Do you remember what it’s like to have a vivid imagination?
I’ve always had an active imagination. A simple description is enough for my mind to spin brilliant pictures, breathtaking landscapes, the fabric and texture and smell and feel of places and people I have never seen.
I’ve always thought of my imagination as “vivid.”
And then I had a child and watched her grow until she stepped over the threshold of what will be the peak of her beautiful childhood. Here at its edge, she is already exponentially more imaginative than me.
I’m on a quest to rediscover my imagination.
I used to long, to pray for, to forcefully daydream that I would somehow stumble on a portal – a magic wardrobe or a tesseract – a way in to those other worlds I was sure existed somewhere. Something in us desires the irresistible call of adventure and testing and overcoming.
This is why I love fantasy. Not because it’s ethereal or otherworldly. Not because it is fanciful or unrealistic. But because it calls to the deepest, most primal parts of our being – it calls us back to the beauty of childhood and to the immense weight of what it means to grow up. It points us to the True Story that has swept us all up along in it to higher and grander realms of beauty and the breathtaking sacrifices and triumphs of The Great Hero we all long to know.
Do you love fantasy? What draws you to it or repels you from it? Do you nurture your imagination? Do you feel the adventurous call of a swift sunrise? I’d love to hear your story!