Baby Boomer Ramblings

Approaching Life with Childlike Wonderment

There is only one way to see our world, and that is through the eyes of a child. It seems that only children can be one with the wonderment of the NOW. Whether it be the secret world of the lawn; the magic of a tidal pool; the dance of swaying trees, a cloud ballet in the sky, a child can see what we adults often miss. They know about God. They talk with him. She talks with them. Sure bills are important, but in the final analysis what will have more impact on your life? Knowing that you paid your electrical bill on time or that flowers are magical designs of color, and some are homes to fairies? What has more impact on your life - reading and knowing what is in the newspaper front to back, or laying in the grass next to a small child and observing a whole universe of life and exploration right there before your eyes? Who are the happiest old people that you know? Those who categorize each complaint of their body, or those who see life through the eyes of a child? Those who try to control every situation and the lives of others, or those who love and accept the childlike wonderment in all of us? Those who hold on to every feeling or those who release them and move on? Those who bitch constantly about their yesterdays, could-have-beens, should-have-beens, or those who live and love their todays? Life is life. It isn't what we might consider "fair"; it just "is". We can approach our circumstances in many different ways. The choice is ours. It always has been. It is the "adult" within each of us that judges and accepts/rejects the circumstances around each of us and chooses how to react. I tend to view life through the eyes of a poet and a child. To my eyes there is a flowing to all that I perceive going on around me. I can pick and choose those aspects of life that I want to involve myself with. I can open to all that flows to me, and follow where my heart and spirit takes me. A child's spirit naturally follows a path that leads to joy and fulfillment, which should be the natural inclination of one's true spirit. The wind blows; the rain falls; a spirit accepts what is happening and goes with it. A poet uses such situations as manna for creating and expressing. A child knows that the wind is a needed ingredient for flying kites. A child will follow leaves blowing in the wind; watch birds soar and glide in it. An adult will complain that all the leaves seem to be landing on his lawn. Rain can monetarily ruin a sunny day; sidetrack plans for going outside. The child might be saddened by the rain at first, but will open up to new adventures within the house - an adventure in the basement among old toys; a fantasy created with toy figures on a crumbled blanket. A rainy day can be an invitation to create with crayons, markers and such. Let rainy days become your invitation to become that childlike artist again. Let it allow you to become that poet of nature. Always be open to rainy day adventures, if only in your mind. I might be older in body these days but not in spirit. I advise all to be open to the worlds of fantasy and exploration. A child can easily become bored, but will not stay in that state long if he/she can. An adult can easily become bored, and will often remain stuck in that state. Often you have to light a fire under someone's bottom to get them moving again. You may need to do it to yourself. Be alert! The bottom line is to never become bored of spirit. Open up - create - explore - become that child with eyes of wonder - be that poet of life! Childhood Clouds I hope that I never losemy childlike nature.When clouds cease to be a source of wonderment;newts and frogscreatures of magical appeal. When dragons no longerprotect secret lairs;when I no longer want to lie(or is it lay?)in the grass watching bees and ants;I know that my soulwill cease to grow.
I vote that alarm clocks get banned,TV News goes unwatched.I hope that dandelions remainthe bouquet of choice for little children.That I will always want to eat peanut butter off the knife,and suck nectar from the endsof yellow honeysuckles. The world of the child is amazed by falling leaves in the breeze;clouds in the sky.
You know this isstill true for me.