My mind is anxious and drumming, chastising me for an inability to be positive and free at the drop of a feather. I sleep through three alarms. In my dreams I’m on a great adventure in some mystical, magical, far away land. When I roll over to answer a phone call from a friend, my voice is raspy. It sounds like I’ve been cradled in lucid, cocoon-webbed sleep for weeks.

For the last few days I’ve been missing places from home. They filled me up and broke my days into manageable bites.

My friend tells me a story about how she insisted on finding another yoga studio to mimic the one she’d lost in her move across states. Then, she realized it was the essence of yoga she missed, not necessarily the yoga itself. It was the feeling it produced in her, the same feeling she had surfing or hiking.

“What’s the experience you miss?” she asked.

If you can pinpoint the experience (the essence of what you crave), then you can recreate it wherever you are. (Tweet this)

When I think of home my mind fills with memories of afternoons. I’d close my laptop after hours of editing, drink a glass of fresh juice, throw my towel in the backyard grass, and read books in my bikini as I turned golden brown.

I looked forward to my mom’s golden van as it pulled up the long, black, concrete driveway reminding me of Easter eggs, the special gold ones holding dollar bills or coins. The van meant it was time for an afternoon break for lattes, bagels, and talking story at our favorite nearby coffee shop.

My house was a literal door swing away from fresh grass, warm sun, and a mango tree. Afternoons felt full of possibility, reminding me of being a kid and walking up to the community pool searching for coins that college kids would drop on their way to the laundry mat. The possibility of reward.

Home holds magical places like the shave ice stand, a safe space full of lazy summer afternoons, notebooks of writing, and laughter with friends while we made plans to travel the world. There was a bowl of bright shave ice with a rim of fruit décor, condensed milk, and sweet adzuki beans. “Heaven in a cup,” a friend fondly claims.

When I was young I developed the idea that children were different from adults. After you hit the line of demarcation, different rules applied.

When I unravel the beliefs I formed as a kid, they include:

• Kids are not expected to do anything huge.
• Being well behaved and getting good grades makes me good.
• It’s okay to daydream, play, and be irresponsible. People expect that of kids.
• I can use all my money for travel or fun.
• The future is thought of as a bubble of positive things that might happen. But it’s so far away.

As a kid, I lived in a fantasy world. My brother and I pretended we were stranded on an island after a plane crash, years before the storyline of LOST. We built forts, whittled spears, put on masks to swim in the small river behind our house, and held bread between our toes, laughing hysterically as the fish nibbled. Our only thought for the future was, “Are we going to have tater tots with dinner?”

We were impaled and possessed by the present moment.

Along with those childhood beliefs, I also formed a slew of beliefs about what it meant to be an adult:

• Adults have their crap together.
• People holding hands are in love.
• Being an adult comes with the stress of money, of jobs you must do, of constant chores and maintenance.
• People put aside their big dreams because life can happen differently.
• There’s always something to do.
• You are expected to achieve things and have things to show for yourself.
• Is anyone really happy, or are they kept too busy to think about it?

One day, the invisible line of demarcation was crossed and “childhood” beliefs were replaced with “adult” ones. As an adult I felt less free, but I didn’t understand why.

Our thoughts cause our suffering. If we don’t address them, we can drown in our minds. So how do we get back to the time when we were free? First, take a look at that time.

What I love about my childhood can be summed up with these prevalent things:

1.  Sun/outdoors (they expand my mind)
2. Having something to look forward to (e.g., walks to the pool)
3.  Treasure hunting (ex. searching for coins)
4.  Imagination/fantasy worlds (ex. playing end of the world games at the river.)
5.  Possibility (ex. shave ice magic places)
6.  Being impaled by the present moment

How can I incorporate those essences into my life today?

To fill the essence of treasure hunting I can:

Look for cool photos when I venture into the world, go to the thrift store, collect random things to create art, check out the sections of the grocery store I’ve never looked at, collage, make a puzzle, or explore a new part of the neighborhood.

WHAT ABOUT YOU?

Today’s curiosity challenge:

Take a few minutes to examine the beliefs you’ve constructed about being a kid vs. being an adult.

When you were little . . .

1) What did you believe about being a kid?

2) What did you believe about being an adult?

Pluck out 1- 3 things that allowed you to feel free or happy as a kid? (The Essence)

Incorporate that essence into your life now. Write down at least one thing you can do this week.

Get your essence on! When your heart and mind collide you can be unstoppable. (Tweet this)

With Love,

Z :)