I rarely like television commercials, let alone get inspired by them, but I thoroughly enjoyed a recent promotion for PBS. The clip begins with a goldfish in a bowl looking through the glass and watching a nearby television; there’s a show on about the journey schools of salmon take as they leap up stream during their spawning season. Well, before you can say “I’m outta here” the goldfish is out of that bowl and on his way to “hang ten” with the salmon. The caption reads:  dare to explore!

Somehow, this goldfish manages to jump out of its bowl and right out the window, where fate, determination and a large dose of animation lead him to the promised water. Of course, when I think realistically, I recall one of my first guppies who leapt right out of its bowl and onto my bed, where I sadly found his remains upon returning home from school. Well, I cried it a river – too late of course.

Whose life hasn’t at some point felt like they’re swimming around in circles, trapped in a seamless bowl? It’s really a wonderful metaphor for when life seems to be going nowhere and everything that’s happening is “out there” rather than “over here”. I think we can all empathize with the goldfish and recognize our stuck selves wanting to leap over the limitations in our lives.

So, is it possible to be happy in our own little bowl? Is it safe or wise to want to leave? I’ve seen many cases that have proven both choices to be viable as well as neither being the solution. It’s a different stroke for different folk, for sure.

Last night I had a dream that reminded me of a journey I took outside of my bowl some time ago. Like many, the bowl I left was my family and home. I headed to another city to study my favorite thing in the world, dance. I could have used a little animation myself to get past some of my bigger hurdles, but some were greater than me and in the end I let go of my dream in order to deal with the more pressing issues at hand, like survival, depression and paying the rent. For many years after I stopped dancing I would dream endlessly of performances I never gave and the classes and people that I missed. It was a door I closed and, though difficult, I understood that my survival required me to take this step. It was very hard on my spirit, but I was glad that I had at least followed my dream and survived the leap out of my bowl.

My dream last night was an interesting reminder of all that. In it I was visiting two women who were living in an apartment that was a mirror of the one I lived in after I stopped dancing; it was a bit like being in a parallel world. I was very intrigued with being able to walk down the hallway and see all the rooms in reverse, and enjoyed the feeling of familiarity while at the same time being aware of how very different things were for me on the other side of the mirror. I heard some beautiful music playing and my spirit was overcome with the urge to dance. I was in the living room of these women that I didn’t seem to know very well, but felt sufficiently at ease to twirl away on their rug and lose myself in the melody. For some reason this didn’t feel like enough at one point and I turned towards a set of doors that opened onto a courtyard. My spirit pleaded with me to set it free. I could open the doors but there were metal bars locked over them and there was no way for me get past them. A part of me was already leaping through the trees and dancing with the flowers, but all that the rest of me could do was look outside of my fish bowl at something I couldn’t have.

The positive thing I recognized out of this was that I could dance wherever I was. It didn’t matter if it was the smallest room or the darkest closet, nothing could stop the force within me that loved to dance and feel free. So I can’t say that I’m the goldfish in the bowl, the dead guppy, or the traveling salmon. In reality, this flapper is the one in the downtown underground dance studio, tapping to her heart’s delight twice a week with a new tap dance guru, feeling free as a bird.