On day four, you wrote a post about losing something. (In blogging terms that is like three centuries ago.) Today, write about finding something. (I already created a draft version of what I thought the series was going to be about, so stuff ya’ll!) Today’s twist: if you wrote day four’s post as the first in a series, use this one as the second installment — loosely defined. (I’ll try.)
The only thing clearer about my inability to follow these prompts accurately would be my inability to stay focused on the task at hand, i.e post daily. I have a convenient excuse. I might suffer from ADHD, as per Dr Google. So here goes my interpretation and an attempt at pleasing the Blogging Gods (aka the Editors of WordPress) who must be seriously annoyed at my lack of commitment to Writing 101.
Not only is Rise of the Guardians one of the best animated movies of all time, it also causes severe silent crying. Especially the pivotal scene when Jack Frost realizes that a little boy can actually SEE him. He does his best to make a little boy believe in miracles and the Tooth Fairy, when suddenly this kid gets a priceless, shocked expression on his face. He sees Jack Frost for the first time and the animators captured that moment brilliantly. And then there is the moment when Jack realises what his center is…Just watch the movie.
Even thinking about those scenes makes my eyes well up as it reminds me of the power of imagination. Compared to actually watching the scenes, resulting in bucket loads of tears streaming down my face. It’s not particularly attractive to see a grown man cry that much, so I make sure I’m alone when the movie starts. Or I cut onions and pretend to be cooking up a storm.
The reason why that specific scene plays out like a typhoon on my emotions is probably due to the fact that it captures the second thing adults lose growing up. The first thing was our sense of humour. The second thing being our Sense of Wonder. Those moments of suspended disbelief. When we believe anything is possible and we leave our cynicism and sceptic nature at the door. Those fleeting moments when we embrace our sense of fantasy and adventure.
And who can blame us for losing it?
Life is life and it happens daily. We’re all running around, trying to keep our shit together and not throwing it in the fan. Or maybe more accurately, riding a unicycle on a pile of cylinders, keeping seventeen flaming torches in the air, with kids tugging at our shirts constantly. And doing this without breaking a sweat. Acting normal. For that’s what adults are suppose to do.
It’s waking up, getting dressed, having breakfast, racing to school. It’s work and travel and bills and money and maintenance and household chores and dentist appointments and family obligations and the sadness and the tragedy of life and the moments with friends, that comes at the expense of family and the crucial quality time with our children that we battle to find and being a good husband or wife and…well life…I’m exhausted.
And we all do it. Everyone runs around like a headless chicken. Trying to survive or cope or not to kill each other. In the midst of all of that, in the midst of trying to make a decent life, we lose our sense of wonder.
We lose that ability of letting go, every now and again. We forget how great it is to suspend reality and just dream for awhile. Moments when we lie down in green fields, look up at the sky and try and find weird animals in the clouds passing by. When we see dinosaurs with tutu’s and old people with wings.
Adults only see clouds, white formations of moisture that accumulates in the atmosphere with the promise of rain. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s not fluffy white stuff anymore. Adults don’t see the stories in the clouds, we know the facts. We know why they are there. We ignore our imagination.
Which makes this post one of the saddest things I’ve ever written.