Someone told me once, Lissa, you are a little girl in a big girl body. That’s such a nice complement.
I was the horse when I was little. I pulled the wagon and ate the grain out of my brother’s hand. I wasn’t pretending…I really was the horse. Even now, as an adult, when I watch an animal run, I can place myself in its body and feel the impact of hoof against the ground and the push as it lifts off to jump a fence or creek.
Years ago, my son and I would go out into the pasture when he was old enough to be alone out there. I was in my thirties and I would walk away from him and hide. Then I would call to him using bird sounds like we saw on the television. We were indians. I wasn’t playing an indian, I was back as a little girl…being one.
Sometimes when I ride…I look out across the horizon and try to imagine what it would be like to ride my horse as far as I can see. I am always a Plains Indian warrior…in my mind.
I believe this kind of playful thinking keeps us young and open-minded. I was talking to a cardinal the other day. It seemed like he was flying from tree to tree, following me on my ride. His brilliant red was dazzling in the sun. I asked him, are you following me? He sang his little heart out and I told him, oh, you are just showing off.
What do you do to keep a playful spirit?