Poem: Hold on to things

We hold on to things. Memories from when we were kids playing in a sandbox, digging holes to bury our favourite toys in. Holding afternoon tea parties between chaos and stuffed animals, turning cushions into clouds, grass to pasta for us to serve to friends and family, building towers out of mud, planes out of paper, loving families made of dolls.

Taking all that's ordinary and adding a little bit of magic. 

Isn't that worth holding onto? That restless spirit, that naive mind searching for happiness and sadness, finding hope instead of giving up. That good and ever kind instinct of being scared of what's in the dark. Fearing the bad and the wrong, fleeing from monsters rather than later on inviting them in, studying them whilst not realising that - by growing up and starting to doubt, to worry, to fear, to envy - we are slowly becoming those twisted minds of evil, drifting too far from that child we once were. When we had that peace of having no expectations to fulfill, neither those of others nor those from ourselves. That peace of just dreaming without ever doubting that it will come true. We should hold on to that. 

And maybe holding on isn't even enough. We should live it. The truth that the child is in us and will always be. But what it wants from us is something we gave up on along the way. Something we let go because our own grown up minds deemed it impossible and too bold. The same minds that have shaped our dreams to burdens and our relentless will to accomplish into the pain that's haunting us of never being good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, strong enough to realize ourselves, our dreams and make it all come true. 

Our naive mission to live the life we dreamed at eight years old is now the constant facing of our failures. Not having done it yet, not pushing hard enough so much that we've closed our eyes, torn down that bridge once made of clouds, and we've accepted that it just wasn't meant to be. A foolish dream of a child that we no longer are.

We are grown ups. We fit and fold to adjust and to survive. 

So we simply hold on to the memories and say, “do you remember when we were young and knew how to dream when we were just kids?” But still we were much braver than we are now.

So I'm gonna say to my child one day, “don't let growing up get to you.” Keep that hopeful heart, that naive ever searching for kindness mind and that brave and unbroken spirit. 

For dreams exist to be followed. And lives are meant to be lived.