JUST MY IMAGINATION (RUNNING AWAY WITH ME)

There is a quote by Ursula K. Le Guin that has set me thinking. “I doubt that the imagination can be suppressed. If you truly eradicated it in a child, he would grow up to be an eggplant.” 

This week I’ve been taking great delight in watching the deep, rich imaginative play of my three year old. Yesterday she tied up her toy ‘Wild Thing’ so that he couldn’t eat Curious George. She’s taken to running a bustling cafe for invisible guests and for some reason is always carrying a pistol of sorts (water or spud gun) in her Hello Kitty purse. Occasionally I catch my seven year old in a conversation with someone from his secretive inner life…but my eldest is now firmly grounded in the real world. What causes this change? Where does that vivid imagination go?

For most adults, this imaginative life is crushed out of us with each added responsibility, unless of course, they are lucky enough to make a living in the arts. Why do we banish it? We use negative expressions for those that display this aspect, even in older children – head in the clouds, living in fairyland, he’s a daydreamer and so on. How does something so delightful suddenly become an unwanted behaviour? We only seem to celebrate it if there’s a school mark that makes it okay.

We adults make token seasonal gestures with our children – Santa, the Tooth fairy and the Easter bunny but we have some sort of expiration date on these mythical figures, and we’re quick to dispel them once the child reaches a certain age.

A few years ago I decided I didn’t laugh enough, and went on a manic pursuit of comedians, to get that ‘sore cheeks from grinning’, belly aching laughter that doesn’t seem to come naturally anymore. A year later I decided I didn’t have enough fun – we had lots of enjoyable afternoons and evenings but not that endorphin releasing joy. So off we went to theme parks, water slides and obstacle courses…Now I’ve decided I want that happiness my three year old displays when submerged in her imagination. But how do I do this? I’m at a total loss.

I want the world to have magic to revel in and I want a way to disguise the dull routine of daily life, somehow dressing it up with an instantaneous dinner in Paris or a lavishness that isn’t really there. I want to be able to go back down the rabbit hole and explore the wonders but it seems a little more difficult as those doors are all shut and I no longer have the key.

I guess with age, I’m more like the tied up Wild Thing than the curious little monkey – if truth be told, I’m the tired old woman who just sees a mess of toys and string to be tidied up. Sadly, I guess that could be the new definition of an eggplant.

Do you ever miss the magic and imagination that is crushed out in adulthood?

Linking this old post for #TellUsAbout.Imagination. It was the 6th post I ever wrote but it's still true....