I’m returning to the magical playground of my
childhood in Montreat, North Carolina. The time I spent there a week or so ago is still grounding
and nurturing me through this current transition.
***
I venture
through misty mountain roads and journey down through dark, quiet woods. I
follow the luring sound of a bubbling creek meandering through a playground
paradise of swings, playhouses built in trees and swirly slides. This is my
secret garden, a home of pastel-colored memories and imaginative play. The
playground has not aged and it still enchants and fills me with awe.
I choose
my old favorite swing and push toward the sky. My feet flying toward the peak
of a mountain rising in the near distance. I soar up and ripple back into
space. Coming home to self.
Once
again, I am in the company of my younger self. The eleven-year-old comes to
mind – the imaginative one who played and daydreamed. The playground brought me
such peace and such inspiration for stories. I felt so safe and secure here, so
very introverted and at home.
Standing
on the edge of the creek, I exist in the present and the past. I’m seeking
wisdom from my younger self.
As I
embark on this transition from my present job to the next life step, I’m
curious to ask and ponder on my passions and life loves. As a child, what did I dream of becoming? What did I do naturally and
spontaneously that lit up my heart and brought joy?
The
memories and answers emerge in a soft light. I read, imagined and acted
out stories. I was pulled toward writing and acting. Storytelling held the
appeal.
I know writers in love with words
and grammar rules are coded in their DNA. For me, that’s not what resonates. It’s
the story. A story that can find expression in words, the stage, or maybe even
dance and a yoga mat.
I also
recall just how quiet I use to be and how at heart I am a true introvert, one
who loves to listen and feels utterly alive when I am alone in the comfort of
books and music. I do love people. I love sparkling up and sharing time with
them, maybe offering a listening ear, but this pseudo-extrovert appearance has
fooled even me. I’m deeply introverted and I need to honor that core need for
stillness and peace.
These
are small, but significant epiphanies I carry away as I leave the tall, kind
trees and this precious space of childhood play. This trip to the past has not
left me heavy with nostalgia. This playtime in the mountains has empowered me
and I leave grounded and inspired by the wisdom of my younger self.
Now I ask you: What insight and wisdom can you gain
from your younger self? How can you honor those answers in your present life?
