September 20, 2011 by k. liz
And we were best friends. Even his older brother was really cool. And we always did everything together. I thought we would get married. It didn’t even matter if I was hurt or sick, he would take care of me, and then we had to move away. I thought I’d never get over it. His name was Skye. (Insert mom and sister dying laughing here.)
As a child I was probably just about the worst you’d find for getting completely and totally lost in my imagination. If I wasn’t getting in trouble for talking to much, then I just didn’t say a word for hours. I’d be in a completely different place, a different lifetime, difference circumstances. I might have slightly overworked my imagination. To prove this to you, I will tell you that as a Christian, I struggled for a long time with my playing with my imagination being a sin. You laugh, but I couldn’t sit through a church service, or listen to people have a conversation in front of me without zoning out and visiting my other world. I had a rotation of stories that I would go through in my head, and I when one got boring I would move on to the next. I’m sure there were times my mom loved it. It would keep me quiet in the car, until I had that one odd question about what it was like to go through chemotherapy, or whether or not a deaf and mute baby could cry. I would also happily clean the bathrooms or vacuum the house to have time when I didn’t have to consciously think of other things so I could imagine.
Why am I writing all of this? Because I still do it. I have been stuck in so many Turkish meetings lately, that I’ve been reverting to my imagining days. (Although, I don’t know if I can say revert, because I don’t know if I ever actually stopped.) When I lay down to go to sleep at night, almost invariably I will work through a story. I find it is the easiest way for me to go to sleep, especially if I am not tired.
But, I’m wondering now, what does all of this imagination exercise do for me? Is it beneficial to my life in any way? I used to claim that of course it was beneficial. I was putting myself through different circumstances in my head, and that way I’d be able to relate to people better in real life! I don’t believe that any more. But, I do still think that using my imagination has been beneficial for me. I think that in the teaching profession, imagination and creativity are vital skills to have a successful classroom. I’m hoping that somewhere in my head I have been exercising some vital muscle that will allow me to remain youthful longer, to not get overwhelmed by the cares and stresses of life. I’m hoping that those stories will give me hours of playtime with my kids, and pages of stories in books to come. I’m hoping that everything I do in my life will be colorful and exciting because of that bit of imagination that I have taken such great care of.
I haven’t researched it. I haven’t even googled it. But, I’m hoping that somehow, somewhere, sometime in my life, my hours of daydreaming and storytelling to myself will make a difference somewhere for someone . . . not in my imagination.