As a very young child.
I never accepted.
That toys can’t fly.
I used my imagination instead.
Imagination.
I’d pick up a toy.
With my little hand.
And an outstretched arm.
And one achy shoulder.
And I’d lock my eyes on the scaled down aeroplane.
Or rocket.
Or Pterodactyl.
For hours.
Because I never accepted that toys can’t fly.
Vision.
My eyes edited out my hand as it supported the tiny aeroplane’s flight.
And my young mind edited in the clouds.
And the engine noise.
And the other aeroplanes that were chasing me.
At four years old I was good at visualising.
At four years old I was good at focusing.
And at four years old.
You were great at this kind of thing too.
Toys Can’t Fly.
So why is it that.
As adults.
Such fanciful ideas – born from visualisation and focus – are harder to muster for most people?
You see, I am still imagining.
And just as I edited out the hand that held the aeroplane as a child.
I edit out negativity.
And naysayers.
And all the other things that can potentially hold me back.
Age.
Strangely.
It’s a bit harder to believe at 51 years old.
Harder than it was when I was 4 years old.
But it’s just as magical.
And that’s why I do it.
2 Comments
You have no idea how important it was for me to read this today.
Thanks buddy.
I am pleased.
M.