At the begining of this month, I got to see a wonderful play called "Tuesday's with Morrie." Apparently it was based off of a book, which I fully intend to read in the (hopefully) not-so-distant future. It's about a old man who is dying teaching a younger man about life. A great thing the older man - Morrie - said in the show was that he didn't envy youthfulness because he had already been there. He said that he didn't need to wish to be twenty again because he could be twenty... or fifty, or thrity-three, or six... whenever he wanted to.
The past two days I have found myself frequently taking a page out of Morrie's book. Yesterday I found a book of Fairy Tales in the library (right by the spot where I found the Scottish Folklore volume). I finished my studying early, and so I ended up reading the whole thing (all 196 pages) that afternoon. It was the most worth while thing I did all day - maybe all week.
Until today, that is. Last week I made a grand discovery - a tree, right near the place where I park my bike every day, that looked like it should be growing in Neverland. It had dozens of smooth, curvy branches just perfect for climbing, and its leaves grew on vines that hung like curtains all around the trunk. Today, being in jeans and having a lunch break available to me, I went to this tree and climbed into the upper branches with my PB&J. It was the first time I had climbed a tree in earnest in many years, and it reminded me of climbing trees and rocks and playhouses and park sets with my younger brothers as a child. Despite much scrambling and scratching and burning muscles and stubbed toes, it was so worth the climb. I sat for half an hour on a sun-dappled branch in a cathedral of greenery, hidden flawlessly from the view of passersby, far removed from the world, and imagined. I could probably write three or four novels from the images that flashed across my mind... kingdoms of faeries... tree-dwelling youths not unlike Peter Pan's lost boys... castles of gold and emerald... It was with greatest reluctnace that I finally manuevered myself back to earth.
There is a point to all this - really, I promise. The point is that it is good for you to go back to being a child for a time. Even grown-ups are still very much allowed to blow bubbles in the backyard, or swing on a park swing until it can go no higher, or eat otter pops in the summer, or watch Disney movies, or snitch from the cookie dough when no one is looking. And doing these things will remind you of what the world was like back when you were that small... a new, beautiful, undeniably magical place, full of new wonders and joys to be had every day.
That's all I've got... for now. Til next time...