I remember how it was when I was free-spirited, deep and always looking for “meaning” in everyday objects.
Always wanting people to find their star.
Always turning cartwheels.
Always prophetic dreams.
Always spouting wisdom and foolishness in the same breath.
Always connecting every fleeting emotion to something with breath and fire and drowning my own grief and being reborn as a new child of the universe every morning.
thinking that being “deep” and “meaningful” and “esoteric” and “artistic” was what everyone should be.
thinking that “mundane life” was so shallow and sad.
thinking that “they just don’t GET IT, man”
Then i had kids.
And everything in me turned upside down.
The “mundane” world is no longer dull, shallow and sad to me. It’s subtle, transient and filled with bittersweet joy. Everything is so “now”. Everything is so “you” and “me” and “us” and “here”.
Everything that used to be so important is so meaningless. Everything I thought was meaningless is so full.
Every moment is so incredibly unique. For me. For them. For us.
Watching them learn the life, the universe and everything. I get to do it all again and laugh when they are “deep” and “esoteric” and love fiercely when they are “meaningful” and “artistic” as they believe they invented the world. Becuase to me, they did. They invented my new world. The one I could never see because I was too busy trying to inhabit someone elses vision, someone elses quest, someone elses judgement.
No matter how much I love my life, nothing really was ever so beautiful as when I saw it for the first time, again, with children.