too young, you’re too old, you’re not smart enough, your education and experience is in the wrong field, you’ve got too many other priorities like your family and your job and your…well, you get the idea. But when you acknowledge the force that’s giving you your dream, you channel that force, Princess Leia, and things start happening.

Of course, this blog isn’t supposed to be about my friend’s risk a day, it’s supposed to be about mine. I’ve recently had my first book of poetry, Heaven Was the Moon, published. I could be writing on this blog about all of the risks I’ve already taken in getting to this point in my creative writing career, but that feels like cheating. So here I am, in the example that my friend set, ‘fessing up to a new dream: I don’t just want to be a poet, I want to be a performance poet. I want to talk about poetry to readers and writers. I want to convince the  masses – or at least a few unsuspecting souls – that poetry’s a lot more enjoyable than what they experienced in high school English.

At my book’s debut at the Southern Festival of Books, my daughter Kelsey played fiddle, banjo and mandolin music while I read. Needless to say, this wasn’t a spontaneous thing – it’s something we’d been working on together for a few months, and each of us has been honing our respective reading and instrumental skills for many years. It was only our second time to perform together, but things went pretty well. One member of the audience later told me I reminded her of Minton Sparks, a performance poet I really admire. Several people told us we should record a CD.

Kory Wells reads poetry and Kelsey Wells plays the fiddle at the Southern Festival of Books in Nashville, October, 2009.

For one of our selections, I read a sonnet while Kelsey played the 12-bar “Milk Cow Blues” on mandolin, and I’d even go so far as to say we rocked. Or, at least, it felt that way. When I look back at the video (which did not turn out well, or I’d share it with you), I see a middle-aged woman who needs to lose ten pounds and seriously reconsider her decision to forgo highlights and go gray naturally. But then I remember: with that microphone in front of me, I felt comfortable, even powerful (after I wiped my sweaty palms). I felt tall (I’m not). I somehow felt right. And I had that realization – which I’d already suspected, of course – that this is what I want to do. So, although I have plenty to do with promoting my book, working my “real” job, being engaged with my family, and somehow finding time to write, I know I have to work toward these other goals, too. Despite how unlikely and ridiculous they may sound. Despite all the reasons I may fail (which I’ll be sharing with you in future blog entries).

You can’t ignore what feels right in your heart.  What are your dreams? Have you written them down? Shared them with a supportive friend or community? Take a step in the direction of your dreams today. And let us know here at Risk a Day how it goes. We’ll be here to cheer you on!

Kory Wells would like to say she brazenly tossed aside her twenty-year career as a software developer to forge a lucrative career in poetry. She’s content to report that she now writes poetry, prose, corporate communications, and the occasional snippet of software code in a life-work balance that functions pretty well most of the time. Author of the poetry collection Heaven Was the Moon, she’s been recognized by Ladies’ Home Journal for her “standout” writing in the anthology She’s Such a Geek. Visit Kory's website.
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