Hi everyone! I wish you all a very happy Easter weekend!
For us adults we may not be searching for candy and chocolates in plastic eggs hidden around the place…but I hope we can still find that childlike joy and excitement. We lose a lot in growing older; we’ve long passed the bringers of presents and tasty goodies. I personally wish I could return to that clean slate of imagination and possibility. I know it’s in there somewhere…and when the light shines just right I swear that my imaginary friends are watching. Imagination is beautiful and faith is never stupid. Maybe Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny are our first introduction to faith. We learn to abandon them and that’s just a natural course of life, but I’d like to say hi to my old friends. They remind me that any destination can be arrived at with a spectacular story. With an ounce of creativity, an open mind and a sprinkling of faith, the ordinary can become extraordinary. Children have an endless supply of these ingredients but they grow harder to come by as we get older. Intellect and reason are praised beyond measure leaving little room for the joy of mystery and fiction. What is my point with all of this? I don’t know myself…I just feel nostalgic at the old age of 22. Pretty silly right? In any case, what’s so different then about having faith in a ‘far-fetched’ dream? When we transform from believers to the ones putting those gifts under the tree or hiding those eggs…we become the Santa Clause, we become the Easter Bunny. We embody the faith. We keep the imagination going for others. I want to keep it going inside myself. I want to believe in what’s hard to believe. Not that there are reindeer and elves; but that anything is possible. I want to be my own Easter Bunny. I want to have faith in what’s most difficult to have faith in: Myself.
I’m going to post this before I erase it because I’m in a strange mood and don’t quite know what’s making me feel so … I don’t have a word for it. If I sound like a rambling lunatic, I apologize.