I remember being a very aware and joyful child, at two years of age or younger. It’s clear that something happened to me between then and adulthood. How is it that adult life becomes so serious, so burdened, that we constantly look for ways to numb and escape? TV, chocolate, alcohol, work, sex… somehow never recapturing that joyful flow, wisdom, presence and sensitivity of childhood. I like to observe kids, as many adults do. Something in them answers questions in us, even if we don’t know we’re asking. I wonder whether all of the child I was is really lost, or still in there somewhere? I do have a very playful, silly ‘streak’ and don’t mind looking ‘childish’ in public if I’m having harmless fun, like doing slippery-shoe slides along the shopping mall floor, or hanging out of a nice tree.
But I notice with some sadness that what’s classed as ‘fun’ by many adults is harmful of themselves and others. It seems the definition of a good weekend can be: how destroyed by alcohol your brain and body is by Monday morning, or how many videos you watched, or whether you’re in pain from an overstuffed stomach at a smorgasbord, or whether you ‘scored’ in a night club, or how ache-y you are from too much hard work in the gym, house and garden…. To me, none of these feel like the flowing joys of childhood. Why should ‘simple and healthy’ be associated with children, whilst ‘complicated and harmful’ are associated with adulthood?
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