A Beautiful Little Girl

A grown up is a child with layers on. The end of childhood is when things cease to astonish us. When the world seems familiar, when one has gotten used to existence, one has become an adult. I am often accused of being childish. I prefer to interpret that as child-like. I still get wildly enthusiastic about little things. I tend to exaggerate and fantasize and embellish. I still listen to instinctual urges. I play with leaves. I skip down the street and run against the wind. I never water my garden without soaking myself. It has been after such times of joy that I have achieved my greatest creativity and produced my best work. It has been after such times of joy that I have achieved my greatest creativity and produced my best work. Creativity represents a miraculous coming together of the uninhibited energy of the child with its apparent opposite and enemy, the sense of order imposed on the disciplined adult intelligence. In my soul, I am still that small child who did not care about anything else but the beautiful colors of a rainbow. You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.

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Woman-Child reflections

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