Listening to: Okay, remember, I loved this song when I was really, really little... (And oh, my, those jeans!)
Bliss: Marcy was a bit too dizzy (from weather changes) yesterday to go to work so I had her home unexpectedly. YAY. Last night, writing group read the end of my book. Writing that sentence makes my stomach flip.
Think of this as an archaeological dig of some of your earlier memories...
By the time I was six years old, I had already been altered by fear. That little girl with short hair, wearing her favorite plaid jacket to kindergarten was different from the baby she had been born to be.
What does Dr. Phil say to parents? Every time you yell in front of a child, you are changing who they were meant to be.
And so I was changed. But...
But over time, I have, through yoga and writing and talking and crying and yelling and thinking and making lists and remembering, I have managed, I think, to come to an understanding of that little girl.
She was born curious. She was born to laugh easily. She was born with an innate physical response to music. She was born, obviously, brave and wanting to help others.
When I was about six, I had favorite things, I had things I loved to do.
I had this record player (or one very like it). I would lie on the floor and listen to the same song over and over...never getting bored.
I lived on a Naval Base and was told that the water was so deep that even if you could swim, you would drown if you fell in. I would ride my bike along the skinny edge, with the water mere inches away. Deep and so black. I was not afraid.
In school, for a collage art project, I was able to combine two things I loved. I created a colorful piece about the ballerina Anna Pavlova.
I have hit someone in my life only two times. The first time, I was sitting in kindergarten and a little girl would not share a toy with a little boy. I told her she should. She started yelling. I slapped her. The second time, not long after, my friend would not let my sister play along. Justice was a big deal to me. (I've never hit anyone since.)
I was sitting in class and we were being taught basic reading. I was bored. Everyone was too slow. I turned to the class aid and told her I would much rather be at home, playing alone with my new tea set. She laughed. I scowled.
I loved to question, though my mother did not like this about me. I asked her how I knew I was me. She sent me to my room.
I remember sitting outside the kitchen at my Great Aunt's house and just singing whatever words came into my head. When I stopped, my Great Aunt yelled for me to continue. My heart leapt with joy at her request.
That is just a sample, of course, but my life is all right there.
There are so many clues from the beginning about my bliss.
Life experience changes us. We become disconnected from our most basic instincts. People start asking us what we want to be when we grow up.
I wanted to say, "I want to be a singer, dancer, and writer," but the few times I tried, people would do what people do.
I got the message, and I have spent many years lost, trying to find my way back, ever since.
So, that's this week's assignment.
Tell us what you were like when you were about six.
Would that little girl be happy with your life now?
(Remember to Mister Linky or just leave a comment as usual.)