Ever wonder what it is like to learn something from a child? Chances are you already have, but were so busy being an adult you no longer remember.
How simple is that?
Adults learn simplicity from children every day:
- In the unmasked questions they ask.
- In the politically incorrect phrases they utter.
- In the beautiful ideas that sprout in their fertile minds.
The imagination of a child is a wonderful thing, uncontaminated by society’s determination of impossibility. To not be jaded by age and experience and see the world again through hopeful eyes would be a delight. Just test drive it for a little while.
I want to sit in the center of the floor, with a sheet over my head draped between chairs, and imagine the sea salty air on my cheeks. I could again spend hours hearing the seagulls circle the crow’s nest, as I searched through a rolled construction paper spyglass. I would canvass the horizon’s waves for a glimpse of an elusive island around which swam mermaids.
There would be no thoughts of impossibility. Having not experienced failure would open my mind again to dreams, long written off either to fear of failure or the mere chance of it. I could embrace my own ambition to chase dreams of entrepreneurial bliss.
Trust would be a guarantee. I would believe all of the information I received would be true. When I could not accomplish something on my own, I need only ask to receive assistance.
Forever would have a meaning. “I love you forever,” I would tell those close to my heart. No ill effects would ensue at the end of a relationship because the end would never come. Letters would be endlessly exchanged, telephone calls made and house calls routine.
Time would be universally immense. I would never be in a rush. A world without deadlines or expiration dates would give me license to smell my roses, walk hand-in-hand with my husband at sunset and roll in the grass with my children and the dogs. The dinner bell would not signal an interruption, but instead an invitation to imagine feasts untold.
Beauty in my Eye
All creation would be beautiful. The mystery of the veins on the back of a shed leaf, as I lie beneath the sweeping boughs, would entrance me, taking me to thoughts of rivers and streams. A tree house would be a Olympian palace from which I could see for miles. A bed of ants would be the guardian foot soldiers to protect my province.
Color Outside the Lines
The adult world can be so drab and colorless, with its constraints on time and tact. Every adult can learn to color outside the lines by their children before they are taught to conform into grown-up ladies and gentlemen. Put on an eye patch, before it is too late.
What do you do to foster your inner child?
© Red Dwyer 2011
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