Suspending disbelief
I was struck by the fact that I hadn’t been awed in a while. Did that mean awesome things had disappeared from my life? No. What it did mean was that I’d gotten too caught up in distractions and mind mucking to recognize anything as awe-inspiring. . . . I hadn’t been paying attention to the beauty around me.
Sue Patton Thoele
When I was a young teenager, my best friend and I would get up early and spend a whole day at the shopping centre. We had almost no money but we filled up an entire day and had a lot of fun.
We’d dress up and make flirty eye contact with the boys and sometimes even talk to them. We’d go to the movies and eat buckets of sweets. We’d visit every store, try on things we couldn’t afford and listen to the music store headphones. Then at the end of the day, we’d see how much money we had and then buy one or two things we couldn’t live without (or even put them on layby!).
It was exciting because each outfit or song had the unlimited potential of who we’d meet and what we’d be doing.
Now when I walk into a shopping centre, I see people pushing past each other and clutching their pointless goods. I can afford most things but when I look at them, all I see is clothes I don’t fit into and narratives I can’t relate to.
I got old in my head somewhere along the way. I’ve forgotten how to suspend my disbelief and cynicism. I’ve forgotten how to make up stories about who I might be, discarding some but treasuring others.
That kind of silliness and elastic self is better than being disparaging and stuck. Fantasies don’t have to be real or come true.
The point is that they might.
Muchness 