As children, our imaginations were infinite. No, we couldn’t create complex plots and our biggest fears were typically “getting lost” or “a tornado is coming” (the common problems that arise in the stories the kids I babysit tell). But we didn’t allow the world to tell us what could and couldn’t happen. As far as we were concerned, anything we said, went.
Dinosaurs and deer were best friends. Barbies tried to take over the world. And kitties got lost on the daily.
But as we grew older, we lost that sense of wonder. Even as we honed our writing skills and perfected our craft, we forgot to go on adventures, to build mansions with Legos, and to play hide and seek, giggling as we peeked from behind the curtains.
The mind of a child is a curious thing. A special thing. A thing we often put aside in favor of our academic mind, which we take out at parties to try to impress each other. It rarely works.
When you’re reading and writing, it’s a major detriment to yourself and others to operate only from your academic mind. To embrace words like a child is to allow them to hit you fresh, even if you’ve read something “similar” before.
This weekend, as you read and write, open up to new experiences. Allow yourself to relive old ones with a fresh perceptive. Tap into your childhood self, where you made houses for fairies out of sticks and pine needles, and you rode your toy Jeep through the yard, chased by dinosaurs. Let yourself live in a whole new (old) world, and see what effect it has. I daresay, you may like it.