As children, our imaginations were as vast and vivid as clear, sunny day in July. We ran around outside, chasing our siblings or friends, deep in our games of playing pretend. Some of us wanted to be princesses and princes of far away kingdoms. Others wanted to be fantastical creatures, running through the woods escaping uncertain danger. We made our dolls and toys come alive like the infamous story of Toy Story, not because they were all possible, but because we believe them to be so. It was our trust in what could be that led us to our colorful memories of our childhoods.
Somewhere along the line through reading textbooks and writing essays, our imaginations slipped out of reach. Some of us found ourselves itching for a way to let it all out, channel it like we used to. We turn to art, music, empty pages, or sprinting on tracks to unleash some of the potential we once had when we played pretend. We shy away from the criticism of our peers, suddenly far more mistrusting of our creative side because it’s our most vulnerable aspect of ourselves, our true selves. Our belief turns into speculation and we find ourselves on the opposite side of the fence, staring back at our childhood selves with one question in mind: where did I lose that immovable confidence?
The fact of the matter is we never lost that confidence. It disappeared somewhere deep inside of us, right next to all the lost dreams we had as kids. The dreams we had to see the world. Become knights, kings, and queens. Dance on stage in New York City. See our artwork in a museum on display. Race on the track against the best of the best in the world. Childhood is the place where dreams thrive, like roses that are close to blossoming and opening up to the world around them. It’s our child self that holds the most pure intentions with what we see for ourselves as adults, and that’s why in order to be truly happy, we must find that child inside of all of us.
We must dig through the years of social adjustments and experience that piled on top of all the reckless optimism we once housed. Somewhere beyond the years of growing up, those dreams still burn with a dim light, waiting to be rescued and revived. Our biggest and longest dreams are not dead. They never die, despite what we may believe as we grow up and fit into our roles as adults. Our realistic dreams, the ones that we were fascinated with as little kids, are the ones that will bring us the brightest smiles and the most fulfilling satisfaction. Those are the things that will save us when all hope seems to be lost, when we have lost our direction even just temporarily. The most important thing is that no matter what you do in your life, you always make one person ecstatic: the child within.
