Mining Thoughts of the Child
Over the years I’ve had fleeting recollections of thoughts and fears that passed through my mind as a child. They were often fragile, ill-defined and sometimes trivial-seeming, so I never dwelled on them much. But from my current vantage point, I think they’re worth pondering.
It’s impossible to quantify but it does seem like my inner self was much richer and deeper back then. It was as though my inner world was a deep blue, bottomless sea with thoughts coming from various depths and from every direction.
For example, when I was five, out of a depth extending to the far reaches of consciousness came the question:
Why was I born a human? Why am I not some kind of animal? Like, why not a cow?
While it did occur to me how unusual a thought it seemed for a four or five-year-old, I never bothered to take it any further than that.
Now it’s clear this was the voice of my soul asking the question, and at that time, I wasn’t so far removed from the “other side”, or whatever you might call it. I had a perspective I was soon to lose. One that could look deep into my being and see things I’d forget once I learned the rules of existence in this world and the norms of society.
Everyone I had contact with would help me figure out who/what I was, as well as the rules of the game. Just as I would do subsequently for members of later generations. I was given a name, I had a gender, a look, a family with good parents and a history, ethnicity and an ethnic history. The latter came with a rich variety of stories, mostly propaganda. Those stories always seemed more effective to my peers, than they were for me. Some part of me never fully bought in to them. Now that I think of it, maybe it was that same voice that had asked the questions I’ve mentioned.
Knowing what I know now, it seems a lot more constructive and conducive to Life and society for one to question the nature of being than finding puzzle parts of “self” in patriotism, ethnicity, neighborhood or home town pride.
To various degrees I had all of the above, but what I find most interesting is how much I valued mores as a young adult; as if a shared custom or familiar manner or figure of speech told me all I needed to know about someone. It’s one of many examples that show that the transition from the depths of soul-awareness to modern society left me wanting spiritually and emotionally. It makes me wish I had memories that reach back beyond the age of four.
Life really is too short.
