The Child Must Survive
Why should we lose the child, the one that questions everything, says the most random things at the most inopportune times, and has no limits for imagination? This is a gift, and the child must survive.
"When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful
A miracle, oh, it was beautiful, magical
And all the birds in the trees, well, they'd be singing so happily
Oh, joyfully, oh, playfully watching me
But then they sent me away to teach me how to be sensible
Logical, oh, responsible, practical
And then they showed me a world where I could be so dependable
Oh, clinical, oh, intellectual, cynical" - Supertramp
I have been thinking back to my childhood for the last few weeks. Well, more so than usual. I have been thinking back to when I was a kid, running around, causing ruckuses, making my parents' lives a living hell, all the while thinking that they were making mine one. After one memorably (emotionally) violent encounter with my father, I remember saying to him, "I can't wait until I'm old enough to do what I want and not have to listen to you." I remember his response. "When you get there, you will want this back." I remember this because it was a constant want throughout my life. I just wanted to skip childhood and be...a grown-up. I wanted to have my own money, my own friends, my own...autonomy. I hated that I always depended on my parents and other elders. And, I hated that I always needed their approval for anything. As a kid under his parents' roof, my life seemed so controlled by external forces. My life growing up felt like a poorly choreographed routine, thrown haphazardly by people who were not trained at it, and by sheer luck, kept getting away with it. I remember constantly saying to myself that once I got older and had power over my life, it would be different. I told myself that it would be more fun, more interesting, more full of...life.
That is what I have been reminiscing about recently. I am not a child anymore. This website itself can be a proof of how much of an adult I am. I pay to host this space, I spent time building this space, and now, I contribute to this space. That is all because I am no longer a child, and can direct my energy where I want to. So, there are benefits to being a grown-up, for sure. My life has taken a (fairly) conventional journey from a tantrum throwing child to a responsible, rational adult; and it has been a good life so far that I am constantly grateful for. And yet, I think back to what my father said back then, and I realize the truth in his words. He was speaking from his experience. Sure, I do have much more control and autonomy over my life now than I did back then - more money, more freedom, more friends. And yet, life hasn't become the consistently great, joyful odyssey that I thought it would be. It surely hasn't been full of...life. On my journey from a child to an adult, I have gained degrees and diplomas, cars and possessions, and visa stamps from travels and experiences. On the same journey, I have also lost moments of spontaneity, sparks of joy, feelings of freedom, and the sense of wonder that I had in spades back then. Throughout this time, experiences have come from first loves and heartbreaks, bouts of euphoria and depression, and fumbling through searches for a greater purpose. Now, I am measured about the things I say, the clothes I wear, and the impressions I make on others. The consequence of failing seems too dire, too big of a gamble. At this point, I suppose I have built up enough knowledge to know how to blend in and live responsibly. While this knowledge has helped me get this far in life, and I am grateful for it, it also is a little heartbreaking (and darkly humorous) that this repertoire does not include the one thing I never thought I would want as a child - how to feel like a child again. In the process of learning to avoid getting bumps and bruises, I realize that I have suppressed the best parts of being a human- the feelings and emotions of riding a bike for the first time, falling face first running down the stairs, and running in the dark chasing after my sister as we play hide and seek. I have become emotionally stable and predictable, at the cost of losing unbridled joy, sheer passion, and a face full of expressions.
Towards the end of my time in the Bay Area, I met a friend, Imari. At the time, he was a film director and was making some interesting short films for his production company called Surviving Child. I asked him about the name, and his response was that as we get older, we accumulate experiences, and these experiences help us shed the child and the childlike qualities, so that the adult can grow and be a contributing member of society. He didn't like the idea of losing the child. "Why should we lose the child?" he said. "The child is the one that questions everything, says the most random things at the most inopportune times, and has no limits for imagination? This is a gift, and the child must survive." I didn't think much of it at the time, besides marvelling at the possibility of his brand and how lucky he was for snatching that domain. Now, as I have lived a little more and have noticed when my apathy begins to show, I understand how important it is for the child to survive. Without the surviving child, this life is routine and bland. Without the surviving child, this life lacks awe, inspiration, and wonder - key foundations for a life well lived.
I know I am not the only one going through these withdrawals of lost times and innocence. As evidenced by the lyrics I copied from The Logical Song, Supertramp sang about it, as did Trace Adkins. Still, not many people I know openly share these ideas and have these conversations. Not at parties, not at the beach (I still think of Venice even though I am in Canada now), not on the phone. Maybe this is a part of that adulting business where we do not want to come across as a downer or a thinker to others. In the process of trying to the ultimate grown-up, I think we sometimes lose out on being the ultimate human.
How do you all do it? Does this not come up for you? Do you not want to be just a child again sometimes, and not worry about having to pay all the bills? Or not be afraid of saying potentially the wrong thing? Or be able to ask a question without worrying if it's dumb beforehand? How is that child surviving for you? Is the child...surviving?
Maybe I should do now what I didn't do back then. Maybe I should listen to my father's advice from back then. Which is to enjoy the present...
Just with a bit more wonder, a bit more awe, a bit more like the child I once was.
