speaking of me (this is my journal, after all)... right now i'm reflecting on one of the best advantages of being a child. the cool thing about being a child, is that it's perfectly okay, and even expected, for you to live a self-centered life. i mean, you have to share with peers and obey parents and stuff, but when it comes down to the things you are responsible for, the things you worry about, the things that motivate you to live, to simply be alive-- it's all about yourself!
as long as your needs are met (which is not only your own primary concern, but the concern of those around you as well, which is nice), you are free to simply enjoy the world. the big questions that have to deal with daily are, "what game should i play? who would be the most fun to play with? how do caterpillars turn into butterflies? i wonder if there are any frosted cherry pop-tarts left... when's Mom coming home so we can watch Toy Story together?" i mean, seriously! that's the life! that's probly why kids are so amazingly creative. they don't have to worry about stuff, so their brains are free to wander in between reality and surreality.
but when you grow up, that gets crowded out by the analytical. it gets crowded out by the demands placed upon you by society, family, friends, a boss, a teacher, a lover. maybe your own ideals make demands of you, so that you are your own creativity's own worst enemy.
on the other hand, you still have a need to be set free once in awhile. for the sake of your own health (upon which most other things in your life depend), you still need time to simply enjoy life, enjoy yourself, focus on just yourself. we're designed that way, right? so now it's this tension between genuine, perfectly valid cares concerning the real world around you... between that, and your own imagination / freedom. and it can't be integration, because how can you dream and worry at the same time? no; sorry, Rybarczyk. it has to be balance this time. they are pitted against one another, worries and imagination.
~ ~ ~
imagination was my life once. as a kid, i had the internal freedom i needed to enjoy school, enjoy daydreaming, enjoy whatever. now my concerns rule me, and in their self-righteousness they will not be diminished by some carnal, selfish need, even if it is the need to just dream. my world demands my attention; to ignore it, even for a moment, would be irresponsible. i cannot, even for a few seconds, leave my own castle. and everywhere within it, court officials and needy petitioners follow me like shadows. noisy shadows. suffocating shadows.
i enjoy sleep and singing so much, because they are my only escape. even my greatest joy, my most intense, intimate relationship, is not free of worry; if anything, it is the issue most in need of my attention. it creates new concerns, new worries, new pressures and demands and stressors. concern crowds out joy, limits freedom, stifles imagination, keeps my soul from breathing deeply. except when i'm asleep or singing, i'm running at a grueling pace... or i'm thinking about the fact that i should be, which is just as tiring.
someday i'll relax, perhaps. but only when my world no longer needs me to rule.
i would gladly throw my crown at the feet of some worthier ruler.