Not Letting Inner Child Feel like an Orphan
Abandoned Inner Child
More often than I care to remember, my natural curiosity would prompt me to take a peek into others' inner world -- only to bring me to that moment of a regret. Indeed, how many times I wished I had been a simpleton going through life clueless, "seeing no evil, and hearing no evil", after seeing what I saw.
But then, "evil" it was not. Rather something as basic as a lack of self-appreciation, self-acceptance, self-love...call it any name, but it gets displayed by this drifting between two fixes of either chemical crutches, or sex, or overcompensation with amassing material consolations, or that machismo crap.
Like curled in the dark and cold corner of soul is an abandoned inner child, that newcomer in this world, whose little heart keeps loving in vain, dreaming in vain, hoping in vain -- betrayed by adulthood.
I keep seeing them everywhere. On my last vacation, I saw those tourist groups with eyes as if expecting their guide to finally say something that would justify that escape from their life's routine.
Or those shoppers at big malls pushing their carts filled with duplicates of what they already have, aimlessly wandering between aisles like lost puppies, as if hoping to fill that inner void with a feeling of a buying power.
Humans on their mission to escape into distraction from facing their inner child that's starved for some genuine love, a good hearty laughter to tears, a prolonged hug, a feeling of being at least acknowledged, if not honored.
Standing in a long lineup at a grocery store, I see those faces reacting with half-panic on someone's kid screaming. I see those eyes begging that mother "to do something" -- while they stay deaf to that inner cry for more than an artificial rubber pacifier.
Creating a Happy Playground in This World
Today I gave a call to the Super of our building, after learning about his bout with a nasty, painful sciatica. His voice could hardly mask his suffering, even intensified by anticipation of being asked to do something.
In my first sentence I told him that we didn't need anything, how I had heard about his being in pain, and offered to go to any store for him if he needed anything. His reaction filled my heart with joy, making my inner child happy and somewhat proud.
Later on I went to the Post Office to mail a small parcel to my wife's elderly sister in California with couple bags of special brand of coffee imported from our native Croatia -- with the taste that was to remind her of the "old times". The lady at the counter smiled seeing the parcel, and asked: "Coffee again?"
These little things of being recognized by so many strangers -- not in some small town where everybody knows everybody else, but in a huge city -- can give such a warm feeling of belonging. And my inner child keeps getting the joy of these encounters at every little plaza, or park, or huge shopping mall where I am frequenting. This includes all tenants in this building.
There is a chemistry, a vibe that my happy inner toddler emanates, which orchestrates a little network of similar inner toddlers who always grab an opportunity to have their moment of playfulness, humor, and warm humanness.
Another Christmas is just around the corner, and I won't criticize the commercial side of it; won't complain about the slippery roads and impaired, drunk drivers; won't even preach to you about the significance of Jesus' birthday. Hey, while mentioning Jesus -- my birthday is only three days after his, so I often half-jokingly say how the two of us are a couple of "fine Capricorns".
The Pleasure Principle
It takes so little to celebrate life, and for quite so many years now I have been doing it without any help of cigarettes, alcohol, coffee, rich foods, and a company of those with the same partying style.
I wish I knew some better words to describe that deep inner joy which doesn't need any props, any extra favorable life circumstances, an impressive home, car, or a social status. With a glimpse of Donald Trump's tight and frowning face on the TV news, almost a regular thought rushes through my mind about his wasting his time with politics, while not simply enjoying those billions -- well, if he really has them.
So, I think, how empty and starving for love an inner child must be to need a power, after already having all conditions to enjoy every super-toy, see the world, have relaxed and playful style of life. Well, to each their own, but I could bet that with my mental discipline and cultivated capacity for happiness, my average day is much more rewarding than his.
Besides, I am one year older than he, but in a better physical shape. Isn't it interesting how the most of the people reading this will think: "Yes, but he is more successful and rich." And to them I may say: "Yes, but with all his billions he can't buy what I have -- starting with peace of mind, and the list could go on and on". For ultimately, we all live driven by the universal pleasure principle -- and what's the pleasure of power and money if a person lacks the capacity to enjoy it?
Which always brings us back to our inner child, which we either nourish with some genuine values that he/she only understands, or bribe him/her with artificial fame which has an expiry date attached to it.
Always Something to Be Made Better
At this age, three weeks short of 75, my life feels complete -- but not without ambitions for making things even better. I may be a retiree, but not a retiree from life. For a little example, right now I am on my intermittent fasting regimen, fasting for 18 hours, with a window of 6 hours for eating anything more-less nutritious.
Come January, I will increase it to 19 or 20 hours fast, that way further increasing the process of autophagy, or drastic cellular cleansing, with an increase of growth hormones and stem cells. With all added mental practices, there will be a chain reaction leading to more psycho-physical rejuvenation and vitality.
Why is that relevant to our theme? Because my inner child obviously insists on youthfulness where he vibrationally feels more at home. In all honesty, I can't see any more noble, or life-promoting, or sensible hobby than upgrading the model of our functioning.
For, what's the use of daily getting up from bed if we have no intention to work on something that will be rewarding in a short or a long run? Why bother living, if it boils down to having same thoughts, same feelings, same attitudes -- leading us to the same doctors, same treatments, same crap, year after year?
So, here I am, looking through the same balcony window, observing the same scene out there day after day -- but seeing something different every time. Let me explain.
As we come home after a vacation, opening the front door we are facing this same interior -- and yet, with a big sigh of relief we say: "Home, sweet home". How so? For, not even a week will pass before we are tempted to call it -- again -- "life between four walls".
Well, this example is giving us a proof that we can "look" at the same thing twice but "see" it differently the second time around. Imagine if you could always see your home like in those "home, sweet home" moments.
When we were kids, our youthfulness could paint all sameness with colors of magic. But then, as we grew up, we started owing more and more to that child within. To the one that's still there, hoping, dreaming, anticipating a change, from year to year -- until one day when he/she gives up all that and starts feeling as an orphan.
Here and there I see that void in the eyes of the old folks, with that spark of inner child gone from those eyes.
I started this story by saying how I get prompted from within to observe others -- until the moment of a regret. But well, these days even that regret gets somewhat softer, maybe because of that humble admitting that I used to be there myself.
And maybe because my inner child is always searching for a playmate, and that's why I don't only observe -- but end up trying to inspire if I can.
Questions & Answers
© 2019 Vladimir Karas