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Border
I love crossing borders! Seriously! I wrote in a previous blog about “silliness” with little ones. I cross that border into ridiculous fun, and quite enjoy myself. I know many look sideways at me, but what the hell! You only live once, and if you can’t cross the border every now and again, well, life would be dull and flat!
I simply can’t imagine living without imagination either. It’s crossing another border into a realm of make believe , pretend and bringing possibilities to life. When you think of all the great horror movies out there, it’s a what if scenario, imagine if nightmares could become reality. Stephen King is a prime example.
However, I personally believe one of the best at crossing over borders, was Alfred Hitchcock. He didn’t explain, he suggested, and left it up to your imagination to fill in the blanks, which as it turns out, is far more terrifying since your imagination was free to cross borders and fill in whatever it chose as a suitable ending or possibility.
Borders can keep us safe, suggesting areas that are dangerous to cross, it’s true. For the most part, borders are imaginary lines on maps or in our mind therefore some borders are fun to stretch.
I often imagine borders like elastic bands. When you stretch them a little, you bounce back to where you once were, while at other times, you struggle harder push further and the resultant bounce back sends you flying past where you started. Good or bad, there are occasions where stretching the border is definitely worthwhile.
Daring
I was playing with the older of my grandchildren, now 15 and 14 when they were small, perhaps 3 and 2. They had some friends visiting, and as usual, when around wee ones, I do silly things, things that entertain two and three year olds. It was amusing that one of their friends turned and looking me quite seriously in the eye said, “you’re crazy” while the other little visitor said, “your silly”. Two of the greatest compliments I could have received. My response, “come on over, it’s a great deal of fun over here”.
It struck me, quite forcefully, that even at this tender age, they were regimented into believing there was only one way for adults to act. Adults were serious, and acted “appropriately”. That wouldn’t fit in my world, still doesn’t. Probably never will.
I’m not talking about “talking down” to little people. I’m referring to silly lighthearted, ooey goooey goodness, fun! Mucking about with all the goo they love so much, play dough, that new goo you can make at home, slime, making silly faces, telling sillier stories, joking, playing hide and seek with a paper napkin because it’s there, dancing with a mop, making funny hats to wear, like that.
I realized at that moment, that even with little ones, you have to be daring. Dare to be different, dare to let your guard down, dare to have fun, just play, be seen as different.
In a society that expect propriety in all things, and that has become too serious, and so easily offended by every damn thing, I realize we’ve lost perspective on what is real, pure, honest and focus too much on the ridiculous and immaterial.
It’s not our job to police everyone and everything said, it’s our responsibility to be daring, bold, full of excitement and effervescence and have some fun. Dare to be different! Dare to play outside the box. Dare to have fun! At least once in awhile. 🙂
Covert Novelist 