There’s some big news that few people have heard. I cannot begin to express how excited I am about it, and even more excited that I get to be the first one to report this to you!
As of yesterday… Atlantis. Has. Been. Found.
The lost city, missing for more years than I can count on my fingers, toes and tattoos has been discovered. If you ever wondered why they never discovered this fabled city, it’s because they had the ideas of its location all wrong. Dreadfully wrong. It exists, submerged in great fathoms of rarely charted waters. And I know the exact location! Granted, it’s not so much of a great depth unless you count it by millimeters. Actually, it would be really helpful if you humored me and measured the depths my micrometres or even nanometres. See, technically it was discovered in water less than half a fathom deep. In the Mediterranean Sea? No. The Atlantic Ocean? No! The Pacific? Psch. It was found by my two busy sons. In our backyard pool. In Oregon. And that’s a fact (to them anyway).
As the boys were playing in the pool, talking about their adventures to hidden, treasure-filled and undiscovered lands, I couldn’t help but wonder, at what age do we give up our imaginations? And more importantly, why? Yeah, I know we can be imaginative as adults, but we have to keep ourselves reigned in. We have to be reasonable, and try to live reality-based lives. We have to grow up. So when and what triggers the change? And is it so much a change, or a decision, a chosen reformation?
You know what I’m referring to. I’m talking about that moment in time when we realize we aren’t indestructible. That we can never be as cool as Wolverine because it’s not really possible to have our bones transformed with adamantium. That, no matter how loudly you use your Optimus Prime voice and yell, “Autobots, unite!” the yellow Camaro you’re staring at isn’t going to transform. That the web-slinging Spider-Man isn’t someone you can ever become, even if you swear you’re already in-tune with your Spidey-senses. It’s that diabolical moment you recognize that being a real life Jedi and having lightsabers that can cut through anything isn’t actually possible.
And this is the point when I yell, “STOP!!!!!” I feel like I’m speaking sacrilege. Because the kid inside of me, still hopes that there is a way. That maybe the force is strong with this one. That lasers not only correct bad vision, but are a weapon that can be shot out of eyes by Cyclops (ok, so I may be weak on some of my Marvel Comics knowledge, was it actually a laser he blasted?) That treasure can actually be found at the end of rainbows, and it’s not just made of marshmallows. That Frodo actually journeyed with the Ring to Mordor and survived. Yet I know, if I defend my absurd hopes for these things to be possible, I’ll most likely be called delusional. A few screws loose. Not the brightest star in the sky… (Which we all know is very possible. But we can leave that topic for another day, right?)
Feel free to laugh at my expense, I know I’m not the only one who has these silly wishes. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be invisible for a day? Or able to fly faster than a speeding bullet? Or actually weild a lightsaber?!
So, let’s consider this a call to action. I’m giving you a challenge. Or two, or three. I haven’t decided yet how many, you can total them later. Embrace your childhood memories. Remember being a superhero or a princess or a cowboy or a robot or something far more imaginative that I can’t think of now because my dog wont quit barking at his reflection. Remember to use your imagination, to think bigger than present circumstances. I’m not saying imagine that you can fly, glue some feathers onto your arms and jump out of a tree to prove it. (Though if you do, make sure someone captures it on video, please!) If the world is crumbling around you, embrace life anyway. Use the inner-strength you felt could enable you to conquer the world as a child and power through the rough moments. And if you have to wear a cape to do so, well… Good luck with that.
And the last challenge? Be prepared for the next time you encounter automatic doors at a store. As you approach it, reach towards it and envision using the force to open them. Then walk proudly past, declaring the force is strong with you. Because it is! And when people no longer want to make eye-contact with you and your family darts away in embarassment? Well, you didn’t get this idea from me.
When it comes to automatic doors, the force is against me. I swear. I walk up to those things and my nose practically has to hit the glass before they open. What’s up with that? Actually, I have an answer. I think I’m an alien from Asteroid B-612. You may have heard of it?
Love your imagination, your voice, your sense of humor, and most especially your sarcasm. Found you through Networked blogs on FB. Glad I did. In the words of a temporarily cyclop’ed robot with poor pronunciation …I’ll be back. 🙂
I’ve never heard of that particular Asteroid, but its name made me think of those huge vitamins that are mostly too large to swallow. Thanks for stopping by my site and not declaring me insane! (yet)