I've recently been trying to get back to that little boy's ways. 

Funny how we spend our younger years just trying to bust out and be free; and then spend our maturing years just wanting to go back!

I have been going through some things - as most of us do from time to time - and I find myself searching for something. I am constantly on guard waiting for permission, or a sign. I have noticed that for the past few years I find myself searching for nothing. I spend all of my energy striving for an unseen, unheard, unknowable state of being. Convinced that if I could just stretch myself far enough, or shake myself up to the point that all of my inhibitors shatter; then I will finally be able to be the person I was meant to be. But I have no idea what that ideal state even looks like or feels like. 

We all build walls, some short and easily scalable and some so thick that you wonder if anything still lives behind them. I can only speak to my walls, and they are not thick nor sturdy. My walls are so tall that even the stars can't peek behind them. If you come at them from the side, you can knock them down easily. The trouble is most people would rather try the climb. 

When I was a child I remember being so loving and joyous. Everything was a surprise and a delight. Even something as simple as peanut butter on my pop tarts. Somewhere along the line I lost touch with that loving, simple part of myself. I no longer feel the spark of delight. That burst of warm fuzzies when I hug a friend, or a pup, or Teddy Buttoneyes just isn't as easy as it should be. 

Maybe that is what I am searching for - reveling in the pure joy that is life. Magnificent flora, fascinating fauna and all of the beautiful things my collective has created all pulsing and vibrating and living and dying and doing exactly what they were made to do. I want to be like that little boy again because I already am. I just have to wake him up and tell him, "Cartoons are on!" That one always worked.