November 28, 2006

Place, Childhood, Wonder

 

As a child, I was a loud, boisterous, outgoing, tomboy; the only thing I cared about was making sure to beat my younger brother in whatever we were doing and annoy my older sister as much as possible. Then grades, scores, competition, societal etiquette, boys, relationships, and an innumerable list of other complexities come with age. But even though we grow up, that doesn’t have to mean we necessarily lose who we were as children. It happens because we often think it should happen. We think that there’s a certain way that we should change and develop; that suddenly, it’s immature or inappropriate for a college student to touch and play with everything around him (Brad). But maybe, we lose our sense of childhood because we think we’re supposed to; because that’s what’s supposed to happen when we mature.

 

 

What is this idea of “maturity”? When the government says that you are old enough and wise enough to help make decisions that may change the way your country is run? The first time you have a serious relationship? When you go to college? Graduate from college? Get your first job? I don’t think maturity can be defined by any universal milestone. Maturity is not necessarily losing your sense of childhood innocence and carefreeness; in fact, I think the most mature are those who are able to take on the real world, while still retaining the child within. Maturing is unique to each and every person; it is a lifelong progression, “a continuity, a renewal of relationship with nature as process” as your thoughts continue to evolve and change with time and experience (Cobb, Bump 713).

 

At first, the transition to college was much tougher than I had expected. I was so homesick, calling my family every night and wanting to be home  more than anything. But eventually I adapted to my new environment and got a little more used to college. And yet, I still find myself pining for home. This thanksgiving break at home was absolute bliss. I let go, relaxed, and became my childhood self again, without a care about school or friends or grades or anything at all. But I realized that it’s not necessarily the place of my house or of Katy; it home. It’s being with my family who loves me unconditionally and puts up with me no matter what. Home is wherever I feel that sense of liberation from myself, that place or with the people that I can let my guard down and be myself. I still don’t feel like college is home. To me, college is still school and home is with my family in Katy. But maybe I just haven’t found people or a place on campus where I can let my guard down and let myself go. Right there is the loss of childhood: fear. When we begin the fear the world, society, judgment, vulnerability. As children, we are carefree because we have no fear; we trust and have faith because we have no reason not to. Humans are interdependent and rely on relationships for the any sort of evolution. Therefore, trust is instinct to children; growing up and experiencing that “discontinuity of instinct” creates that fear and subsequent loss of the child within us (Cobb, Bump 715). As we experience the world, we feel pain, become hurt and lose faith in ourselves and society; we fear tomorrow’s outcomes. At least that’s my loss of childhood.