imagination

Here I am , sick, at home, trying to find my way back.
I believe that when we get sick its a way for the body to "shed skin", as if it's trying to purge something out of it's system. It's getting rid of the old. Getting rid of beliefs about ourselves, that we are not worthy, that we are not enough, that we are useless.
I am not useless! I refuse to believe that!
I am more that enough.
I am worthy of being here, it's my birthright.

So, lying at home having been sick for almost a week now, I began to ask myself " why won't this let go of me? What haven't I seen? What haven't I listened to?..." I took a hot shower, made a cup of tea and made it as cozy and comfortable as humanly possible in my bed. I lied down in the dark, breathing, connecting to my heart. "What are you trying to tell me?"
I felt like reading, but no, that wasn't quite it.
I hugged myself and asked my heart again. My heart replied. "Ask the child in you".
What would the child in me have wanted?
What did I do as a child when I needed comfort? What did I do then to make me feel at home in my heart, and in company? What did the child in me love?
Storytelling.
The child in me loves stories.

I started crying for myself and familiar words came out of my mouth "You were much muchier before, you've lost your muchness". Not my words, Lewis Carrolls words...
I felt afraid, like Peter Pan, responsability scares the shit out of me. I do not want to grow up, I do not want to be responsible because responsability was what took the magic away from my life.
The magic left the day I started growing up. I never ever want to go back.
I never ever want to stop wandering and marvelling at life.
I never ever want to stop loving wholeheartedly and innocently as children do.
I never ever want to stop playing and lose my imagination.