Touch base with you at twelve

There's wisdom there

A friend recently posted a video montage in honor of her birthday. Scenes from her life moved across the screen, interspersed with thoughts about living life to the fullest, the way she did as a child.

Her 50-something birthday had gifted this beautiful human the remembrance of her essential self, the one in touch with the things that uniquely bring her joy; the one that feels connected to trees and dogs and old people; the one that still feels the wonder of being 12-years-old, on the verge of everything, but still childlike.

The gist of her message was that she has consciously chosen to live closer to the things and the people she loves. She is remembering who she is at the deepest level.

Who were you before the world left its mark? Before people started expecting you to be a certain way?

So, let’s all channel our inner 12-year-olds. There’s wisdom there. The phrase authentic self comes to mind.

This is not as easy as it sounds, because it requires you to get quiet and go deep inside to remember what it felt like to be you at that fresh, curious, age.

It requires softening the edges of memories, and opening internal boxes that were squirreled away for safe keeping long ago.

You cannot find your essential self with your head. The knowing comes from the heart. It waits in the body, like a flower under the snow.

Take some time to get quiet, just you and you. Take a few deep breaths. Let yourself go to your center. Allow questions like the ones below seep in.

What were your favorite things at age 12?

Who did you love?

What were your dreams for high school? For adulthood?

What felt like play?

Even if you had already experienced some trauma, what still put the zing in your step?

What did you do when no one was watching?

Here is some of what I remembered:

I loved the smell of libraries and book stores. I loved reading in my little bedroom with the flowered wallpaper.

I was happy alone—maybe most happy alone.

I loved horses—brushing them, smelling them, riding them—everything about them.

I loved playing tennis, first hitting against an outside wall of my house, then with anyone who would play, including doubles with my dad and his friends.

I felt a kinship with the moon and stars and sunsets, before anyone told me anything about them, before anyone pointed them out.

I climbed trees, and wished for a tree house.

I worried when it was really cold outside, because my dad’s hunting dogs suffered. I snuck extra blankets out to their houses.

I loved when I had the house to myself and could play my parent’s vinyl very loud and dance with abandon, sometimes with a pink sponge roller as a microphone.

I felt the tug of the Holy Spirit in my heart at age 12, at First Baptist Church in Walnut Ridge, AR, at a revival.

What I find interesting and comforting as I look back, is that all the same sparks are still there, playing out in my life.

What about you?

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