A Sunday sentiment on childhood.
Of all the unnecessary new things adults learn, forgetting how to be in childhood is the most reckless.
We become serious, coordinated, and calculated. We think far too much only to have thoughts far too little—thoughts that float well below the clouds, forests, and fairies and are infinite.
We make judgments instantly, opinions confidentially, and declarations firmly.
Less surprise. Reduced curiosity. Fading wonder.
Play is something we schedule. Exploration is a state we sign up for. Time is a currency we count, trade, sell, and often lose.
Yet we weren’t born this way. Childhood is a natural state of wonder and presence that knows no age, respects no calendar, tracks no days, and sees no end.
It is, however, something we are taught to give away at the end of each Summer.
At the arrival of certain ages. At the celebrating of fancy milestones.
We wonder how many children watch us adults with the same calling that we feel as we watch them - a sense of longing.
For days that felt like eternities. For Summers that lasted lifetimes. For the infinite joy found by moving pebbles, catching grasshoppers, and making nests of grass underneath a shady tree.
To see a fellow child in the panorama of play and simply ask - “do you want to be friends?”
To lose oneself in the awe curiosity.
“What is this? How is that? Where will that be, and when?”
So much to learn and an endless stream of sundowns and sun ups to learn it.
This is childhood.
Regardless of age, it’s never too late to remember how to dwell in childhood.
For you adults out there, remembering teaches your littles the power of never forgetting in the first place.
There is no back-to-school. Growing up. Getting old. There is only learning to forget.
Not sure where to start remembering? Come follow the grasshoppers; they seem to be a really good teacher right now.
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