Being a Child

My Awesome Art

When I was four all my paintings were awesome. As were my drawings. I just knew it. When I was four I would sing and dance for anyone, anywhere, anytime. Why? Because it made me and my audience happy. It was fun and that’s all that mattered. There was no cerebral element to it. 

It didn’t dawn on me that I might be good or bad, right or wrong, talented or not, impressive or embarrassing. No, it was a purely emotional and physical experience. An unconscious expression of being a child.

Or, maybe it was an unconscious expression of a person without emotional baggage or ego.

At some stage, you and I learned that play is only for kids. That it can’t be a forever thing. What an unhealthy lesson to learn. Somewhere along the way our fun games became not-so-much-fun competitions. We learned that we shouldn’t spontaneously hug people or tell them we love them – even if we do. Apparently, there’s a time and place for everything. 

Instead of collecting bugs we began to collect issues. Fears. Insecurities. We learned to be more strategic and less intuitive. More cerebral and less emotional. We learned to plan more and play less. And the more we learned, the less happy we became. We were so busy learning that we forgot to laugh.

The average child laughs about four hundred times per day. The average adult? Fifteen.

Pity.