We often remark how the magic fades. How things used to be so exciting. How things just aren’t the same.
Is this because we get older? More familiar? Because the enchantment actually evaporates?
Well there is plenty of philosophy and opinion that those questions can stir, but something a little more practical and within EVERYONE’s reach is: Create Wonder. Regardless of how distant childhood is, how long you’ve been in the relationship, how many times you’ve done your job.
It’s not like we get away with something when we stop creating. We don’t pay less or get more of anything, life just gently fades and becomes more stale.
It might not really ‘be your thing’ or it may feel uncomfortable to be the one to start drawing on the table cloth or suggest that we all lie on the floor, put our legs in the air and imagine we’re running along the ceiling, but I don’t think it has to come solely from you, just be the usher who opens to the door to Wonder. Who welcomes it in to play.
The one who tickles the sleeping child in everyone else’s bellies, who admits that there’s something hidden that longs to be felt in this moment, that there’s a possibility just out of sight.
Rally the seekers, point into the mystery, guess the secret answer, just start making it up!
…and before you know it – Wonder shows up and everyone remembers the game. They’re crawling and climbing, sniffing and kissing, drinking rain water and humming into each other’s hands.
You absolutely don’t have to though. Everything will keep running along just fine without it. It’s not expected or required, but it’s just wonderful when you do.
It’s no one’s job or responsibility, it’s just a freedom we all have.
I actually find it a bit of a luxury, to be able to seek the magic string and pull the thread until the costumes unravels and our bare baby skin is exposed.
The Universe feels so much more intense and the heart feels like it might have to catch a baseball, thrown hard, and our genitals sway and squoodge like ripe fruit and all the things we’ve been told to memorise are no longer intelligible…
All of a sudden the misfitting mold of adulthood is cracked open and we sit up from the shackles… wiggle out toes, stroke our friend’s hair, feel less alone.
We curl up in a corner or we stand on a table. We lean to one side to peer around the face we’re used to and catch a glimpse of the naked human within the adult suit.
Create Wonder. This skin is antique armour.
Create Wonder. The war can be over.
Create Wonder. ‘The Others’ are inside everyone.
Create Wonder. Be the one who gives up their hiding place first.