Hello, Inner Child!

Anabel J. Britanico

Summer was the best season for me as a child. I didn't grow up in a girl's palace. I have embraced
some manly adventures since I was young. I would wake up late and grope for my pellet gun
underneath my bed. I didn’t bother to comb my hair nor wash my face. I was up for the day simply
because it was something new. And all beginnings are exciting. I would play basketball until the sun
is at its summit. I didn’t care about my complexion. I was not even sure how I smelled. I was playing
simply because it was fun and challenging. I would roam around every street with my bicycle. I
would climb the trees. I would touch it, feel it, memorize it – every curve, every warp, every twig. I
would touch the ground. I would make a variety to clay figures and bake them under the settling
sun of subtle scourges. I would gather weird-shaped stones from the nearing stream, catch little
fishes or dragonflies. I would run as fast as I could before dusk and tell everyone about my day’s
adventure. Summer for me, then, was days spent outside with the memories of humid air and sun’s
rays.

My major heart break, then, was being told that summer was over.

As I’ve gone through many summers until reaching this age of 23, those experiences have become
metaphors of the early adult life that I am now taking. It’s fun doing the work of which essence’s are
evident. But there are many days in this adult life that brings back the feeling of being told that
summer is over when my heart was still yearning to spend days with the sun. There are many
things in adult life that lack the sense of glee of a childhood adventure. There are many things in
this stage that make me want to reawaken my inner child. I know you have your own summer
venture story. And if you feel the same, I invite you, let’s dare ourselves to let the child in us have a
voice again, have a touch again, have a life again.

CLIMB a tree or a hill or that long staircase. Forget about the elevator. Climb like a child.
This teaches us focus. You’ve probably drawn a hundred trees, but how many have you climbed?
You’ve probably dreamed of hiking or trekking, but how many have you dared to fulfill? As a child,
we were fearless. We were very sure as we headed up, up and up. Remember the many times you
almost fell but never gave up? Our eyes, then, were fixed on the things that are on top. We were not
used to settling for less. We allow ourselves to dream tall. We focused on what was above than what
we had at hand. What happened to us? Let’s dare ourselves to let go of our reservations. Let’s
commit ourselves to climb.

COLOR! Grab a paper. Borrow some coloring materials. You know you’ve always wanted to
do this.
This teaches us creativity. You’ve probably become used to writing in black pens, typing in
keyboard, making your paper a monochrome of highlighter, but when was the last time you held a
crayon, a pastel or watercolor? Remember the times you were proud of your artwork? Let’s stop
comparing. Let’s start exploring beyond the usual solutions. Let’s commit ourselves to put on some
color.

MEMORIZE a new song.

This teaches us, well, memory. You’ve probably been playing some songs in your head before
reading this blog, but how much of its lyrics have you savored? Have you ever appreciated its
second verse? As a child, we were very particular of songs. We sing in loop before going to sleep just
to make sure our words are right. We even used to write them down. Until adult life allowed us to
eat the words we’re not sure of and hum on those we don’t even understand. I’ve been singing and
trying to memorize the song Beneath your Beautiful the past days. How about you? Let’s strengthen
our memory. Let’s find a good song and commit ourselves truly sing its words from the heart.

You tell all the boys "No"

Makes you feel good, yeah.
I know you're out of my league
But that won't scare me away, oh, no

You've carried on so long,

You couldn't stop if you tried it.
You've built your wall so high
That no one could climb it,
But I'm gonna try

Would you let me see beneath your beautiful?

Would you let me see beneath your perfect?

Don't jog; RUN. Do it as fast as you can.

This teaches us more than speed. This teaches us alertness. You’ve probably jogged for a good
cardio exercise or to lose some fats, but when was the last time you ever run merely for the sake of
running? As a child, we were faster than our Dad’s wheels. We were more present than the moon.
We could shout louder than airplanes. We believed in ourselves. We knew when to compete. We
made wise choices of our battles. We knew which ones we could defeat and which ones we couldn’t.
And we knew that we would learn new techniques either way. Remember the times you ran side by
side with a bicycle and pretended you could go faster even when you were sure you couldn’t? We
used to know when to move or rather, we at least knew when we wanted to move. We knew which
gestures would be dangerous. We were watchful. We were thoughtful, a bit careless but
undoubtedly joyful. Let’s free ourselves from second thoughts. Run. Even if it means just taking the
treadmill let’s commit ourselves to run at least a hundred meter.

TOUCH THE GROUND. Just do it.

This teaches us humility. You’ve probably spent an ample time dusting the dirt off your table, but
when was the last time you befriended some earth? I don’t have a lot of say about why I think you
should do this, but I really think you should. As a child, our pride was low. We were not as exacting
as we are now. No gesture was “so not us”. We did things for delight, not for facebook or instagram.
Let’s place our bare hands on the ground and commit ourselves to do it simply because it’s not too
much to ask from us anyway.

Leo Rosten said, “You can understand people better if you look at them – no matter how old or
impressive they may be – as if they are children. For most of us never mature; we simply grow
taller.” All of us have an inner child inside, longing to be heard. From time to time, let us allow it to
speak. Let us allow it to take us to the many memories and learning of summer. Let us allow it to
take control and teach us things we used to know so well. Let us greet it with delight, “Hello, inner
child!”