A reader e-mailed me the other day, and out of curiosity I checked out her own blog before writing back. (You can find her at Grown Up Mom. )

What I read really moved me. In particular, she has a couple of recent posts about her youngest daughter’s attempt to get accepted into college to pursue a BFA and become an actor. The daughter is determined, but it’s rough out there, and the rejections are rampant. Her mother asks, “Is it stupid to encourage our children to follow their dreams?”

I e-mailed her back and said that I don’t think so.

As evidence of what can happen if children don’t follow their dreams, I shared with her a shortened version of the following story. Then I decided it was important enough to post about.

I’ve written before about how my perfectionism springs, in part, from having been a “people-pleaser” all my life. I learned early on from my parents, then my teachers and peers, to take my sense of self-worth from how I measured up against other people’s yardsticks—or what I imagined their yardsticks to be.

I also absorbed my parents’ messages about risk, and from these learned fear.

My parents were (are) loving, wonderful people, but they always encouraged me to play it safe, be cautious, and plan for the future. They always encouraged my extracurricular creativity and artistic interests, but when it came to schoolwork, I was told in no uncertain terms that the stakes were high.

“We’d still love you and be just as proud of you if you brought home Cs and Ds, as long as we knew you were trying your best,” they told me. (And to this day, I still believe they really meant that.) “But since you’re such a good student, and you enjoy school so much, it would really help if your grades stayed good enough to get a scholarship. College isn’t cheap.”

This was when I was about 10 or 11 years old.

No pressure, right?

As I hit my teens, I discovered pop and rock music. Unlike my peers, however, just listening and sighing dramatically over my favorite musicians wasn’t enough for me (though I certainly did my share of that, too). I decided I wanted to be a rock-and-roll singer. Front a band. Hold the masses in thrall with the power of my voice and my passion, just like my favorite singers did.

I felt it from them. I loved being on the receiving end. But I wanted to give back—to inspire other people with music in the same way that music inspired me.

But I’d already internalized the message that there was one standard, linear path to a financially secure life—get good grades in school, go on to college, and do well there so that you can land a good job when you graduate.

So it’s not that I took singing lessons or found a band to join and then succumbed to fear—I didn’t even try. I never even saw it as a viable option. Fantasize, sure, but actually pursue? I thought that this was a goal I couldn’t consider “for real”—so I never did.

I earned my B.A. from a good state university, moved to San Francisco, and have now spent over 20 years of my life doing administrative work in a series of “safe” office jobs. I’ve grown more and more miserable, and now, in my early 40s, I’m only just turning the corner and getting really, really angry at having spent so many years supporting other people’s agendas instead of my own.

I’m beginning to look at other options, but I have so much momentum (existing commitments, habits, fears, etc.) built up and pushing me in a direction I don’t want to be going, it’s that much harder to point myself in a new one.

Blogging here at Practice Makes Imperfect is partly my chronicle of breaking out of the people-pleasing mindset and finding the courage to figure out what my own dreams are after all this time.

Who knows? Maybe my rock star dreams would have turned out to be solid and enduring, in which case I might have been singing my heart out under the spotlight in your hometown this weekend.

Maybe I would have tried and totally screwed it up, or tried and pursued it until I was ready for something else.

Or maybe it would have turned out to be a passing teenage fantasy, and I would have at least gained a little experience and knowledge in an interesting area before I quit and moved on.

In any of those cases, my life would be different today for having tried to be a rock singer, even if only because I’d have developed more confidence in the ability to follow my own heart.

I wish I’d had the courage to take that path 20-25 years ago. But I also believe it’s never too late—and that following your dreams is one of the most practical things you can do, because it makes you energized, alert and happy. If you’re in those states, you can achieve a lot.

These days I reserve my singing for the shower . . . but I’m nurturing some other dreams.

I hope you’re doing the same.

I’m sick and tired of being good,
I’m tired of doing what I “should.”
When I do what you want me to
The benefits to me are few.

But I’ve been so well trained to fear
What happens if we don’t adhere
To all the rules we’re taught will keep
Us safe from wolves (obedient sheep)

That I’m no longer even sure
Of what I want; I just endure
Days and weeks and months and years
Of subservience to collective fears.

You say that I must earn my pleasures
By dancing to society’s measures,
Following norms I had no choice in making
With most of my waking hours yours for the taking.

But now I’m making a different choice
And listening to my inner voice
That tells me which rules I want to follow
And which make me choke when I try to swallow.

“Everyone does it” is not an excuse
For allowing myself to be seduced
Into a life that’s unfulfilling
In so many ways—I must be willing

To sever my ties to what you have taught me.
I am not the person you’ve always thought me.
The “good little girl” is growing into
A woman committed to learning what’s true

For herself regardless of what she is told.
She’s scared, but determined, and will not be sold
On a story that keeps her inside of your cages.
She wants to be daring and free and courageous

In facing her fear and her anger and doubt
Along with her laughter and joy, letting out
The pressure that’s built up for much too long
By struggling so hard all those years to belong

To a system she never really believed in.
So I’m waving goodbye now, truly leaving
Your heart-grinding tedium far behind,
Unless you’d like to change your mind

And come along, too. I could use some companions
When fording the rivers and crossing the canyons
I’ll surely encounter along the way—
But make your decision. I’m leaving today.

Pace and Kyeli Smith, two of the coolest people I’ve ever met online, do not think small. They have started a revolution, and two days ago, they released a manifesto explaining it. [Click here to view more details]

I dare you to read this and not feel inspired. Seriously.

The Freak Revolution, they say, is a revolution of ideas. From page 21 of the Manifesto:

No guns. No violent uprisings. No protest rallies. No bullshit. Just ideas. World-changing ideas. It has happened before, and it can happen again.

Think about the Renaissance. When the Renaissance swept Europe and then the world, was there a violent uprising? Were any governments overthrown? Were any anti-art monarchs assassinated? No. The creation and transmission of revolutionary ideas fueled the revolution. The ideas swept through the dominant paradigm, causing changes that continue to ripple through our lives.

I agree with Pace and Kyeli that the time is ripe for some bedrock-level changes to our collective way of looking at the world. They say that we are living under the control paradigm, which gives us certain (and often not very pleasant) ideas about how life works. But the very nature of a dominant paradigm is that we’re so immersed in it, we cease to question its underlying assumptions.

The Freak Revolution Manifesto exposes and deconstructs some of those assumptions, and encourages us to think about whether or not they’re actually true.

There is a lot in this 44-page document to think about, but one of the most powerful realizations that emerged for me was this: Because I’ve been a people-pleaser all my life, I’ve internalized the control paradigm so deeply that I’ve often blamed myself for not measuring up. I never even considered that I might be using a flawed yardstick.

Think about it this way. Let’s say I give you a $50,000 gift card to Home Depot, but inform you that you’ve got to get there and back yourself, choose your materials yourself, and arrange for their transportation. Your job? Construct a house which conforms to all state and local building codes (which you’re perfectly free to research at the library or on the Internet, of course) in two weeks, on your own. Could you do it?

I thought not.

So why do we so often feel responsible for equally insane amounts of stuff, remain in denial about the insanity, and feel guilty and ashamed when we can’t handle it all? Where did we get such a deep-seated need to be superwomen and supermen?

You’ve got it—the control paradigm, which tells us that only when we get a solid grip on everything in our lives simultaneously can we achieve a sense of inner peace. Which is impossible.

In their wonderful manifesto, Pace and Kyeli write about a different paradigm of connection. One in which we connect to our own hearts and souls, with each other, with the world around us, and with the Infinite. One which makes us feel happy, fulfilled, and balanced.

What I really like is that they don’t just talk about all this from a negative point of view, or in general terms, in a way that leaves you angry, frustrated, and thinking, “Great, but now what do I do?” The manifesto goes into quite a few concrete suggestions about how each one of us can start to make real, positive changes in our lives to disconnect from the control paradigm. To unplug from the unrealistic, hurtful, and demoralizing assumptions that we likely imbibed with our mothers’ milk.

And don’t be put off by the word “freak.” Pace and Kyeli use it in a pretty inclusive way. If there is any way in which you feel you don’t fit in or would like to buck the status quo, you can join this revolution.

Please, please read this manifesto. (You can read it online or download it: [Click here to view more details].) I think you’ll be very glad you did. I certainly was.