I remember coming back from an event feeling really frustrated with the company I was with. They were the type of people who loved being miserable. The type of people who couldn’t find joy in the small moments of life.
It was insinuated to me that I was being “childish" simply because I wasn’t like that. Simply because I was easily happy and pleased.
The word “childish” is used as an insult to insinuate naivety but that evening as I poured my heart to my journal it struck me that there was power in staying a child.
Was I planning to write a poem? No. I’m no poet, and not even the biggest fan of poetry until relatively recently. And I’m still not sure if I can even call this a poem. But that evening, as I began to write what was meant to be a standard blog post, the words flowed differently and ended up as this.
—
Stay a child, my friend.
Even if you’re twenty, thirty or even sixty.
Even when your bones are creaking
and it hurts to just stand up,
stay a child.
Stay a child
so that when you see the expanse of grass
under a sunny sky,
you feel your heart soaring.
Your feet itching to take off,
to race into freedom.
Your chest expanding as you spin around,
the bubble of laughter bursts out
from the joy deep within.
Stay a child
so that when you see a ball and a hoop,
your limbs move before your mind.
Feet pounding against the gravel,
and then you are in the air.
Flying for a moment — heart in your throat,
ball in your hand.
Then ball in the hoop —
pure unadulterated joy.
Stay a child
so when life trips you up
and you fall down hard — hands bloody, knees scraped,
you stumble back up
with that cheeky grin
on your face.
Stay a child
so that you see life as a puzzle,
waiting to be solved
Each moment, a moment of learning
like a single turn
on an infinite Rubik’s cube.
And if they say you’re too old
for any of this.
Then my friend,
stay a child.
Even if you’re twenty, thirty
or even sixty.
Even when your bones are creaking
and it hurts to just stand up, stay a child.
And fill every moment with joy.
—
If you reached till the end of this ramble (aka poem), thank you my friend. I appreciate it!
I hope we get to meet each other in my next post too. Until then, if you have any thoughts about what you’ve just read let me know (in the comments or any other way). I’d love to start a conversation!
And if you’d like to have my rambles reach you directly, consider subscribing with your email below.
