Posted by on Oct 15, 2011 in Photographs, Sacred Experiences | 0 comments

Who else remembers those special times as a child when your imagination ran wild? The unicorns in the closet, beautiful fairies playing peek-a-boo under toadstools and don’t forget, the scary monster who lived under the bed. And what about that handsome prince I spent hours and hours rescuing? A warrior queen’s job is never done. I visited far away exotic islands accompanied by my dolls without ever leaving my quiet, little bedroom. That huge granite rock in the backyard . . . not a rock at all, but my parapet on the castle wall. I remember, oh yes . . . I remember those special times spent with only my imagination to keep me company.

What happens to us when we grow up? Do we tuck our imagination in a little drawer hidden away? Banish it to a cage inside our head? Clip its wings until it cannot fly? Does it disappear for good? I’m truly one of the lucky ones. My imagination still visits me now and then. The monster under the bed looks much kinder and gentler and he’s so much smaller now. In fact, at times, he resembles the mutant dust bunnies running rampant down my hallway.

Ah . . . imagination, may you never leave me.

~J.K. Ingersoll


She was focused on her artistry, this child of innocence and grace. I watched as she covered her sidewalk canvas with a multitude of pictures. This week, she chose pink chalk. Last week, blue and yellow artwork danced across the sidewalk.

My mind flew back to simpler times when I drew my own pictures onto the sidewalk in front of our house. When finished, I would run inside to grab Mom’s hand and pull her towards my work. I was so afraid of someone smudging my artistry before she gave her words of approval.

As I walked away from this free spirit, her task still captivated her attention. Wistfully, I tried to recapture those times when my mind flew free within my own imagination. The ordinary days of childhood seem so far away now. I didn’t know then how sacred they were, how filled with innocent joy. Silently, I thanked the child for reminding me how simple it is to go within and draw with abandon. Perhaps I shall buy some chalk or crayons and see if I can capture pictures as elegantly as she.

 ~Cathy Chapman




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