Tag Archives: play

Grow up? Why?

I won’t grow up,

I don’t want to go to school.

Just to learn to be a parrot,

And recite a silly rule.

If growing up means

It would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree,

I’ll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up

Not me!

– From “Peter Pan” (Jule Styne/ Carolyn Leigh/Mark “Moose” Charlap)

Do we really have to grow up? Is it a good thing? What does it actually mean, to “grow up?”

If it means taking responsibility for everything, carrying everything on our shoulders, making sure we discipline ourselves to a schedule every day and “act like an adult” (whatever that means), then I think I’m with Peter.

Once we believe that everything comes down to us—our decisions, our actions, our behavior, etc.—we’ve already put ourselves into a tight little box. Boxes are dark inside, which means that the light can’t get in.

Remember when we were little kids? What did we do? We played. Yep, and it was serious business, too. But not the way we think of serious business as so-called adults. We were curious, eager, filled with wonder, ready to try something new, generally unafraid, and ready to have fun. But as time went by, all of that changed…

“You’re gown up now…it’s time to act your age! What are you going to do with the rest of your life?” If we didn’t have some kind of schedule worked out to the grave, then we were judged as irresponsible, immature, even lazy.

I ask you: Where’s the fun in that?

Recently I’ve had the eye-opening experience of becoming more like a little child, just trusting that my spiritual intuition will lead me rather than my human reasoning, and guess what? Not only am I a lot happier and more relaxed, I’m actually getting a lot more done—and having more fun doing it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HJ8nPYSNobg

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Winter in Connecticut

Every now and then I remember what it was like growing up in Connecticut, and what the winters were like back then, in the late 40s and the 50s. I now have what could almost be described as an aversion to cold weather (even Rio winters seem cold to me!), so it’s hard to recall why I loved the winters in New England so much when I was a kid. But I’ll give it a shot…

I can remember playing out in the snow with my sister Bertie until our gloves and even our socks inside our boots were wet, soggy and freezing. Our yard had two hills, so we spent a lot of time sliding down them on sleds, wooden skis with single straps, or pieces of cardboard. We’d build snowmen, have snowball fights, and when the snow was really deep with a hard crust on top, we’d dig tunnels underneath and hide. Or we’d try to walk on top of the hard crust, even though we’d usually slip and slide around or one foot would break through the crust and we’d fall down on our fannies.

 And was there ever snow in Connecticut back in those days! All winter long there would be at least a foot of it covering our yard, and Pop would have to carve out a path with a snow shovel all the way from the house up to our barn, where the car was parked…poor Pop! But the two of us couldn’t wait to get outside in the snow to play. And when we knew it was time to go back inside, either because our socks and gloves were too wet, or because Ma was calling us to come in, we’d rush into the kitchen, peel off our outdoor clothes and hang them in the furnace room, and then warm ourselves by the Franklin stove in the living room with cups of hot cocoa.

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