Remember when you were a kid? How you thought you could be anything you wanted? How you wanted to grow up, so you could become who you aspired to be? How your curiosity knew no limits? How brave you were…
Remember how much you struggled with everything, yet you kept on pressing on. Everything felt like an adventure. Learning to walk, to talk, to write… everything was this wonderful mystery that could and had to be solved.
You knew not the meaning of the world “impossible”, you couldn’t care less what people thought of you.
The whole world was right there for the taking, wasn’t it?
But what happened? What happens to us all?
How is it that we end up having “first world problems” in a world where many are struggling to find enough water? Or to eat? How is it that suddenly one man’s ceiling becomes another man’s floor?
How is it that the fear of failure takes such a strong hold on us? How is it when suicide becomes the second cause of death?
What happens to us along the way?
How come some can fight their way through life, and it’s most often than not the very kids who were told from the beginning they wouldn’t amount to much? How come those who have the resources, the connections, the education, the family, the friends… all this support system early on spend their lives in self-inflicted misery and chaos?
What makes one man aim for the stars while another one goes through life with his head bowed, never daring, never demanding?
How is it that some are living while others are just alive?
What is it that we lose along the way?
I remember when I was a kid. My dreams and aspiration. How I wanted to be able to talk about anything to anyone. I hated being a kid. I wanted to do grownup stuff. I wanted to know everything. Then I wanted to become a writer. And I would write and write and write, and it didn’t matter what the world told me.
And the world kept telling me that I couldn’t write, and I kept writing regardless.
There was so much hope inside me…
And it is true what they say. Hope isn’t built on mountain tops, but in the valleys below, while you are struggling to make your way to the top. You climb and you climb and you think of the view from the top, and how amazing it will be.
When do we become afraid?
When do we stop taking chances, assuming risks, going after what we want as if our lives depend on it?
When do we stop to believe in love, in kindness, in the magic that resides within ourselves and those around us?
When do we decide that it is better to crawl through life, rather than fly?
When do we let others clip our wings? Or do we do it to ourselves, out of fear of falling?
Why is it that at a certain age we begin to smile cynically at those who dream big dreams, at such as expressions as “leap of faith.”
When do we decide that we’ll never be great and settle for mediocrity?
When do we decide it’s best to admire greatness achieved through hard work and call it talent.
When do we start using “if” far more often than “when?”