No, not the kind of shocking you think. As a follow-up to Wednesday’s post about relearning how to have fun, I have to point you to someone else who was thinking the same thing. Cordelia (of Cordelia Calls It Quits) writes,
I used to be that peculiar kid off at the far end of the playground, singing a little song to herself on a swing while all the normal children played tag (or whatever it is that normal children do). I would imagine I was swinging directly into the trees in front of me, or directly into the sky above, and I remember it feeling so beautiful and transcendent that it “ached,” as Anne Shirley would say. It never occurred to me to worry if the other kids would think I was weird for doing it. We’d have lunch together after recess and teach each other new versions of “Miss Mary Mack,” and it would be all cool. I was me, they were them, we were friends, and life was beautiful.
I can’t tell you the last time I lost myself—forgot myself—in my surroundings like that. Only, now I can. Because I did it this weekend. And it was lovely.
If that speaks to you, be sure to click through and read the rest. It’s a fantastic story.
I’m off to try and do the same this weekend. Hope you do, too. See you back here on Monday!
