Our eyes were once filled with soulfulness rather than protectiveness. Our lips once spoke without reservation. Our hands once reached for things without fear of failure. Our tears once flowed when they needed to. Once upon a time, we all truly, fully, and simply inhabited who we are.
Looks like I'm back to the #1 spot this time. Small pleasures, right? I have moments in my history that I use as anchors to my more innocent and free self. There is the smell of dried dirt clods in the family garden that are perfect for chucking at my brother or other neighbor kids as we play some game that requires "grenades". The explosive shrapnel of dirt bits, the slight dusty cloud, and the remnant of dirt that sticks to the fort wall or on the clothes of the unlucky target. Its a memory of me using my imagination to it's fullest and being free from any worldly cares or responsibilities. There is also the feeling of the porch swings, my Mom's and My maternal Grandmother's. Located in different paces at different heights and always involving different conversations but both were always a time to sit and learn about the past and ponder on what the future could be. Also a place to daydream about the love I might find one day. Then there's my road adventures in that old Geo Metro with 3 cylinders. I would drive until I didn't know where I was and turn around and find my way home. The more back road, the better. I'd roll down the windows to cool off in the country breeze or even in the winter I'd crank the heat on full blast at my feet and take in the icy cold air for a while. All these things and a few others bring me to my calm center when I remember them and reflect on them. For me it was absolute freedom. I was not tethered to the burdens of what was wrong with me or how I might improve on my weaknesses. I only had potential to enjoy more out of life in those moments.
Beautifully explained and illustrated, Kelly. I hunt that child when I write-- in each of my characters and, necessarily, in myself, in order to write those people truly. For me, a child’s collision with a broken world and her eventual return to open-heartedness is a bedrock illustration of hope.
Thank you so much for this today Dr. Kelly. I’ll be sure to carve out some time to connect back to my younger self, and I’m sure when I see her there will be some chin dribbles.
This is beautiful Kelly. Also so cool to know he’s involved in Second City. I’ve heard about that world from indulging in the podcast Smartless. So many big names we know started there. Also I was literally just working on a piece this week that I’ll publish soon about this exact thing - witnessing my 6mo. old daughter notice herself in the mirror for the first time and smile. Pure goodness. Thanks for sharing this!
I’m still captivated by the memory of my son (who’s now 41) crawling up to our mirrored closet door and recognizing himself for the first time. Drooly face, wispy, feathery hair all askew, and a big ol’ grin on his toothless face. He was totally smitten with himself. I can picture Abba cheering him on, “Yes, son, hold onto Delight for as long as you can. And know that when it gets covered by a false self I will help you take the mask off and restore my gift of Delight to you.
Improv is MAGIC. One of my favorite things in the universe, and I've been so fascinated to have talked to multiple folks on the pod who have felt it not just as an exercise/practice but as a guiding principle in their lives. I want to live more that way, especially after reading Keith Johnstone's book IMPRO last year, which does present it almost as a philosophy of life.
It's also interesting how much I feel like I know Aidan from all your stories, even though we've never met. Kudos to him for following his dream!
Looks like I'm back to the #1 spot this time. Small pleasures, right? I have moments in my history that I use as anchors to my more innocent and free self. There is the smell of dried dirt clods in the family garden that are perfect for chucking at my brother or other neighbor kids as we play some game that requires "grenades". The explosive shrapnel of dirt bits, the slight dusty cloud, and the remnant of dirt that sticks to the fort wall or on the clothes of the unlucky target. Its a memory of me using my imagination to it's fullest and being free from any worldly cares or responsibilities. There is also the feeling of the porch swings, my Mom's and My maternal Grandmother's. Located in different paces at different heights and always involving different conversations but both were always a time to sit and learn about the past and ponder on what the future could be. Also a place to daydream about the love I might find one day. Then there's my road adventures in that old Geo Metro with 3 cylinders. I would drive until I didn't know where I was and turn around and find my way home. The more back road, the better. I'd roll down the windows to cool off in the country breeze or even in the winter I'd crank the heat on full blast at my feet and take in the icy cold air for a while. All these things and a few others bring me to my calm center when I remember them and reflect on them. For me it was absolute freedom. I was not tethered to the burdens of what was wrong with me or how I might improve on my weaknesses. I only had potential to enjoy more out of life in those moments.
Beautifully explained and illustrated, Kelly. I hunt that child when I write-- in each of my characters and, necessarily, in myself, in order to write those people truly. For me, a child’s collision with a broken world and her eventual return to open-heartedness is a bedrock illustration of hope.
Thank you so much for this today Dr. Kelly. I’ll be sure to carve out some time to connect back to my younger self, and I’m sure when I see her there will be some chin dribbles.
So beautiful, so needed, Kelly. And that quote from Aidan in middle school - be still my heart.
This is beautiful Kelly. Also so cool to know he’s involved in Second City. I’ve heard about that world from indulging in the podcast Smartless. So many big names we know started there. Also I was literally just working on a piece this week that I’ll publish soon about this exact thing - witnessing my 6mo. old daughter notice herself in the mirror for the first time and smile. Pure goodness. Thanks for sharing this!
I’m still captivated by the memory of my son (who’s now 41) crawling up to our mirrored closet door and recognizing himself for the first time. Drooly face, wispy, feathery hair all askew, and a big ol’ grin on his toothless face. He was totally smitten with himself. I can picture Abba cheering him on, “Yes, son, hold onto Delight for as long as you can. And know that when it gets covered by a false self I will help you take the mask off and restore my gift of Delight to you.
Improv is MAGIC. One of my favorite things in the universe, and I've been so fascinated to have talked to multiple folks on the pod who have felt it not just as an exercise/practice but as a guiding principle in their lives. I want to live more that way, especially after reading Keith Johnstone's book IMPRO last year, which does present it almost as a philosophy of life.
It's also interesting how much I feel like I know Aidan from all your stories, even though we've never met. Kudos to him for following his dream!