Do you feel like the same person you were at the age of five? Or the same person you were at seven? I mean on the inside of course. But do you feel close to that person in that tiny body?
I was pondering this recently. The five year year old me in her bright red wellington boots is someone I am still quite impressed by. I know in some ways, she/I have had to “grow up” in a sense. Perhaps fundamentally with regards to not seeing/judging everything and everyone as black /white….good/bad….right/wrong. As I grew and learnt, I did have to become a little more reasonable than perhaps I was as a little girl.
I remember some of the things I said to others – especially adults – when I was a child. My goodness – I was cheeky – I did not know that back then of course, I was just telling them that they were bad people because they were doing something bad. That is the way I saw it.
But during my childhood, I learnt about things like forgiveness and repentance. I thought these were beautiful, but I found them hard to apply to examples of bad people I knew of. My mumma found me sitting in bed one night and saying outloud, “All you have to do is say you are sorry and really mean it, and never do bad things ever again.” When she asked me who I was talking to, apparently I told her I wanted Satan to hear me. I gave up on him when I realized just how wicked he is.
I have so much admiration for the five year old me, for the seven year old me, for the nine year old me. She was seriously switched on. She saw through the words that adults told her and questioned their motive.
I am deeply fond of her because her dreams were noble, and I know that she has steered the course of my life in so many ways. She had a dream of the way this earth should be, the way the human family should be, and her dreams were so beautiful that the woman she became has never abandoned them and still works toward them becoming a reality.
Caramel 