Treasures from a littler you

I could only fly when no one was looking, and not for very long. But when I was alone in the house, if I wore my favorite Peter Pan outfit, I could glide down the staircase silently, hovering gently a few inches above the floorboards. 

I also knew how to climb high into a tree, waaaay above the roof of the house, and feel the breeze swaying me and the ever-narrowing tree trunk and my fingertips covered with sap. My muscles were strong with the feeling of having run and leaped and clung to the lower branches.

And, when I would see a kid crying on the playground at school, I could lead them over to the swings and lie on the ground under the swingset and pretend that the kid had knocked me over when they swung above my head, making them shout with laughter at my antics. 

That wiry, little, strong, funny, imaginative girl still lives inside of me. I can count on her wisdom and innocence. In the rush of the adult world of responsibilities, overwhelm, and fatigue, she can be easy to forget. But I've learned to care for her and ask her opinion on things. 

What about you? What magical superpowers did you once possess? 

You can connect with the wisdom of younger you by finding a favorite photograph or clearly-held memory. Sitting in a relaxed position, you can give that little one a nice hug and a cuddle and ask her what she'd say about that difficult conundrum you've been ruminating on. 

She might just know what's true. What's yours. What you love. What makes your heart ache with longing. And she might appreciate knowing that you remember her, value her, and will always keep her safe. That her opinions matter, and that it's important to you to see the world with her childlike wonder. 

What happens when you give yourself permission to be as wise as a smaller, more laughter-filled, and playful part of you?

With great love,