Freedom in Play and Imagination

I am addicted like a moth to light to those moments of FLOW between people, when insight and connection come together as freely as rain falling.

My children played well when children. They built forts out of blankets and pillows, upturning sofas and chairs, making a mess of the house. It didn’t matter. Their creativity and freedom made me happy and it was easy to make them happy this way. They worked together, linking imaginations through interior tunnels that had few words. This is how they loved each other.

I wonder where freedom goes. As my children grow older, I find myself missing their childhood freedom. No longer can we whimsically float down the wide river of play and imagination. There was school yanking us to shore, to a reality I could not control. School gave my children what I couldn’t, the chance to become socialized. They needed to maneuver on their own. Their ability to be with other children gave them another kind of freedom, the freedom in friendship. But school is a demanding taskmaster and the freedom of play and imagination is not usually welcome.

An ambulance wails in the distance and then stops. The breeze is soft alongside constant noise. Silence is nowhere. Cars and trucks rattle, doors slam, engines ignite, horns quip and a police car passes by. Beneath the pulsating city music are birds. They are everywhere.

You can get use to anything. Our minds are plastic. Only through intention do we create a mind that belongs to our self, otherwise our mind becomes the putty of noise, to be haphazardly shaped by dings and knocks. But when we know we have choice, choice to listen to what we want, to birds instead of sirens, to play and imagine instead of responding only to the rude jerk of school and other taskmasters, then we begin to shape ourselves intentionally, then we begin to pursue the freedom within us.

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